#GDA reader

[bananasplit133]

Yoo, just like everyone else, I have been STARVED for conquest fics, saw yours and cried of joy! I loved it so much!

I couldn't figure out if you do requests or not but if you do could I pretty please ask for one where mark somehow convinces conquest about the helping humanity and blah blah blah, cut to where conquest and mark are in the gda doing tests and something where the reader works as a hero analyst for Cecil or something and meets conquest during one of the strength tests and is struck by love at sight?

Sorry for my shitty explanations and stuff, it's a rough idea I've had for a long time and wouldn't mind any tweaks you make to it, no pressure of course! And keep up the good work!

Hi, anon! I loved this idea, thank you for requesting it. :D (I hope you'll enjoy this story just as much as the previous one!!! Sorry if i didnt write some things correctly, i might've misunderstood a few things)

Not Yet

Conquest x Reader

(Scene opens in the GDA testing facility, where Conquest and Mark are undergoing strength tests. The reader, a hero analyst working for Cecil, is observing.)

-----

The first time you saw him, you thought you were going to die.

Not because he attacked you—no, Conquest barely acknowledged your existence at first—but because the sheer weight of his presence alone was suffocating.

The GDA facility walls trembled with every impact of his blows against Invincible, the reinforced testing chambers barely containing the raw destruction. Conquest fought without hesitation, unrelenting, unstoppable. A force of nature disguised as an old man. He moved like war itself, every motion efficient, brutal, and unmerciful.

Yet you weren’t afraid. Not in the way you should have been.

Instead, you were… captivated.

It was absurd. You knew it was absurd. This was a being who had razed civilizations, whose hands were stained with so much blood that history itself bent beneath his conquests. He had no kindness, no remorse. Only purpose.

And yet, as he stood there, his breathing even, his single eye sweeping the facility with cold calculation, something within you stirred.

Perhaps it was the way he held himself—proud, ancient, and unyielding. Or maybe it was the way he regarded the world, as if everything in it was either an obstacle to be crushed or something too insignificant to bother with. But for the first time in your career, you found yourself unable to simply analyze the scene before you. You felt something dangerous—curiosity.

Your pen hovered over your clipboard, and before you even realized it, your voice cut through the post-battle silence.

“You’re holding back.”

Conquest’s head snapped toward you, his eye locking onto yours with the force of a hammer blow. The other agents stiffened, stepping back instinctively, but you held your ground, pulse thrumming against your throat.

“What did you say?” His voice was low, rough, like distant thunder.

“You’re holding back,” you repeated, firmer this time. “I’ve analyzed hundreds of fights, studied every high-tier threat that’s walked through these doors. That wasn’t you at full strength.”

A slow, amused huff left him. “Clever little thing, aren’t you?”

Your grip on the clipboard tightened. “It’s my job.”

“And yet you stand before me, speaking as if you are not prey addressing a predator.” He took a step forward, the air itself seeming to bow under his presence. “Tell me, what makes you so bold?”

You could feel every gaze in the room on you. Mark looked vaguely concerned, Cecil watched with veiled intrigue, and the guards gripped their weapons like they were ready to drag your corpse away at any second.

But you refused to waver.

“Because I know monsters,” you said plainly. “And you… You’re something worse.”

Something flickered in his eye. Interest. Just for a second.

Then, he chuckled. It was a deep, unsettling sound, like bones grinding together. “Perhaps you are not as insignificant as I thought.”

-----

Days passed. Then weeks.

You kept observing. Kept talking to him. At first, it was just another part of your job—gathering data, deciphering his behavior, understanding how a mind like his worked. But somewhere along the way, it became more.

Conquest did not entertain fools. He did not waste words on the weak. And yet, he answered your questions. Not all of them, not directly, but enough that it became clear: he found you amusing.

You learned the way his eye would narrow when you pressed too far, how his mouth would twitch when your words held a particular bite. You learned his philosophy, his unwavering belief in strength above all else. And he… learned you.

“You ask too many questions,” he mused one day, arms crossed as he loomed over you.

“You give too few answers.”

“I do not waste words on those who do not deserve them.”

“Then why answer me?”

Silence. Then, a smirk. “Because you are bold. I wonder how long it will take for that boldness to be crushed.”

“You seem very invested in watching me break.”

His eye gleamed, something dark curling at the edges of his smirk. “I enjoy watching things fall apart.”

You should have been terrified.

Instead, you felt your heart pound for an entirely different reason.

---

It wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t even admiration. It was fascination—the slow, creeping kind that burrowed into your bones and refused to leave.

Conquest did not change for you. He did not soften, did not falter in his beliefs. He remained a war-hardened conqueror, a destroyer of civilizations, a being who existed solely for battle.

But you had earned something rare.

His respect.

And maybe, just maybe, something deeper.

One day, as you walked through the observation deck, reviewing data, you felt him before you saw him. That impossible, looming presence, crackling with restrained power. You turned, and there he was—closer than usual, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“You linger in my thoughts more than you should,” he murmured, voice like distant thunder.

You swallowed. “Is that… a bad thing?”

He tilted his head, as if considering. Then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he rumbled:

“You are far too sweet for this world… I should rip your heart out and devour it before it ruins you.”

Your breath hitched. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, to run, to do something—but you didn’t. You stood your ground, staring up at him, heart hammering against your ribs.

A smirk curled at the edges of his lips. He straightened, eye gleaming with something wicked.

“Not yet,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Not yet.”

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, pulse wild, stomach twisting in ways you refused to acknowledge.

Because you knew.

This was far from over.

---------

(GSGHSNH4FSNNHUHWHAIIUJSHKCDKJC!!!!!!!!!!!!)

[beeandthescreen]

Cecil Stedman brainrot has been ON. He is so Lana-Del Rey. I need him, carnally. Zoom-ins cause I’m a giver.

Hihi, bald old man go brrrrr.

TikTok Post

Procreate!

[stars-eclipsing]

Its so romantic in Paris...

First of all I just wanna say i was an og sabrina fan before allll her espresso fame back in like 2018. All of u guys r fake. Anyway.

Note: I cant b a normal person and have a severe spiritual illness so this is part 1, aka the normal part. part 2 will be cunnilingus and all that amazing stuff. Ok? Ok.

Content: All sfw, angst, mentions of canon-typical violence

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You sip on rich, decadent hot chocolate as you watch the full moon cast beautiful light against a backdrop of endless black. The moonlight’s shine spills onto the oceans back elegantly, whilst the restless waters gently ripple and slosh against a rocky bed. You watch the scene intently, unable to tear your eyes off of nature’s beauty. 

Your first day in France was more than you could have ever hoped for. The sites were just as serene as the pictures, the cafes might have been a tad overpriced, but you’d still enjoyed your time conversing with the locals. Unfortunately, Mark had to leave halfway through. But it was fine. You could make do on your own. And you did. 

Work has been…tough recently. It’s been overwhelming to even leave the soothing comfort of your bed in the mornings, let alone carry on with your mundane days. Seeing your discomfort, Mark had suggested a vacation to ease your mind off of everyday’s stress. 

Reluctantly, you had agreed. 

And a good thing you did. You can’t even picture yourself at a desk anymore, slaving away all day. The thought itself makes you cringe.

Besides that, it’s all just been a bit much recently. More than someone like you can handle. A human, and not so terribly flawed, you’ve come to realize. At least you weren’t made to flaw… 

Behind you, there’s a soft click. The subtle sound of the hotel room’s door opening catches your attention, successfully disturbing your train of thought. 

You carefully set the mug on the white railing supported by well-sculpted pillars, enclosing the balcony (rather tastefully, in your opinion.) You turn around to see your lover, albeit tattered and stumbling, but still comfortingly beautiful. 

You can’t help the small smile that creeps on your face at the sight of him. “Mark,” You purr. 

He grins at the way you say his name so sweetly. He peels his mask off of his face, revealing your tired, but darling boyfriend. 

You meet him halfway into an embrace, and he holds you back. You instinctively kiss the side of his jaw, he chuckles. 

Cupping a side of his face, you look into his glimmering eyes, and you almost see the moon in them, “I thought you wouldn’t be back till tomorrow.” You tell him, though there's still a peaceful smile on your face. 

He closes his eyes as you gently stroke your thumb across his cheekbone, and leans into your touch to lightly kiss the inside of your palm. He shakes his head, “Mm-mm. No way. No how.” He opens his eyes to look at you, and you feel your heart melt. “I wanna be here with you.” He holds your hand in his own, warm and reassuring. 

Your shoulders sag in relief and you sigh, your face relaxing. Hero duties never sleep, but you were hoping it would– just for the night. Just for one, quiet night. 

You look at him with all the love in your heart. Seems the stars have granted your wish. 

You take the opportunity to lean in and kiss the plush skin of Mark’s lips, and he reciprocates eagerly, enjoying the gentle suckling on his tender bottom lip. Time leisurely curled around both of you as you kissed—slow, suspended, infinite.

Everything was perfect for a moment— too perfect, like a dream you didn’t want to wake up from. Perhaps the world could end now, like it’s done time and time before, and you would accept it, relish in it. After all, there is no other place you’d rather be…

Your heart stutters in your chest at the thought, the afterimage of collapse, destruction, and fear running through your mind. You try to forget it, tuck it away to the furthest, darkest corner of your mind, but you can’t. How could you, after everything that he’s— you’ve been put through. You flinch away from him like he was hot coal. 

You hadn’t even noticed your breathing had picked up, and you held your hand to your heart, trying to expel the fear from your body desperately. 

Mark calls out your name amidst your internal struggle, but it comes out more like a scream underwater. Your ribs ache, and your legs feel weak. 

This can’t happen. Not again. How many times will there be a miracle for you to ride the coattails of? Not enough. 

You can’t live like this. In fear, in agony. It’s too much. Why can’t anyone see that? Why can’t he see that? 

You're abruptly snapped out of your thoughts when you feel arms encircle your waist. Mark’s hand comes to your temple to lean your head back, placing a ghostly kiss on your cold skin. 

Your fingers grip the balcony’s railings, watching a silver eye staring back at you, unblinking against dark waters. The sparkling stars hang like broken glass against the deep expanse of sky, of space, of unknown. 

How did you get here? 

Your eyes search for anything, a sign, an omen, an angel. When you find nothing, you inhale shakily, your face scrunched up and determined. You needn’t proof to know that this time will be different. It has to be. 

You can’t bear the thought of more tragedy, the feeling of helplessness already etched far too deep into your skin. When will enough be enough? 

Turning just slightly to the side, you see the refined marble shine modestly. You keep your eyes on it. “Mark,” You utter his name gravely, quietly. 

He lets out a soft ‘hmm?’ and you look up at him, his eyes are already on yours. 

Your lips suddenly feel dry, and the air seems harsher, prickling at your sensitive skin. The waves below crash insistently, trying to grab your attention. You hardly even notice. 

In your restless dreams, you see that day. You see the mangled bodies at your feet, ruining your brand-new white shoes. Your shaky hands had lifted up into your line of view, showcasing… blood. It had dipped all the way to your elbow, into every crack and crevice on your hand. Your destiny had been entirely erased from your palm. 

In the shower, you had spent hours scrubbing yourself, your sobs scratching at your throat and echoing against the walls. The drain swirled with a whirlpool of red. Your white shoes outside, abandoned in the dumpster. Throughout it all, all you could think was, ‘But, why? Why Mark? Why me?’

Was there something so egregiously wrong you’d done you needed to atone for? If so, you wanted to repent. So badly, you did. All you need… is for the angels to tell you where you went wrong. And you promise— oh, you promise you won’t be swayed astray again. You couldn’t bear it anyway. 

You blink up at him hollowly. There was no life in your eyes, only the echo of where something used to be.

Your lips open into a small keyhole, trying to find the words to say. What to ask. 

You want his help. You need him to help you. 

Cold hands touch his face, but he doesn't flinch or shiver, merely matching the intensity of your gaze. 

He’s desperate to speak, but he can tell something is weighing on your mind, a question on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes trace his features, committing them to memory. You don’t want to forget… not so soon… because you could swear his hair was shorter just yesterday. 

You chew on your bottom lip, furrowing your brows as you look at him like you’re here. Here with him. “Is it you…Mark?” 

Sometimes, Mark feels like a broken mirror you had tried to piece together, but your feet keep bleeding from stepping on the shards, and your reflection doesn’t look quite the same anymore…

He looks at you lovingly, his fingers curling around your face like petals closing around morning dew. 

His smile is strained, but he tries at it anyway, “It’s me. I promise.”

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See the way I decorate my posts to seem aesthetically pleasing, Mark?

Anyway, im starting a series with cray cray reader and this is lowk beta and ill post the final version on ao3 but yolo (i'll fix this one afterwards!)

masterlist <3

[0bticeo]

mark grayson | boyfriend material

summary:

“boxers? as boyfriend material?”

you shrug, your movements stifled from your position between his legs, your cheek pressing up against his thigh. you shift a little, the pleats of the oversized tee you’ve stolen from him somehow having gotten stuck under his leg.

“what? you can’t tell me these-” a gesture towards his boxers, the ones you’re currently wearing “- aren’t the type of stuff a hypothetical girlfriend would steal.”

tags: mlw, aged up a little (early 20's), idiots to lovers, pwp, mark is adorable, pining, sexual tension, making out, fingering, edging, marking, biting, loss of virginity, use of the pull out method (wrap it before you tap it), mark is down bad and so is reader, no y/n, lowercase intended.

there’s a ringing in your ear. nagging, persistent, strident little thing. everything is too loud, too much. you’re overwhelmed, maybe. there’s a metallic taste on your tongue, and your shoulders ache, skin too warm under the tight leather of your catsuit. 

movement to your right. invincible, landing next to you, his hand steady on your shoulder. you lean back against him, panting, just the time for the taste of blood in your mouth to recede, for you to breathe-

a commotion.

your head tilts in its direction, your weary gaze hidden by your domino mask. journalists. it’s almost funny, how they swarm scenes of wreckage, flies drawn to a burning carcass. ruins stretch around you. the wounded are under the GDA’s care. you wonder what the fuck cecil was thinking, sending a team as uncoordinated as the new guardians of the globe on the field. you barely work for him, and neither does invincible, yet- 

here you are, stumbling down a pile of rubble, invincible’s grip steadying you.

“you okay?” he breathes. 

you know he can hear the erratic drum of your heartbeat. smell the blood dripping down your split lip.

“i’m fine. really.”

a flash. a journalist. tall, sharply dressed in a black tailored suit, with a cute pencil skirt, long red hair falling graciously on the long slope of her neck. striking green eyes. the embodiment of the office siren, coming straight at you to sing her pretty song and coax the filthiest gossip out of you.

you share a look with invincible and watch as his lips curl into an exasperated smile.

and so it begins. lights, camera, action!

“my age?”

you frown a little, titling your head to the side. besides you, mark - invincible - snickers. you can almost hear the words. like a cute little puppy. insulting. you’re more of a cat person.

you grin, two fingers tapping your chin. 

“that’s classified.”

the journalist in front of you - twenty something, almost made your jaw drop and did cause you to get slammed into a nearby wall by the lizard league, because wow - groans, green eyes rolling playfully.

“come on, shadow,” she grins, extending her mic a little more. she’s close enough for you to grip her arm and disarm- relax. civilian. “you can’t leave us hanging! we barely know you!”

that’s the point. the voice in your head sounds oddly like cecil. done with this shit, done with life, done with this conversation. but the GDA can and will be up your ass if you unleash a PR disaster, so you humour her.

“and i don’t even have your name, hun’.”

a little blush creeps up her cheeks. your smile widens a little, sharp in all ways it shouldn’t. besides you, invincible rolls his eyes, exasperatedly fond.

“meg.”

“ooh, pretty name. right, ask me anything.”

she seizes you up. you, clad in a catsuit so dark it looks like it’s absorbing the very daylight. you, hip cocked to the side, gloved fingers tapping at your hip bone. the way the lapels of your coat brush the bloodied ground, dripping red. invincible at your side, lazily leaning on your shoulder. you, swatting at him with a tired grin because blood on leather is a pain to clean up. 

meg pulls out her phone. you lean forward a little, intrigued, and catch a glimpse of what appears to be a list of questions.

“are you aware you have a fanbase?”

you exchange a glance with invincible. you may not see the soft melted brown of his eyes, but you know there’s a little spark of mischief beneath his mask. 

“oh?”

“yeah, you guys are as popular as teen team, if not more. how do you feel about them? any gossip you want to share?”

a pointed look. between rex’s… explosive relationship with eve and… well, his other relationship… relationships? with dupli-kate, you’d be stuck here for a while. you settle for a lesser evil. gotta throw a bone or two to the press. makes for nice trivia for fan books. 

“robot recently discovered that he has a fondness for junk food.”

“yep, he’s been pretty unsettled by it.”

meg stares at you with a pointed look. no juicy drama. both of you refuse to play the game. infuriating but understandable. she checks her watch, grimaces.

“shit, gotta wrap this up. ugh, if i had it my way, the two of you would answer the web’s most searched questions.” her gaze snaps back to you, green eyes rooting you in place. “the two of you work incredibly well together. what’s a usual mission like?”

it’s a relatively innocent question. you describe it, invincible occasionally chiming in, still leaning on your shoulder, hovering a little above the ground for comfort. (a flash. you staring up at mark after a mission as he pulls off his mask, feet a few inches off the ground. flying just… feels natural, y’know?)

usually, you get to the scene, assess the situation, neutralise the villain of the day and rescue those caught in the crossfire. get in, punch some people, get out. try not to have a heart attack when you watch invincible getting the shit beaten out of him by aliens/wizards/mafiosi/clones/dragons. cradle his face after a mission while scolding him because that was reckless, you idiot.

meg hums, perfectly manicured finger scrolling down on her screen, on the lookout for the next juicy question. her lips split in a slow grin.

“no… longer missions? undercover missions?”

oh, you should’ve seen this coming from a mile away. there’s a little curl to her lips, the sweet professional smile bordering on something more cutting. invincible laughs. you feel the vibration of it seep under your skin, percolating straight to your heart. you think you’re getting a little warmer, the summer sun high above you.

you think invincible’s blinding you with how wide he’s smiling.

“we’re superheroes. not spies.”

she hums, steps closer, fingers lightly trailing over the fabric of your coat.

“people have noticed this little number.”

“oh, yeah, it’s fairly new.”

meg looks up from her phone and smirks.

“we have a question from inviciboyfan25: is it boyfriend material?”

undeterred, you lean a little closer, until all the camera can see is the sharp edge of your smile.

“too heavy for that. the real deal? boxers and oversized tee. unparalleled.”

**

a smack at the back of your head. you let out a little yelp, your phone landing flat on your chin, cradling the sore spot with a pout.

“what was that for?”

mark glares at you, holding up his phone. on it, images of your encounter with that cute journalist three hours ago. he’s got a bandaid on his cheek, another one on his nose, both of them pink with hello kitty patterns.

he’s frowning. you gaze up to the small crease between his eyebrows and wonder how to smooth it away. you boop his nose instead, giggling when his frown deepens. he swats your hand. 

“boxers? as boyfriend material?”

you shrug, your movements stifled from your position between his legs, your cheek pressing up against his thigh. you shift a little, the pleats of the oversized tee you’ve stolen from him somehow having gotten stuck under his leg.

“what? you can’t tell me these-” a gesture towards his boxers, the ones you’re currently wearing “- aren’t the type of stuff a hypothetical girlfriend would steal.”

he groans, leaning back on his pillow. his fingers close on the sleeve of your (his) shirt, the one with seance dog proudly taking off, all heroic blues and reds. 

“but why?”

you grin up at him, scooting a little closer.

“because it’s comfy. and smells like you.”

you’re delighted when you watch the blush blossom on his cheeks, all soft pink awkwardness. he averts his gaze, turning his attention back to the video on his phone. you shrug and grab a nearby comic - seance dog, again, because markus sebastian grayson totally isn’t seance dog’s biggest fan. nope. doesn’t have every collectible on earth. 

you’ve juuust started to get invested in the plot, something about a meteor shower the loyal hero must stop to protect billions from dying, when mark groans again, his hand leaving the sleeve of your t-shirt to cover his eyes.

“dramatic much?”

a muffled groan. you cup your ear, the back of your hand brushing his thigh, the corded muscle of it tensing by a fraction under your skin. 

“sorry, what was that?”

“people are dogs. just… look at the comments!”

you lean back further into him, craning your neck.

“if you’re not planning on reading some out loud, at least lower your damn phone before i break my neck.”

he complies with a grumble, arms framing your head as he holds up his phone for you to see the comments. your eyes widen upon seeing the amount of views under the video.

“one million? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

you scroll down the comment section, the heat of mark seeping into you, your index near his thumb. progressively, your eyebrows raise. something like giddiness takes hold of your heart. people are dogs. you see it all, from people commenting on how sick that coat is, to complaints about property damage, to-

“no way. ‘i just know they be fucking nasty?!’ ”

“that’s one of the tamest ones. someone wrote a literal fanfiction in there.”

you look up at him, neck craned back. mark swears he’s never seen a sight as endearing as this one. you, snuggled up against him, drowning in his favourite shirt, so close he’s freely running his fingers over your shoulder, thumb occasionally creeping up your trapezius.

“you are not shaming fanfiction on my watch, grayson.”

“it’s about us!”

you poke his thigh. he twitches uncomfortably.

“like you haven’t read at least one.”

he flicks your forehead. you squeal, grinning wide.

“you can’t prove anything.”

a pointed look.

“fine. yes, i have. it’s… i don’t know. weird.”

you turn around, flipping on your belly, palms cradling your cheek as you look up at him. his breath hitches in his throat. you’re playing with the hem of his shirt absently, nails lightly scratching the navy fabric, the back of your fingers a light pressure on his adonis belt. you narrow your eyes, and he’s able to make out each individual lashes fanning your cheeks. 

there, in the quiet light of melting sunset, molten golds and pinks frame the edges of your face. he wants to cradle your cheek. he wants to trace the slope of your nose like you do his, down to your split lip, still swollen from that bastard king lizard punching you in the face. he wants-

“you do know invincible shadow is a thing, right?”

he blinks back to reality.

“uh? like a ship name?”

you nod, still fiddling with the hem of his shirt. despite the cool air breezing in past his open window, heat creeps up his neck. his fingers flex in the sheets, nails digging in the cotton threads - egyptian cotton, because dad knows a guy who owes him a favour or two and you don’t say no to omni-man anyway. 

“yeah. a ship name. super popular too. crazy, right?”

right. right. like you’re totally not molding your body to his. he can feel you, down to the bone, pressing against him, skin impossibly soft, lightly smelling of his own laundry detergent, something barely there because viltrumite senses are sharp. he feels the pounding of your heart in his throat, the way your lips part, tongue darting out to wet them. 

“yeah,” he mumbles, voice a little choked. “crazy.”

and fuck, where’s his bravado? fighting alongside you as invincible, when all you can see of each other are smiling, grinning, bloodied mouths, blood drip dripping down chins, is easy.

he thinks you might as well be a part of him, with how the two of you move around each other like you know what the other thinks. he has your six, you have his. his fists back you up at the slightest inconvenience, your shadows ripple whenever someone gets so much as an inch closer to him. 

it’s easy. when he snatches you by the waist after a mission, pressing you close enough to inhale the marrow of you without burying his nose in your hair - doesn’t need to. viltrumite senses are sharp, y’know.

when he zooms insides the drive thru and orders your favourite - that one greasy cheeseburger with french fries. when you remind him for the nth time that, first of all, there’s no way these qualify as fries. this is mcdonald's, for christ’s sake. second, fries are belgian, and- and that’s no reason to steal your fries, dammit!

it’s easy, being with you. when you’re sitting together, shoulder to shoulder on the edge of a skyscraper, your head lolling on his shoulder because you get sleepy once the adrenaline dies down. 

it’s easy. he thinks he’s going to die of a heart attack, with how fast it’s beating. here lies markus sebastian grayson, killed because his best friend is too beautiful for this world and sent him into damn cardiac arrest.

the day melts away. you don’t talk anymore, just bask in each other’s presence, his hand in your hair, your cheek a little beside his knee. his thumb brushes a fading bruise on your cheek bone and he winces in sympathy.

your fingertips run over his knuckles, finding them bruised and torn. you want to press your lips to them. you want to cradle him against you and never let go, because hero work may suck, and his civilian friends may not understand what he goes through every day, getting bloody and beaten and worn down down down, but you’re here.

“so they ship us, huh?” mark mumbles.

“mm.”

“crazy.”

you snort.

“i already said that, dummy.”

he flicks your forehead.

“m’not dumb.”

“are too!”

“that is not true.”

“please, you’re like. the embodiment of the jock stereotype. the kind jock, of course.”

he rolls his eyes, ruffling your hair, ignoring your soft cry of protest because it’s hair day, nooo don’t mess it up!

“i’ll have you know, i have more than decent grades.”

“they’ve been slipping ever since you started out as invincible, though.”

“ouch.”

you chuckle.

“you do have the physique though.”

“yeah, whateve- ow!”

he looks down at you incredulously. did you just… bite his thigh?

your teeth press against the corded muscle, bone over tender skin, a hint of warmth from your breath, and he thinks he’s dying. everything is too hot. too fucking hot, nevermind that it’s the middle of autumn and the air is getting colder and colder. 

shit. he sees the imprint of you in his skin. his hips shift uncomfortably. your tongue laps at the bitemark, soothingly. it’s almost tender, the softness of your tongue against him, scorchingly intimate.

your eyes meet his. time stops. he’s only aware of the metronome beat of his heart and your own - fuck, he can hear your heart, the way the blood rushes south. he lets out a shuddering sigh, and almost moans when he smells it. your arousal. 

something snaps. 

you’re kissing up his thigh, lips a lover’s breeze over his skin, the dips and curves of his muscles. you feel him gasp more than you hear it, when you put your mouth to him through his briefs, pressing soft little kisses to his bulge.

his fingers cup the back of your neck, weave through your hair, a gentle pressure, desperately trying to keep his strength under control. he could crush you like he did with komodo dragon, brain matter staining his fingers, drip drip dripping down to the ground. he doesn’t.

he doesn’t, yet you can feel him strain against the weight of his desire, tensing beneath you, breath shallow and wanting. you nip at his thigh again, a gentle press of tender teeth. he shivers, legs parting for you.

you nuzzle against him, feel the sheer heat of him against your cheek, like the warmth of a blazing sun. you want to melt into him until you don’t know where you start and where he ends.

“w-wait,” he groans. 

heat pools between your legs, and it’s hot, and - and his hand cups your face and he pulls you in until finally, he’s kissing you. it’s soft. a brush of his lips against yours, until you’re melting against him, arching into him because his hand - broad and calloused and heavy - is cupping your breast.

he pulls you close before you can react, lips brushing yours again and again until you’re not sure you can breathe without him. your nose brushes his. your eyes open and you meet his, dark pools of molten desire. 

“hey, you.”

“hey.”

he grins, something a little soft, a little shy. you inch closer and bite back a soft whimper when the motion has your core grinding down against his hardening cock. it strikes you, then. the thin edge you’re walking. he’s your friend. you can still back away. pull away, mumble something about your mama calling you - and it’s quite the walk, so you should go home-

fuck it.

you trace the shape of his abs, nails digging in his skin, and he arches into you, hips bucking up, desperate for friction. you’re dizzy. dizzy with him, with the way his hands encircle your hips, with the way his fingers dig into you, grinding you down on him with barely controlled strength.

“mark-” you gasp.

it’s not enough. doesn’t matter, there’s too much fabric between you, you’re not close enough, you need him in you, you need him to make himself at home between your ribs and burrow himself there, bloody and viscous and yours. 

he cups your cheek, thumb brushing against the plush of your lower lip, gaze impossibly soft.

“have you ever… ?”

you flush a little.

“n-no.”

he pecks your nose, your forehead, your eyelids.

“s’okay. lemme make you feel good…”

he pins you down, fingers slipping under your shirt until he pulls it off you, discards it in the corner of his room. he runs his fingers up your side, brushing against your bruised ribs, lips ghosting the contusion, knees bracketing your hips. you shiver, lips parting in a soft sigh of his name. he grins down at you, a little soft, a little feral, a white flash of too-sharp teeth.

“so, so pretty…” he mumbles, mouthing at your neck, teeth dragging up, up, up, until-

until you let out the softest whimper. he grins against your skin, nipping at your neck, his breath burning brands on that soft spot under your ear. his hands roam your body, trailing lower and lower, dipping past the waistband of your boxers.

“so wet,” he moans, and he sounds as wrecked as he’s making you feel.

his touch is tentative, you can feel the trembling of his fingers as they brush against you, lightly dipping between your folds, almost.. almost petting you. your hips grind against his hand, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist to get him to please, please more-

he tuts, pinning your arm to the side.

“no, no, no, lemme- just relax, i need- please, i want to make you feel good-”

you bring up your other arm willingly for him to keep pressed against his pillow, fingers flexing against your wrist in an unbreakable grip. your thighs part for him and you desperately try not to moan, because- fuck, because his dad may be home, you think, and what if you’re too loud, what if-

he curls his fingers - so pretty and slender and long - and you keen, back arching off the bed. he laughs at that, something breathless and teasing, claiming your lips for himself again and again and again, swallowing your moans. his tongue coaxes your lips open and he lets out a low growl as he finally gets to taste you. 

you think he made you come. you’re not sure. you’re panting. there’s a ringing in your ear. everything is too loud, too much. you’re overwhelmed, maybe. there’s a metallic taste on your tongue - he bit you - there’s a ringing in your ear, and everything is too much- 

mark worries his lip between his teeth, tugging down your boxers, fumbling a little, eager, so very eager to taste you, to make you feel as good as you do him.

you’re squirming in his grip, you realise, distantly, as you try to press closer to him, breasts brushing tantalizingly against the fabric of his shirt and-

“what’s wrong? 

“i need- please let me touch you, mark.”

he blinks, a little owlishly. 

“you- yeah, yeah okay-”

he lets go of your wrists and your hands slip under his shirt, nails raking down his chest, a thumb teasing his nipple and he groans, panting hot against your neck. his hips rut against yours, mindlessly, each thrusts having you biting your lips because the friction is just too much and- and he’s cupping your breasts, mouthing at them.

“ah!”

“too much?”

your breath catches in your throat. he’s looking up at you, chin resting on your chest, a lazy smirk on his lips, one long finger lazily trailing around your nipple, thumb flicking at it. and fuck, the way he looks at you, eyes dark and wanting, like you’re the most precious thing in the universe…

“fuck me.”

he raises an eyebrow.

“are you su- mn...”

you pull him to you, hands cupping his cheeks, kissing him like he’s the very air you breathe. the earth rotates around the sun. the sky appears blue to the human eye. you’re in love with mark grayson.

he knows, you think. with the way you whisper soft praises against his ear, with the way your fingers thread through the baby hairs on his nape. he knows.

he takes it slow. leans back on his heels, taking off his shirt. the moon is kind to him, silver light hiding in the dips of his collarbones, draping the sharpness of his chest, his abs, rippling down his arms, to the edge of the veins curling around his inner wrist.

you trace the shape of him, your touch reverent. he guides you, leading your hand from his chest, from the strong beat of his heart, to his adonis belt. you think you’re dying with how dizzy you feel, your thighs desperately pressed together for some friction.

your fingers wrap around the base of him and you let out a strangled sound. he’s big. he-

“fuck, you’re never gonna fit-”

he laughs at that.

“wanna bet?”

you groan.

“you’re horrible. you’re not the one getting nine inches of your crush-”

his eyes widen. you flush, mortified, eyes darting away, your grip on him faltering. gently, he tilts your head back towards him.

“yeah?”

you nod.

“yeah.”

he pecks your lips, gentle.

“me too.”

he eases you into it. takes you apart, bit by bit, until you’re dripping for him, babbling an incoherent mess of his name as his fingers spread you open, knuckle deep in you. when he lines himself up with you, leaking tip dragging against your entrance, he groans, low and deep and primal in a way that makes your core throb with need. 

a damn tease is what he is, with the way he barely slides in you, tip sliding against your cunt with wet, sloppy little sounds, lightly brushing against your clit in a way that has you biting back a desperate little whine. he pants.

“need- fuck, baby i need you, please lemme-”

“yeah, yeah mark, just-”

your words die on your tongue when he slowly pushes himself into you, holding your thighs apart. he bites his lip at the sight. you, spread wide under him, chest littered with love bites, lips parted as you whisper his name. you, nails digging in his shoulder blades until you draw blood, begging him to please, please get closer. he spreads you open, thumbs holding your folds apart, watching as your walls flutter against him, as you drip down his length, slick and filthy. 

“please, move,” you whisper. “i can take it, i need-”

“yeah? you need me?”

“mn.”

he smiles at that, a happy little lopsided smile, as he slowly starts thrusting into you, biting back a groan at how tight you are. 

“shit, baby-”

he pulls you up, hand cupping the back of your neck as he plunders your mouth, lightly suckling on your tongue. he’s everywhere, hands reaching for you, pulling you closer, and closer, until your chest is flush to him and he’s fucking himself into you with reckless abandon, hips snapping against yours. 

and what else can you do but take it? but wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer, nipping at his earlobe, the vein jutting out of his neck. but let your nails dig in his back and feel his muscles ripple with contained strength - and fuck, if the thought of him holding back for your sake doesn’t make you wetter. 

“m’gonna cum, mark-”

he grins at that, something like a broken chuckle escaping his kiss swollen lips. he tilts your head back, one hand on your hip as he drills himself in you, the other under your chin. 

“yeah? gonna cum for me, baby?”

you nod, heat burning across your cheeks, your chest, your core. he hums, hand pressing against your abdomen, where he can feel himself move in you. satisfaction flashes in his gaze, at having you this full of him. (at having you.)

“good girl.”

that does it for you. you come apart, face buried in the crook of his neck, choking on his name. there’s that ringing in your ear. you think you hear him chuckle. you do know that he slides out of you, leaving you empty, hollow, and you reach for him with a soft whine of protest. he leads your hand to his leaking cock, guiding you, hips stuttering towards you as you pump his length, until he cums, thick ropes of it landing on his stomach, on your hand.

everything is still. he reaches for the tissues on the nightstand and cleans the slick mess between your thigh, something like longing on his face. his eyes meet yours, and you feel heat creep up your neck, gaze darting away from his, stuck on the way he wipes away his cum, abs rippling under the crumpled tissues.

“what?” you mumble.

“next time, i’ll eat you out.”

you let out something like an undignified squeal, burying your face in your hands. he laughs. strokes your cheek, lowering you down on the mattress, cradling you against him. he pulls the covers over you, a hand on your hip, the other lacing with yours.

“feel okay?”

you smile, a little sleepy, nuzzling against him, pressing a soft kiss to the hello kitty bandaid on his nose.

“mn.” you let your finger trail down the slope of his nose. “love you.”

he gives you a closed-eye smile, and you think you’ve met your sun.

“love you too.”

[digitald0rk]

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 ★

[invoncible]

How about Mark variants with a Cecil daughter reader? Thought it would be an interesting idea

VARIANTS!MARK GRAYSON & stedman! reader ✧˚. cw. canon typical violence/themes (ex. cannibalism)

you were your father's right hand. the perfect blend of danger and kindness, you were a rare bridge between the younger members of the guardians and the older guys at the GDA, your father included.

when the war started, it was unlike anything the earth encountered before and beyond what any country was prepared for. the GDA struggled to corral one invincible—a dozen was just overkill. if humanity did not have their indomitable spirit, surely governments would just lay down and die.

but not your dad and certainly not 🗣️🦅🤠 AMERICA 🗣️🦅🏈🗽!

so you were sent out into the field. unfortunately, you were getting the sense that they knew you... and weren't so kind to you in their dimensions...

"lookie here," mohawk mark grinned fearsomely as he floated above you. "little stedman. man, it's been so long since i've seen your face."

"why's that?" you cocked your gun, standing before him without a tense bone in your body. if cecil taught you anything, it was how to fake it til you make it.

"killed ya," he sang teasingly. "personally broke you in half for being a fucking pest. you were almost as annoying as your old man."

"mm." you hummed, ignoring the feeling of dread in your stomach. your father might have taught you to stand strong, but there was just something about staring death in the face that made a person anxious.

there was a high chance you could die here. they've all done it once before, apparently. great.

the other marks gathered over the original mark's residence. you were supposed to gather debbie and oliver, but intel was faulty and they had fled on their own. good for them, bad for you.

omnimark paused, studying you as he drew closer. his red cape wafted in the wind as he descended. it would have been majestic if he wasn't, you know... a murderer.

"i know you well enough to read you like a book. i can tell you're scared." onmimark observed you, swirling around you inquisitively.

this was bullshit. they were just playing with their food at this point, hovering around you like vultures too impatient to wait for your death.

"i call dibs," sinister shoved past omnimark, his lips curling into a salivating grin. "you were most delicious back home."

startled by the notion, you blinked and snapped, "what?"

"yeah. i ate you."

"what the fuck—"

"can it." prison mark bulldozed through his peers, aggravated by the chatter. "i'm the only one who hasn't got to kill them yet."

"so?" mohawk mark scoffed and rolled his eyes.

you shook your head, shrugging off your nerves and stepped back. aiming your gun directly between his skull, you tried to dismiss the condescending expression that you were faced with.

mohawk mark chuckled and walked forward, bending at the waist and pressing his forehead right up against the barrel.

"shoot me," he said lowly, a big smirk on his face. the more he looked at you, the more he saw the shake of your eyes, the more excited he got. it's been a while since he's gotten so much thrill from a kill, and you were the most thrilling of all. "you know you can't hurt me."

you glared at him, phasing out of sight in an instant. mark's eyes widened in faint surprise when you vanished.

you teleported directly to their sides, gun aiming down the canal of their ears. praying for all the strength and accuracy in the world, you let eight precise bullets fly, blasting their way down through their suits and into their ears.

they all stumbled through the air at the impact, shaking their head like maracas to locate the bullet.

"dumb bunny," mohawk mark snarled, brushing the blood from his nose as he grimaced in discomfort. "told you, you can't hurt us."

"i see their stupidity transcends dimensions," viltrumite mark commented plainly. he shook his head to one side in an attempt to dislodge the bullet like he was getting pool water out of his ear.

you swallowed a shaky breath and set your stance, whipping out the control for the implants. you hoped they were able to worm their way deep inside like you programmed them to.

"those aren't regular bullets, dickheads." you snapped, bringing your thumb down on the red button.

the piercing shrill of the underwater kaiju that disarmed the original mark rang through the air, pulsing into their skulls painfully. their flight stuttered before dropping completely, collapsing to the ground like flies. they clawed at their heads uselessly as the grating shriek made them go stupid.

you huffed a laugh when they all keeled over, in disbelief you managed to pull it off. then you just laughed for the hell of it. who's invincible now?

you could talk shit like your father; you just hoped his tendency to get his balls rocked right after he ran his mouth didn't pass on to you.

"big mistake leaving me breathing," you activated the dead man's switch and brought your foot down on the controller, smashing it to little pieces. "you had your chance to kill me. now it's my turn."

© invoncible

[9iavolo]

❝I WANNA FUCK YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL❞

synopsis: you're supposed to be healing. mark's supposed to behave. but neither of you are very good at following the rules—and once he starts, he can't stop. warnings: smut, rough/dominant mark, mark being a perv, sub!reader, fem!reader, dirty talk, breeding kink vibes, possessive behavior, praise, overstimulation, soft obsession, light pain kink (due to injuries), oral (fem receiving), oral-to-pentration transition, unprotected sex, creampie, getting caught by cecil wc: 6k

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The room smells like antiseptic and blood.

And you—still beneath it all—you.

Your sweat. Your skin. Your wrecked body calling to him like a fucking siren.

Mark shouldn't be hard right now.

You're hurt. You're bleeding. You almost died. And still, all he can think about is the way your legs are spread—like a dare.

Like a death sentence.

She's hurt. She's half-naked. She almost died. And I'm standing here like I'm about to fuck her in a hospital bed—because I am.

You're sprawled across the GDA medbed—bruised, bandaged, breathtaking. The remnants of your tank top barely cling to you, the shredded fabric sliding over your ribs. The gauze across your side is already bleeding through. One thigh's propped up slightly, bruises painted like ink across soft flesh.

And that stupid fucking blanket is hanging off your hip, one tug away from falling.

You look like sin.

Mark's hands are curled into fists. He tries not to breathe you in again—tries to look away from your thighs, from the blood, the curve of your waist—but his eye betray him.

Everything about you pulls him in. It always has.

Dangerous? No. You're catastrophic.

"You keep staring," you murmur, dry.

Mark's fingers twitch at his sides, his jaw clenched.

Of course I'm staring. Look at you. Fucking look at you. All wrecked and smug like you know what you're doing to me.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"No, you're not."

You don't even open your eyes. Just let your head tip back like you can sense how close he is to breaking.

"You could've died," he says.

"You say that every time."

"You keep almost dying."

"And yet," you breathe, finally cracking one eye open, "here I am. Breathing. Chest rising. Skin flushed. Guts still inside."

A smirk curls your lips. "Guess you'll have to deal with that, won't you?"

And that's it.

That's the moment Mark snaps, hitting him all at once—the fear of losing you, the aching need, the way you're taunting him, bleeding and beautiful.

And he breaks.

"Fuck it."

He's on you in seconds.

Not rough. Not angry.

Just urgent.

Desperate.

I'm not even pretending anymore. I need her. I need to taste her. I need to mark every fucking inch of her until she remembers she's mine.

His mouth crashes onto yours, fingers cradling your face, threading into your hair like he's afraid you'll vanish beneath him. You kiss him back without hesitation—tongue sliding against his, slow and warm and unbothered.

She tastes like heat. Salt. Blood. Fuck, she tastes alive.

"You—fuck, you don't know what you do to me," Mark groans, pulling back just enough to breathe.

His hand slides down your side, reverent.

You flinch slightly when he grazes the bandage on your ribs.

He freezes instantly.

"Not the left side," you murmur.

"Okay."

So he kisses the right instead.

Then just below it.

Then lower.

And lower.

Still, you don't stop him. Still watching him with half-lidded eyes like you're curious what he'll do if you just let go.

She's letting me. She's letting me see her like this. Letting me touch. Letting me taste. I'd drop to my knees for her every fucking time if she just asked.

Mark tugs the blanket down.

You're wearing black panties—thin, snug, and soaked.

And holy shit.

He nearly groans out loud just from the sight.

Fuck. Fuck. I can see the shape of her cunt through these. She's wet. She's wet for me.

"Do you—" his voice cracks. "Do you want this?"

You prop yourself up on one elbow. "What do you think?"

"I need to hear you say it."

You look him dead in the eye.

"I want your mouth between my legs."

Mark chokes on the air, feeling his cock throbbing.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Don't come in your pants, don't fucking come just from that—

He kisses your knee.

Then the curve of your thigh.

His mouth lingers on every bruise like he's trying to erase them with his tongue, every slow press of his lips a prayer to whatever god let you survive.

Finally, finally, he kisses you right over your panties.

"You smell so fucking good," he breathes, inhaling shamelessly. "Been thinking about this for weeks."

You huff a soft laugh. "Knew you were a pervert."

"Yeah," he groans, dragging his nose along the crease of your thigh. "I am. And I'm so gone for you. I'd lick this pussy through cotton, denim, Kevlar. Doesn't matter. I want it like I want air."

I'm a fucking mess. I'd sniff this pussy in public. I'd lap it up in front of a goddamn mirror just to watch myself beg.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and drags them down slow.

And when you're bare?

He dives in.

Tongue flattening against your slit. Then a slow, wet stripe all the way up to your clit. He groans—low, filthy, addicted.

God, she's soaked. Fuck, fuck, I knew it—I knew she'd taste good.

She's warm. Sweet. Salty. Fucking perfect. Mine. This pussy's fucking mine. I could die with my face buried here. I want it on my face, on my chin, want her dripping down my neck. Want to fuck her and lick it off my own cock.

You gasp, hips twitching.

Mark grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you.

"Don't move," he mutters against you. "Let me make you come. Just this once. Let me be the only one who ever gets to see you fall apart."

Then he sucks your clit into his mouth and moans like he's about to lose it.

Lapping. Sucking. Breathing against your folds.

I'm gonna make her scream. Gonna make her drip. Gonna make her beg.

You're panting now. Your fingers curl into his hair.

"Don't stop," you gasp.

"Say my name," he groans into you, tongue circling. "Say you want me."

"Mark—fuck—keep going—"

And that's all he needs.

He starts eating you like a man possessed.

Tongue dragging. Mouth sucking. Breath heavy through his nose as he fucks you with his mouth like it's the last thing he'll ever do, loving the way your hips jerk.

She's shaking. She's coming. She's falling apart just for me. God, I need this. I need her. I need her to come again. Again. Again—

You break.

Your orgasm hits hard, gasping, hips bucking off the bed—and he doesn't stop. He moans into your cunt, nose buried in your folds, licking you through it, chin soaked, tongue fucking you through the aftershocks.

I'm gonna make her come again. I don't care if she's twitching. I want her ruined. I want to fuck her full and then clean it all up with my tongue.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are glistening.

He swipes a thumb across his mouth and licks it clean, pupils blown wide.

"You gonna let me fuck you now?" he pants, voice raw. "Or do I have to make you come again first?"

You didn't say anything. Just watching him through lazy lashes, breathing heavily.

You looked like you knew.

Knew he's seconds from ruining every promise he made to take it slow. Knew how hard he's been since the moment he walked in. Knew you had him.

And let him see everything he needs in your eyes.

She's mine. Mine. And I'm about to fuck her like I'll never get the chance.

He runs a hand through his hair, ragged.

"I shouldn't."

You arched a brow. "But?"

He groans. "But I will."

Mark stands between your legs, breath shaking, hands trembling at your hips.

She wants me. She wants me now. After everything—after almost dying—she's giving this to me. Letting me have her. Letting me fuck her.

He shoves his pants down to mid-thigh, cock springing out and slapping against his abdomen—thick, flushed, and leaking already.

You glance at it, brows lifting. "You've been hard this whole time?"

He grits his teeth. "From just looking at you."

You hum. "Bigger than I expected."

Mark groans, fisting his cock once. Beads of pearl leak at the tip and smears down his shaft as he strokes. Your eyes linger on it, almost curious.

"You're evil."

You grin. "You love it."

He does.

He fucking does.

I love that she teases me. I love that she ruins me. I love that I'm this hard and she hasn't even touched me yet.

Mark slides two fingers between your folds.

You're soaked.

Dripping from the orgasm he just gave you. Warm, wet, swollen.

He nearly whimpers.

"God, you're soaked."

"You made me come," you say, voice lazy. "What did you expect?"

Mark presses the head of his cock to your entrance. His breath catches.

"You sure?"

are you sure?

You shoot him a look. "If you don't fuck me right now, I will break your nose."

That's all it takes.

He slides into you slowly—but he's so thick, so long, the stretch pulls a sound from your throat that's a half-growl, half-moan as your hips twitch.

Mark groans deep in his chest.

Holy fuck. She's tight. She's squeezing me like she doesn't wanna let go. Warm. Hot. Velvet. Fucking heaven.

You're panting, nails digging into his forearm.

"You're too big."

He pauses, buried halfway.

"I can stop—"

"Don't you dare."

He growls low in his throat and bottoms out, cock buried to the hilt.

Fuck. Fuck. She's wrapped around me. All of me. I could die like this. I could stay like this forever.

His forehead drops to yours, breathing hard, trying not to come on the spot.

"You feel—Jesus—you feel perfect."

You clenched around him on purpose, smirking.

"Mark?"

He swallows.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me like you mean it."

And he does.

He snaps his hips forward, and you shout.

Hard, deep, fast.

No warm-up. No mercy. Just raw, hungry, desperate thrusts that shake the bed and jolt your body with every slam.

Your injured body rocks with each stroke, but you didn't stop him. You gripped him tighter. You moan louder. You meet him thrust for thrust.

You take him like you were made for it.

"You're gonna break me," you gasp.

He growls. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You're the pervert—"

"You're the one taking me so fucking well—like your pussy belongs to me."

He pulls out halfway, slams back in, again and again, wet slaps echoing in the sterile room, your slick coating his cock.

He grips your thigh, pushes your knee up, angles deeper—and hits your spot.

Your back arches with a strangled cry.

"Mark—fuck—there, right there—!"

He doesn't stop.

He drives into it over and over, mercilessly, grinding his cock deep inside your soaked, pulsing cunt until your eyes roll back.

"Right there?" he pants, drilling into your spot again. "You want me to keep hitting it? Wanna come again on my cock?"

You moan. "Yes—yes—yes—"

"Say you want it," he pants.

"I want it—"

"Louder."

"I want your cock, Mark—I want you to ruin me—"

That's it.

He loses it.

She wants to be ruined? Then I'll fucking ruin her.

Mark grabs the headboard with one hand, the back of your thigh with the other, holding you down while he pounds into you, cock pistoning like he's trying to claim you from the inside. Wet slaps echo in the sterile room, your slick coating his cock as he pounds you ruthlessly.

Your cries get louder. Needier.

He watches your tits bounce with every thrust, watches your face twist in pleasure.

"Come for me," he growls. "Come all over this cock."

You do.

You scream.

You come so hard your thighs seize and your cunt clamps tight, pulsing around him in waves that make Mark sees stars.

And even then, he doesn't stop.

He keeps going.

Thrusting through it.

Grinding into your g-spot like he's chasing another orgasm before you can breathe.

She's not done. I'm not done. I'm gonna fill her. Gonna come inside her. Gonna make her leak for days.

He leans down, panting into your mouth.

"Can I—fuck—can I come inside?"

"Do it," you gasp.

"You're not on anything."

"I said do it, Mark—"

That's all it takes.

He slams in deep—one last time—and lets go.

He spills into you in thick, hot pulses, filling you to the brim, groaning against your neck, body shaking from the force of it.

You can feel it—his cum flooding your cunt, thick and hot, dripping already.

He doesn't pull out.

Not yet.

He just lays there, panting over you, cock twitching inside your drenched, used hole, both of you ruined.

You brush a hand through his sweaty hair, breath catching.

"Still a pervert," you murmur.

Mark grins against your skin.

"Only for you."

And you both know it's not over.

Because he's still hard. Still inside you.

Still hard.

Still twitching.

You're trembling beneath him. Bruised, wet, leaking, Your chest rises and falls with ragged gasps, skin flushed, sweat clinging to every dip of your body.

I just came and I'm still hard. Still deep. Still obsessed.

He doesn't move.

Doesn't pull out.

His cock throbs inside your slick, cum-stuffed cunt, and he feels your walls flutter around him again—like your body can't tell if it's sated or starving.

"Mark..." you breathe, voice raw "You're still—"

"Hard?" he murmurs against your neck, dragging his nose along your collarbone. "Yeah."

"You just came—"

"I know." He grinds his hips, slow, thick, deep. You jolt beneath him, overstimulated. Your moan is hoarse.

"And you're still dripping."

He can feel it. His cum, hot and thick, slid down your thighs, coating your pussy, soaking the ruined medbed beneath you.

He growls low in his throat.

"I filled you up," he murmurs. "But it's not enough."

You twitch—your leg jerks involuntarily when his cock shifts inside you again. Your body is too sensitive, your pussy so raw and full and wet.

Yet, you laugh, broken and breathless. "That's the pervert talking again."

He pulls out halfway—only to slam back in, thick and wet and deep.

"That pervert wants to watch it all leak out just so he can fuck it back in."

He fucks it back in.

Slow.

Heavy.

Deliberate.

You gasp, head tipping back.

Mark groans. "That's it. Take it. Take every drop like the good girl you are."

His hand trails down to your thigh, spreading you wider. His other slides under your back, lifting you just slightly, angling you so he can go deeper.

You whimper.

Fucking perfect. She's already wrecked, and I'm still hard. Still hungry. Still not done.

Your body twitches with every lazy thrust. You try to close your legs—but he grips your knees and pins them apart, burying himself deep again.

"I said lie back," he growls. "Be good. And let me finish the job."

"Mark—"

He cuts you off with a kiss—sloppy, wet, claiming.

You try to breathe, but he doesn't give you the space. His tongue slides past your lips, tasting you, owning you, devouring you.

And then—without warning—he flips you.

I want to see her face while I fuck her stupid. Want to watch her drool and sob and smile while I stuff her full again.

You gasp as he drags your hips back, hands firm, strong, urgent. He pulls you to your knees, forces your ass up, presses your chest to the sheets.

Look at her. Fucked dumb. Covered in bruises and cum and still so fucking tight.

You barely register the position shift before his cock slams back in.

You scream.

"F-Fuck—Mark—there—!"

He pounds into you from behind, skin slapping skin, each thrust harder than the last. Your ass ripples with every impact. Your arms tremble. The bed jerks beneath you.

Mark watches it all.

Your back arched. Your mouth open. Your thighs shaking.

She's mine. Mine. No one else gets to see her like this.

His hand wraps in your hair, yanks your head back so he can whisper into your ear:

"You wanted round two, baby? Then fucking take it."

He slams in again—wet, filthy, relentless. Your pussy's so soaked now that every thrust squelches, obscene and loud.

He watches your juices drip from our slit to the sheets. Watches his cock disappear into your cunt again and again.

"You're—nnngh—you're disgusting."

"You're soaked."

"I just came."

"You're gonna come again."

He fucks you faster, sloppier. His cum is squelching out around his cock now, coating your thighs, dripping off your ass, pooling under you.

It's filthy.

You let him rail you into the mattress like it's what your body was made for.

"You like this?" he groans. "You like being fucked so full you can't hold it?"

You nod desperately. "Yes—yes—Mark—please—"

He groans, hips jerking harder.

She's begging again. Already. And I'm just getting started.

His hand grips your jaw and pulls your face back to him.

"Say it again."

"Please—Mark—please don't stop—"

He fucks into you hard—one perfect, brutal thrust.

Your legs give out.

And then you come.

Again.

A sob rips from your throat as your pussy clenches, your body locking up around him, slick gushing down your thighs.

That's what does it.

Mark gives you everything again.

He slams deep—hips flush—cock pulsing as he comes inside you again, moaning against your neck, spilling himself into your already ruined cunt.

More. Hotter. Thicker.

Your body jerks with the force of it, and he keeps grinding in, like he's trying to push it in deeper.

You both collapse.

His chest on your back. His arms around your waist. His cock still inside you.

Neither of you speak.

There's only the sound of your breaths, your pulse, your soaked skin sticking to his.

His mouth presses to your shoulder, reverent.

"I'll do it again," he whispers.

You don't answer.

But your cunt clenches around him.

And Mark grins.

Eventually, he pulls out. You wince. His cum trickles down the inside of your thigh. Thick and white. Coating your folds. Sliding over your ass.

Holy fuck. That's mine. I did that. I filled her up and she's still leaking.

Mark swears softly under his breath and grabs the nearest towel, but his eyes are locked to your pussy. The stretch. The swollen, wet curve. The pink glistening between your thighs.

I want to push it back in. I want to use my fingers. My tongue. My cock again. I don't care how tired I am. I need to ruin her again.

"Sorry—here, I've got you. Just let me—fuck, you're dripping."

He presses the cloth between your legs gently, kissing your knee.

"Still okay?" he whispers, voice hoarse.

You hum. "Better than okay."

She's going to kill me. Fuck me to death and I'll die smiling.

He wipes you slowly, carefully, holding your legs open, watching his mess drip out of you.

He groans. "I don't wanna waste any of it."

You scoff. "Don't get ideas."

"I already have them," he grins, tossing the towel and crawling back up beside you. "Let me hold you."

"You're heavy."

"I'm warm."

"...Fine."

You let him spoon you from behind, his hand gently palming your bruised waist, thumb grazing your stomach.

"You're mine," he murmurs, pressing his nose into your hair. "No one gets to see you like that but me."

"Jealous?"

"Territorial."

"...Pervert."

"Yours," he murmurs. "Until you beg me to stop. And then I'll stop being a pervert. But now?"

He rolled his hips, letting you feel his already hardened cock grind against your lower back.

Slow.

Heavy.

"i'm not done," he growls.

"Mark..." you breathed, fingers curling against his shoulder. "You came—twice."

"So?" His voice is low. Wrecked. Dangerous. "You're still wet."

His hips grind against yours, cock dragging against your oversensitive walls, slow and thick. You twitch—gasping.

"I'm not done tasting you," he murmurs against your throat. "Not until you forget your own fucking name."

"Mark—" your voice cracks, almost a plea.

He growls.

"Say it again."

You bit your lip and shook your head.

Wrong move.

He grabs your hips, pulls out halfway, and slams back in hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

"Say it."

"Fuck—Mark!"

"There she is."

He fucks you slow—agonizingly slow. Each thrust drags slick down your thighs, your overstimulated cunt gripping him so tight he hisses through his teeth.

"You gonna tell me to stop?" he rasps. "Or you want me to keep going?"

"You're obsessed," you pant, nails dragging down his back.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

"I'm in love."

You freeze.

Just a second.

That's all he needs—because the next thrust steals your breath.

Harder now. More focused.

He's not fucking you just to fuck you. He's making a point.

That you're his.

That your body remembers him.

That no matter how hard you fight it—you melt for him.

Every. Damn. Time.

"You think I can stop now?" he groans, kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your throat. "After feeling you come around me? After watching your eyes roll back? After hearing you beg?"

His cock slams deep—your moan cuts off.

"You're fucking soaked, baby."

His fingers find your clit again—rubbing it in tight, filthy circles.

You jerk, twitching, trying to squirm away.

He holds you still.

"Nope," he growls. "You don't get to run."

"Mark—I—I can't—"

"Yes, you can." His voice softens for just a moment. "You can take it. You always take it."

You whimper—just a little.

That makes him snap.

He flips you—hands on your waist, dragging your hips back, forcing you onto your knees on the medbed. You barely register the change in position before he's inside again, deeper now, angled just right to hit that sweet, devastating spot.

You cry out—loud.

"F-Fuck—there—!"

He pounds into you from behind, hands gripping your ass so tight it stings.

"Yeah?" he pants. "That's it? That's the spot?"

Your response is a broken sob of pleasure.

He leans over you, his chest brushing against your back as he whispers into your ear:

"Still so tight," he pants. "Still clenching. God—like your pussy knows me now."

His balls slap against your soaked cunt with every thrust. Your legs shake. Your arms tremble.

Your body is wrecked. Ruined. Perfectly fucked.

But you don't beg him to stop.

You take it.

You want it.

"Such a good girl," he pants. "Letting me use you like this. Letting me fill you up again and again."

"Please—Mark—please—"

He doesn't stop.

He growls your name like it's a prayer, a curse, a vow.

And then he grabs your hips—thrusts deep—and stays there.

You gasp.

He's not moving.

"W-Why—"

"I want you to feel every drop when I come inside you again."

"F-Fuck—"

Your cunt clenches around him, trembling, overstimulated, raw and needy.

And then you break.

Your fourth orgasm rips through you like a storm—your entire body locking, hips jerking, breath stuttering into a silent scream.

That does it.

Mark slams deep and stays, cock twitching as he empties inside you a third time—hot, thick spurts that flood your already ruined pussy.

He slumps forward, chest to your back, arms wrapping around your stomach, anchoring you.

Neither of you spoke.

Not for a long, long time.

You're shaking. You're leaking. You're full.

He doesn't pull out.

Not yet.

He kisses your neck. Your shoulder. The back of your ear.

And then—softly, like it's a secret—

"I'll do it again."

You smirk, dazed.

"...Round four?"

Mark grins against your skin.

"Oh, baby."

"We're just getting started."

The room still reeks of sex.

Of sweat, blood, and something filthy—something primal. The medbed's a mess. Your thighs are coated. Your body's trembling. And Mark?

Still inside you.

Still hard.

Still buried to the hilt.

You're slumped against the mattress, one cheek pressed to the pillow, your ass tilted up, both legs shaking from being fucked into another dimension. Your cunt is raw. leaking. Full.

Mark leans over you, lips brushing your spine. His cock twitches again inside your overstimulated pussy.

"...I think I blacked out," you rasp, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Mark lets out a short, ruined laugh, dazed. "Yeah. You clamped down so hard I—"

The door opens.

Both your heads jerk up.

"Mark, I need an update on—"

Cecil.

Fucking.

Stedman.

Stnading in the doorway.

Holding a folder.

Pausing.

Looking right at you.

Your entire half-naked body spread out across the GDA medbed, bruised, flushed and dripping. Hickeys across your neck. Bite marks on your shoulder. Cum leaking out of your cunt.

Mark is behind you. Also half-naked. Also covered in sweat. Cock still buried inside you.

Still hard.

Still twitching.

No one moves.

No one says a word.

Mark slowly lifts his head, mortified.

"...Sir."

Cecil doesn't even flinch.

He stares.

Long and hard.

Then exhales through his nose like he's been through Vietnam and this somehow ranks worse.

You groan, dropping your face back into the pillow. "For fuck's sake—"

"This isn't what it looks like." Mark blurts.

Cecil raises a single eyebrow. "Son. It exactly looks like what it looks like."

Cecil slowly turns to you, deadpan.

"You do realize you're on government surveillance, right?"

You blink.

"What."

He gestures at the corner. "Thermal cameras. Body monitors. Vital sensors. Whole nine yards. And unless I'm mistaken, we just clocked four orgasms, three ejaculations, one dislocated bed railing, and a sudden spike in your heartbeat that almost triggered a defibrillator call."

Mark makes a small dying noise.

You just glare.

"I said don't stop. I didn't say invite your boss."

Cecil pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I was coming to tell you she's cleared for fieldwork in seventy-two hours," he mutters, already turning back toward the door. "Not that you took it as an invitation to field test her flexibility."

"I'm still injured," you mumble into the pillow, hiding your face.

"Clearly not enough to stop you from reverse cowgirl while bleeding internally."

Mark groans.

Cecil turns at the doorway. "Also? You're on cleaning duty. Bed's broken."

He pauses.

"And for the record?" He looks at Mark with one absolutely withering glance. "If you're gonna rail someone so hard they lose brain function, maybe next time... lock the damn door, kid."

He walks out.

Slams it shut.

Silence.

Mark stares at the wall.

"...I'm gonna die," he whispers into your back.

You wheeze.

"You better not," you mutter. "You still owe me round four."

Mark groans again. Deeper. Filthier.

"Oh my god."

You reach back, slap his thigh. "Round four, Grayson."

He grabs your hips.

And thrusts.

Hard.

You scream into the pillow, laughing and moaning all at once.

Your body is limp. Breathless. Shaking.

But Mark—Mark is still hard inside you.

Still thick. Still pulsing. Still possessive.

The aftermath of round three clings to your skin like oil. His cum slicks your thighs, your stomach, the inside of your cunt—wet, warm, and never-ending. And he's not stopping. Not even close.

"You're insane," you gasp, voice hoarse, barely there.

Mark's lips are pressed to your spine, panting against your sweat-slicked skin. His cock throbs deep inside you—so deep it feels like you'll never be empty again.

He doesn't answer.

Just groans.

Long.

Low.

Starved.

I could stay inside her forever. Just fuck her slow until she begs me to stop—then keep going anyway.

"...Still warm," he rasps, hips rocking slow. "Still tight."

God, I can feel her twitching around me. Like her body wants me again. Like her pussy knows it belongs to me.

His fingers dig into your hips, bruising. His forehead rests between your shoulder blades. You can feel the tremble in his thighs, the possessive heat pulsing off of him like a second skin.

And then—

Then he moves again.

Slow. Sinful.

Dragging himself out of your swollen cunt inch by inch, just to slide back in with a filthy, squelching sound that makes you gasp intot he pillow.

"Mark—" Your voice cracks. "Please—"

"Still begging?" he groans. "Even after I fucked you full?"

Look at her. Limp. Leaking. And she still wants more. Fuck, I'll give her more. I'll break her open and stuff her full again until she forgets her name.

Your fingers curl against the sheets. Your whole body twitches.

"You wanted to be ruined," he growls. "So let me finish the job."

And then he starts fucking you again.

Hard.

Sloppy.

Obsessed.

Every thrust punches air from your lungs. Your tits bounce. Your bruised rubs ache. But all you can feel—all you want—is more. More of him. More of this. More of the way he fucks you like he owns you.

"You're still dripping," he snarls. "Fucking hell—look at you. Look at how much you needed this."

My cum's still leaking out of her and I can see it. Thick. White. Mine. Coating her thighs like a brand.

His cum leaks around the base of his cock with every thrust. You're soaked. Ruined. Splattered with it.

"You gonna come again?" he pants against your ear. "Gonna come with my cock still inside you? With my cum still inside you?"

You choke on a moan.

"F-Fuck—Mark—"

He grans your hips and slams into you, voice breaking.

"Say my name. Say it while I'm still fucking you like this."

Her voice—saying my name like that—fuck, I'd come just from that. I want to record it. Play it in my fucking ear every night while I jerk off.

"Mark—Mark—Mark—!"

"You're fucking mine."

This is mine. All of it. Her throat, her moans, her cunt milking me like she never wants to let go.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulls you up until your back arches against his chest, his cock still buried inside you from behind.

"You forget your own name yet?" he growls against your throat.

You shudder.

"Because I'm gonna make sure you do."

Then he starts pounding up into you, your ass bouncing off his thighs, your cunt a soaked mess around him. Every thrust hits that sweet, broken spot that makes your knees go weak.

His voice is ragged now—like he's losing it.

"I'll fuck you until you can't think straight. Until you forget what it feels like to not have me inside you."

You're babbling. Barely coherent. Tears sting the corner of your eyes—not from pain, but from overstimulation. From how good it is. How full you are. How utterly destroyed he's making you.

Mark bites down on your shoulder, groaning like an animal.

"You wanted round four, baby? You want everything?"

"Y-Yes—"

"Then take it."

He throws you down again. Flips you on your back. Crawls over you, cock still inside.

He stares down.

You're flushed. Wet. Shaking.

And smiling.

"You're such a fucking pervert," you whisper.

Mark's pupils are blown black. His body is tight, trembling above you. He lowers himself, cups your face.

And then—

His voice drops.

"I love you."

You freeze.

Just a second.

Then—

"I know," you breathe.

And then he kisses you.

Hard.

Deep.

Like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

Your breath's caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. Mark's lips are still on yours—feverish, clumsy, needy. His cock is still inside you. Throbbing. Dragging against your too-sensitive walls like he's trying to write his name on you.

You're so full.

His cum's already leaking out from round three, but he hasn't pulled out once. Just stayed there. Pressed deep. Obsessesd.

"I meant it," he murmurs into your mouth. "I love you."

You breathe in shakily, eyes fluttering. Your legs twitch around his hips.

"Mark—"

"Say it back."

You pause.

Then—soft, broken— "I love you."

Something breaks in him.

Fuck, I'd give her everything. My name. My life. My goddamn soul. Just to hear her say that again with my cock still inside her.

He growls, low and guttural. And then he moves again.

Slower now—but harder. Meaner. His cock drags out soaked and then slams back in until your thighs shake around him. Until your breath comes out in little gasps.

I should stop—but I can't. I don't want to. I want to make her come until she forgets how to walk.

He grabs your wrists. Pins them above your head.

"You love me?" he grits, thrusting again. "You love being fucked like this?"

You moan and nod like you’re barely holding together. Your whole body’s trembling, soaked, messy.

"Say it again,” he pants, desperate, like he needs to hear you say it to survive.

You gasp, almost crying, "I love you—I f-fucking love you—!"

He lets go of one wrist. Brings his thumb down to rub tight, filthy circles against your clit while his cock pounds up into you like a goddamn sledgehammer.

"I'm gonna make you come again," he pants. "I want to feel you squeeze me. Want to feel this perfect pussy milk every drop I give you."

You whine.

"Mark—"

"Yeah? Right there? You like that? You gonna come for me again?"

You're nodding—eyes wide, lips open, breath catching.

"Do it," he groans. "Fucking do it."

You break.

Your body locks up. Your thighs squeeze around his waist, your back arches hard—and then you shatter.

Slick floods around his cock. You're convulsing—again—wrung out, tears in your eyes, mouth open but no sound coming.

Mark doesn't stop.

"Oh my god," he groans. "You're still coming."

He slams in again. Harder. Rougher. His hips stutter. His voice turns desperate.

"F-Fuck, you’re squeezing the life outta me—Jesus, I can’t—"

You grab his arm—claw into his shoulder—

"Do it," you whisper. "Come inside. Again. I want to feel it—please, Mark—"

He slams in and stays.

Thick.

Buried.

Deep.

His cock jerks once, twice—

And then he's coming.

Hard.

So fucking much.

You feel every pulse. Every rope. Every drop of cum flooding into you like your pussy was made to take it. Your belly aches with the heat of it, your whole body shaking beneath him.

He moans into your mouth, still grinding his hips, like he wants to push it deeper. Like he's trying to mark you from the inside out.

"I love you," he says again. "You're mine. Mine. Fuck—"

His forehead presses to yours.

You both breathe like you just survived something.

And maybe you did.

He pulls out slow.

You whimper.

His cum spills out of you—wet, hot, shameless.

He watches it and groans.

God, I want to lick it all up. I want to see it on her tongue. Taste it from her pussy. Watch it drop onto my hand just so I can push it back inside.

Then—reaches down, spreads your thighs wider, pushes two fingers back in, curling them to keep it from leaking.

"I'm keeping it in," he murmurs. "Every drop."

You twitch. "Pervert."

"Yours," he smirks.

Your legs won't stop trembling.

You're boneless beneath him, soaked in sweat, skin sticky with bruises and spit and slick. Your pussy pulses with the aftershocks—raw, full, dripping. You can still feel him leaking out of you. Still feel his fingers there—gently plugging it back in.

Mark's forehead rests against your temple.

His voice is hoarse. "Didn't mean to get that hard."

You snort, exhausted. "Liar."

He laughs quietly, arm wrapping tighter around your waist.

"I did," he admits. "You looked too good. All bruised and bandaged and half-naked. And your mouth—God—your mouth was saying stop but your eyes said keep going."

"They didn't."

"They screamed it."

You hum, too tired to argue.

He shifts slightly and you wince, a soft sound escaping.

"Too much?"

"No," you rasp. "Not enough."

Mark groans and drops a kiss to your shoulder.

"You're unbelievable," he mumbles. "Most people want a nap after getting railed."

"Nap after round five," you mumble.

His cock twitches against your thigh.

"...Don't say that unless you mean it."

You crack one eye open. Smirk. "You're hard again?"

"You were clenching," he huffs. "You know what that does to me."

You roll onto your back—barely—pulling him with you. He drapes an arm over your waist, nose burying in your hair.

You both breathe in silence for a minute.

"...It smells like sex in here."

"Yeah," Mark grins into your neck. "Like you. And me. And all the filth we just did."

You feel his cock throb again. He's not even inside, and he's still hard. Still aching.

"Don't even think about it."

"I wasn't," he lies instantly.

If she clenches around me one more time, I'm gonna fuck her into the mattress and come until she's dripping for a week.

"You're twitching.”

"So are you."

"...Pervert."

He kisses the shell of your ear. "Yours."

His hand slides up under your ruined tank top. His palms rests beneath your ribs—warm. careful.

You sigh. Sink into him.

"I love you," he murmurs again, softer this time.

You whisper it back.

And finally, your eyes start to flutter closed.

And outside, Cecil orders every camera wiped, every log erased... and a hazmat crew for medbay three.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

a/n: heyooo! sorry for being inactive! i was out on vacation with my family and i didn't have time to post anything ;w;

but don't worry! i'm back and i have a looooot in my drafts that i'm itching to post soon! >:)

[cherryyluvs]

thank you so much for your lovely comment and request! 😊 I had a blast writing this Makima!Reader x Invincible fic, I’ve never watched Chainsaw Man, and did 2 variants but I hope I captured her character well! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝⋆˙⟡♡

Mark never knew what to make of you.

From the moment you entered his life, you were a mystery, a force of nature that defied explanation. You weren't just another government agent, you weren't a hero nor a villain, You were something far worse. Cecil had introduced you guys months ago, long before he got to know what you truly were.

You worked closely with the GDA, but your loyalty? It wasn't to humanity. No, your loyalty belonged to yourself.

Mark was new to all this superhero stuff when you first took interest in him, barely coming as invincible. You've watched him, studied him, and when the moment was right you tested him. You treated him like a pet, praising him when he listened.

The way you carried yourself, the way you spoke, everything about you was.. Deliberate. You never raised your voice, never rushed, and never lost control. Even when standing in a bloodied field your expression was eerily calm.

Mark had long since learned to not trust Cecil, he found himself even more wary of you. You had a way of making people listen to you, bending them to your will with nothing but a soft spoken command. Mark witnessed it firsthand, watched trained soldiers and hardened killers fall in line the moment you uttered a word.

The way you'd pat his head after a mission, the way you'd speak to him with that same voice someone might use on a misbehaving dog.

“You're such a good boy mark” you say, voice honey smooth. “But you could be so much better”

Cecil knows you're dangerous, but too useful to ignore. Maybe even he isn't fully in control of you – maybe you let him think he is.

›

Cecil had called every available resource to contain the crisis, but in the end. He knew there was only one person who could turn the tide in their favor. You.

The sky was painted in fire and blood. Shattered buildings, cities, town littered with debris, and bodies of those unfortunate who got caught

The air thick with the scent of blood, smoke, people screaming, some human, some not.

That's why he called you.

Mark stood beside Cecil, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw clenched. “This is a mistake” he muttered. “You think she can just– what? Talk to them into stopping?”

Cecil didn't answer right away, instead he just exhaled through his nose as he pulled out a cigarette. “She’s got it handled Mark”

Mark turned his head and there you stood, calm. The very image of control, even in this chaos you were untouchable.

Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you stepped forward, eyes scanning the screen and images of the battle happening. Mark felt his stomach tighten.

He always hated that look in your eyes, like you weren't human. Like you saw everything and everyone.

“Lets begin”

›

The first variant you encountered was impossible to miss. A cocky smirk, a distinct mohawk, and a wild, unhinged energy that made him unpredictable.

He had a version of you in his word, a dangerous woman who knew just how to break him. He remembers the way she used to whisper his name like it was some secret meant for her alone , or how you dismantled his world. That version of you died in his arms, the light leaving her eyes. And yet, here you are alive.

“What? Got nothing to say to me?” you murmured, titling your head ever so slightly.

His jaw clenched, shit.

Without thinking he lunged, fist ready to strike,

But then your eyes met his

It hit him like a brick wall. The weight of your stare, the sheer force of your presence. His body seized mid motion.

He gritted his teeth. “Dammit”

“I was looking forward to seeing you dead” He spat

“Sit” you replied softly. And he obeyed.

His body dropped to his knees and before he could even think to resist, muscles locking into place like a force was keeping him down.

Eyes widen, mouth slightly parted in shock

You reached out, gentle fingers caressing against his bloodstained cheek. “That's better” you said. “You're not nearly as charming when you're standing”

His hands curled into fists. He hated this, hated that his body had betrayed him. “You're just like her,” He growled, voice lower. “A control freak.”

›

The second to approach was sinister Mark, He landed with a heavy thud, knuckles dripping with blood that wasn't his own, his gaze softening the moment he laid eyes on you.

Ah.. so in his world you had been something more. A partner, a lover, maybe even a weakness he couldn't afford. You walked closer.

He didn't move away. “How did it end?” you asked, voice smooth as silk. “Did I leave? Did i betray you?”

He chuckled. “You're not mine, though she died screaming”

You met his gaze with no fear in sight. “And did you enjoy it?”

His grin widened. Oh, he liked you.

He stepped closer, circling around you like a predator, He didn't resist. He welcomed the control. The weight of your power pressing down on him.

Before his mouth opened, whether to argue or scream, blood burst from his nose and ears.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Body dropping as his breath hitched from the force pulling him to the ground.

For a moment he was silent, then he laughed.

“God you're beautiful”

You crouched beside him, tilting his chin up “I know.”

› By the time the war ended, most of the invincibles had either submitted to you or been wiped from existence.

The survivors? Well lets just say they belonged to you now.

Cecil didn't ask what you planned to do with them. He knew better than to question you.

As for the original mark? He watched you from a distance, his hands clenched at his sides. You had done the impossible, took men who were meant to be unstoppable.. And bent them to your will.

And worst of all?

Somewhere deep down, in the part of himself he refused to acknowledge..

A part of him wanted to kneel too.

[gatorbites-imagines]

*crawls* conquest forcing you a young spry guy to breed him out of nowhere when you were just off doing business and now you have a litter of pups and he still riding you until you turn into those dry ass tops *runs*

I love old men...

Hero reader and conquest hmm... 

Conquest putting reader in the amazonian position hmm.... 

Like, reader isn't even one of the big heroes, like he hasn't even been asked to join a team, but he's strong enough to land a punch on conquest during a fight. He would have been able to land more, if he hadn't been so distracted. Conquest is just so fucking hot, how could he not be hard the entire time? 

Conquest crushing the reader against the ground, ready to crush his skull, only for his brows to furrow, nose to flare and a crooked feral grin stretching on to his lips. “Very well, worm. I will admit your proposition is tempting, for such a weakling” cuz viltrumites fight as foreplay. 

Reader gets fucked with a concussion and dude doesn't even care, hands gripping Conquests legs and hands, eyes rolling and back arching. Conquest doesn't have the most experience, but god, having such a heavy muscular guy slamming down on his dick and aching hips is more than enough. 

Conquest laughing and mocking the reader for only being able to “spill your seed” once, and that he should “prove your worth, worm”. Viltrumite, conquestussy level milking and overstimulation. I know that viltrumite hole is lethal, especially for a normal hero like the reader. 

Reader ends up saving earth cuz Conquests spends his time riding dick and milking him dry, instead of destroying invincible and the planet. Give this guy a medal. 

Conquest gripping the readers chin and telling him he will be back when all it said and done, and that reader will become acceptable with time. This is just the viltrumite speaking, he really enjoyed himself. Plus, reader looks cute sobbing with pleasure and overstimulation. 

After Conquest leaves, reader is just limp, sucked completely dry, and he swears his hips have to be broken. Savior of the planet, laying in the hospital bed in the GDA, with his hips in a cast, covered in bruises and a neck brace. “It was all worth it” he says, thinking about that big heavy guy sitting on his face. 

Mark pulling up, unaware of what the reader actually did to “defeat” Conquest to thank him. And readers still dehydrated, exhausted and seeing double from how good and intense it was. “yeah... no worries man... he can come back if he wants, I can take him” reader slurs. And mark thinks “in a fight, he means”. Yeah... not in a fight. 

[tokoyamisstuff]

omg I definetly need more about the Invincible variants if you may!!

Second Chance At Love Pt. 2

After -> this <- silly lil' adorable idea by @rainydaygotham (but I made Reader a civilian instead).

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: stockholm-syndrome, mentions of death, angst, (fabricated) tragic backstory, canon divergence, not proofread

A/N: whew, I never imagined you people would enjoy it this much. thanks for all the feedback, it really means the world to me! 💌🐞

"Our satellites found the missing variant, Sir."

"And what?" Cecil unintentionally stared daggers towards Donald, probably due to the stress and the fact that both of them had given their everything those past 32 hours. "Spit it out, damn it!"

Even through the reflection of his glasses Donald's mannerism were an open book for the head of the GDA, and right now he acted like he always did when he was unsure how to deliver troublesome information to his boss.

But this time it wasn't particulary bad news that made him hesistant, but the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"He-he is...with an old friend of our Mark, and...currently not attacking anyone."

The elder man rubbed his temples, lack of sleep being a steady companion in this profession but damn his advancing age sure made it harder to function properly.

"I want him on screen immediately!" he commanded harshly, voice not even slightly hinting the extent of his exhaustion.

This one apparently is more clever than the original Mark if he was able to slip past their organization's surveilance, Cecil concluded as the spitting image of his involuntary ally popped up on the monitor.

The young Viltrumite perfectly blended in with the crowd, sitting in a tiny suburban cafè far away from all the chaos. On the opposite end of the coffee table were you - not an unknown face to the GDA solely because of your affiliation with the world's strongest hero.

Cecil worked his jaw in irritation at the unfitting piece to this mess of a puzzle he was expected to solve. No way one of them came here merely to catch up with an old acquaintace...

...and yet for now, there were more urgent matters that he was needed to tend to first.

"Keep an eye on them and report shall he do anything out of the ordinary." As if this right now wasn't enough. "As long as he's preoccupied we have one less monster to worry about...for now."

Meanwhile you were sitting in front of your still untouched drink, watching your reflection on the liquid surface.

There was a radio running in the background, almost constantly updating you about how the other variants were still wreaking havoc everywhere, laying waste to the world as you knew it while you were trapped here acting as if it's a normal fucking tuesday.

You really shouldnt't be playing all domestic with a man that's just as much of a villain as his alternate selves currently on the run, and yet you keep reminding yourself that the only reason you're still alive is the uncertain benevolence of that very same person.

Trying to convince him to see the error of his ways or maybe even switch sides was out of the question - this Mark, just as the other sociopaths you saw in the news, has totally lost it a long time ago. You should be glad that he currently entertains himself with this little obsession of his, but that's no guarantee he couldn't snap and reduce you to a bloodied pulp any time.

And still, even though you have no other choice, it felt so terribly wrong to have a date - that felt more like a hostage situation - during an international emergency of apocalyptic scale.

Starting to feel sick as reality of your predicament dawned on you once again, you shoved the cup to aside, bracing yourself to interact with your kidnapper that hasn't initiated anything by himself until now.

Invincible on the other hand had destroyed Levi's orb long before finding you, never having disclosed his true intentions of joining this war. Also, with all the damage he's done the other 19 versions of himself would be sufficient, surely their 'boss' wouldn't care if one went astray from the plan. Not that he ever trusted Angstrom to not stab him in the back at some point, so who cares.

Back in the day you always had some spare clothes for this world's Mark in your room, in case he needed them - which was frankly quite often as they tend to get either torn or bloody from spontaneous fights. Maybe it was the sentimental value that made you keep them long after your friendship had ended, but right now they came in handy.

The other Mark nervously picks and tugs on the fabric, not used to wear civilian clothing after what felt like an eternity. It made him feel incredibly vulnerable to present himself this way. For years his costume had served as a barrier between himself and humanity, a symbol that the person he once was had long since ceased to exist so his Viltrumite side could rise.

Still, those familiar clothes, especially since given to him by you of all people, offered a strange comfort all the same.

At least he looked remotely normal like this, but god this man can be awkward at times. Some things really never change, even across different dimensions. Right now he was a perfect picture of misery, looking at you expectantly like a lost puppy that had just been kicked. Almost adorable, if you shun out the circumstances.

An uninvolved stranger would never believe that this is the villain who reduced entire cities to ashes just a few hours ago.

"So" you finally dare speaking up, casually leaning back in your seat as you take a sip of your already ice cold drink."I take it you're not a Seance Dog fan anymore?"

Noticing the bright logo on his shirt, Invincible actually managed to crack a smile - that trademark lopsided smirk of his that seemed more like a snarl now that you saw it after all this time. "Oh, you'd be shocked: The author is actually one of the few people I deliberately kept alive."

He's right, you are shocked not only with the answer, but the delivery as well. Suddenly you regret having pried in the first place. "Just a joke" he adds as soon as he sees the slightest shift of your expression, clutching the edge of the tabletop in frustration until it left a dent of his handprint.

You don't want to laugh. This isn't even remotely funny, and his reaction was awfully concerning as well. And yet you force yourself to snort, nails digging into your palm in an attempt to keep up the facade. "Glad to know you're as much of a weirdo as the original one."

It amazed yourself how calm and collected you could act, despite being as terrified of him as in the very beginning. Maybe you got used to the feeling already, or you had discovered a hidden talent of working well under pressure. May apply for a job at the GDA if you're ever alive and free again.

For the remaining duration of this afternoon, the two of you exchanged trivial stories about the past with your respective counterparts, many of whom were shared experiences. And as much as you tried to deny it, deep down you were aware you enjoyed this conversation more than you should.

There were only mild differences between your two dimensions as it seemed - at least when it came to your friendship, that was.

Invincible was pretty secretive about anything else really, but judging from the bits he threw in between you deduced he got his abilities way earlier than your Mark, which caused his father to never lose track of his original goal.

Occasionally Mark would state contradictionary opinions and you were sure most of it was just him mindlessly repeating the indoctrination his father had hammered into his head through inhumane methods.

You can only imagine what it meant for a gentle, sensitive soul like Mark to be subjected to a Viltrumite upbringing.

The sun was already starting to set when you were scooped up once again, however this time around you weren't afraid of the height in the slightest. You felt his chin resting atop of your head as he carried you through the sky, holding you firmly but carefully like you were a precious porcellain doll - and compared to his strenght you might as well be.

Yet all you could think of was the beauty of the twilight sky, and how oddly content you felt at that very moment.

Your date had promised to bring you to a secret location with a breathtaking view, and he really did not disappoint. It was in the midst of nature, absent of any human intervention. Just the two of you, surrounded by the sounds of the earth and the sight of the most horrible day in history of mankind slowly coming to an end.

Invincible spread his jacket out for you to sit on, and you secretly appreciated the gesture. A murderer, but also a gentleman, you mentally noted. Ironic. He slumped down on the damp grass an appropriate distance away from you, subconsciously starting to rip out some leaves.

You lean your head against his shoulder and he freezes in his tracks at the unexpected display of affection - or at least he hopes it's the absence of fear. For a long while you remain like this, admiring the view and each other's closeness, until you disturb the comfortable silence.

"How did you..." You hesitated for a moment, but then you met his eyes, so completely and utterly filled with genuine affection that caused something to blossom beneath your ribcage which you didn't want to acknowledge.

Even though you were still wary of him, it was hard to stay objective in the proximity of a literal carbon copy of the love of your life in nearly every single way.

"...how did you become like this?"

There was a long pause between your question and his answer.

"I got my powers shortly before my 13th birthday..." In hindsight, after having met the other variants who got them even earlier, it could've been worse. At least he was granted a few good years. "...and from then on, everything suddenly changed. My mom had an 'accident', so my dad was left to raise me on his own. It was-"

Mark's voice cracked, eyes glossed with unshed tears he was long since taught to repress as they were a sign of weakness. "The only times I felt truly happy was when I sneaked out to see you...I think for a long time those visits were what kept me sane. But nothing went past him..."

He balled a fist in the fabric over his sternum, and there was so much agony in his tone that it made your own heart clench painfully. "Dad- no, he's not a father. Never was. Anyways, Nolan tolerated it for a while, thinking I'd outgrow this sentiment and understand humans are beneath us. But when I turned 18..."

A tidal wave of shame and guilt washed over him, making him unable to bear looking at you as he continued his story. "He made me watch...I should've done something, I should've defended you, but...I was so scared of him. I just stood there when he snapped your neck."

The disclosure of the other's fate ultimately caused the panic attack that was seething inside of you ever since your first encounter with this variant to finally unravel. You frantically tug on your collar as you began to hyperventillate, feeling as if it was actually your neck that was being assaulted.

"Don't worry, I took care of it..." Invincible still had his face buried in his hands, and there was an eerie coldness in the following statement. "It took me a while, but I got stronger just to avenge you...ripped his sorry excuse of a heart right out of his fucking chest."

That's hardly a solace for either of you, isn't it.

Mark looks down at his palms as vivid images of his past crimes creep up on his mind, accompanied by a neurotic laughter that could only be described as absolutely broken...

...until you cup his hands with yours, the gesture conveying emotions you would never be able to put into words.

"Everything felt so pointless after you were gone..." he snivels, not resisting as you couldn't help but tug his head towards your lap. "You have no idea what emptiness you left behind...at some point I started doing unspeakable things just in order to feel something, anything to distract myself from the grief..."

You hum in between choked sobs, weeping for this lost soul as you rake your fingers through his hair, listening to him repeat countless apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry...I should've just flown into the sun...I should've been stronger, better...I didn't want to become cruel...I wanted to be good...for you..."

What were you even doing here? Have you lost your mind?! Snap out of it, this is insane!

"Shh...it's enough. Stop tormenting yourself." No. He deserves far worse. Victim of circumstance or not, this man is beyond saving.

"Accompany me to my homeworld. Let me indulge you the way you deserve. Never leave me again" was what he desperately wanted to say, but instead he gulped harshly around the lump forming in his throat before announcing "I'll take you back home soon...phase one of Angstrom's plan is over, the variants will leave and you're safe again."

"Huh? I thought-"

"Drop the performance" he ordered as he fought to regain his composure. "You can speak freely. I meant what I said, I won't hurt you. Even if you hate me, even if you hurl all kinds of insults and accusations at me...I can take it. I'm just grateful for today. I'll cherish this memory forever."

Yes. This was more than he could possibly ask for. He already destroyed the life of your counterpart in his world, it's not fair of him to do the same to someone so precious twice.

Mark doesn't care what happens to him from now on, because thanks to you he was able to make peace with what happened.

"Come." He jolts up as he wipes his tear-stained cheeks clean, not biding you another look as he fears that otherwise he won't be able to pull through with his good intentions. "It's getting cold, we should-"

"No!"

Out of a whim you tackle hug the Viltrumite, who is caught off guard enough to stagger and fall. You softly punch against his chest and he allows you to let it all out, though he has no idea what you're on about.

"You-you're not like those other variants of Mark...please..." Your bottom lip is trembling as you speak, voice wavering with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher yourself. "Don't leave. If you have nothing to live for in your timeline, then...just stay in this one."

"And then what? Go to the Pentagon and say 'hi, I'm one of the Invincibles that ruined simply everything, but now I'd like to stay here'? They'll never believe that I don't have an ulterior motive!"

"So what? It's not like they can contain or even scratch you. And even if they could, I-I'll make sure to visit you every day!" You giggle like an infatuated teenager as you add that last sentence, and even a maniac like him realizes you must've lost your mind.

God, this is all his fault...

"What are you even talking about?" he almost yells, now on top of you and softly grabbing your shoulders to shake you ever so slightly. "Why are you trying to convince me? That can't seriously be what you want!"

"I-I...don't know." You're staring straight at him now, a stubborn determination in your eyes that almost frightens this unstoppable man. Wrapping your arms around his neck to make your foreheads touch, you whisper "All I'm sure of is that you didn't deserve any of this, and maybe...shit, just give us some time to figure it out, would you?"

Mark's hands were hovering over your body, giving it his best to hold back yet it was a lost battle before it even started. He utters vile curses under his breath before finally crushing you flush against his body, lips brushing against yours as if to ask for permission. You're quick to take the initiative, tossing all reason overboard as you give in to this all-consuming madness some might call hope...

...but just when you were about to pull him in for a long overdue kiss, the man that was straddling your waist mere seconds ago had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The soundwave reached your ears much later than the actual impact, and much to your shock, when you saw not one but two Invincibles - yours having been knocked into a nearby rock formation - you immediately understood what it meant.

"Mark, wait!" you screamed, but your plea went on deaf ears.

After everything your world's Invincible had to endure those past few days, he wasn't even slightly in an amenable constitution. The only thing he was able to feel at this moment was rage, and he needed to direct it to something or otherwise he'd burst.

Sadly the next best target of his fury was the variant right in front of him - a man who not only attacked his homeplanet, but tried to violate someone he once held dear.

Mark will make him pay for trying to harm you.

"C'mon, stand up. Right now all I want to do is hit something...as hard as I can."

[Next Part]

[c-nstellati-ns]

APOLLO, GOD OF MUSIC ... — conquest x medic!superhero!m!reader prt.1

you were retired, for gods sake. why in the hell would everything go to shit exactly when you were on vacation? you struggled to even comprehend the fact that there were more than one invincibles flying around, and now the city was falling apart all around you? retired or not, there were people who needed help and that's what you planned to do, no matter how reluctant you were about it. ... so how the hell did you manage to get yourself wrapped up with the very alien who was turning this city into a fine dust?

> author's note — this is incredibly self-indulgent and the first time i've written in literal months LOL so sorry for being inactive for so long !! this was inspired by dj subatomic supernova from NSR, lucio from overwatch and luna snow from marvel rivals ... i love me a silly guy who makes music and heals people via that music :-) not that subatomic heals people ... more like ........ he tries to kill them via music and his planets ........ but whatever !!! this is irrelevant !!!!!! ( i was gonna have this be smut originally but i like where i ended off to continue into a part two soon ^_^ so sorry if anything is bad i am very rusty ... feel free to send me some thirsts in my inbox if you'd like! ) > word count — 1.6k > featuring — our fave viltrumite, conquest <3 > cw — intentional lower case, canon typical violence, unspoken death threats? nothing much really its mostly establishing how your relationship came to be before things get steamy LOL so sorry for the bait

MDNI. 18+ ACCOUNT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

you had parted ways with the GDA some time ago, marking it off as a need for something new. you could only fight so long, for so much. you had been in the spotlight ever since your powers had finally developed, being someone who could virtually heal anything with the power of music. it was rather silly in your eyes but it made you and anyone you wanted to protect virtually invincible. any wounds or injuries would mend in seconds in your presence, people feeling safe around you, other heroes feeling energised to keep on fighting. at some point, you felt the same way until… you didn't. it had only been a matter of time, after all.

the GDA was desperate to keep you so you kept their number just in case things were to happen. that is, until something finally did happen. it was a random tuesday, you think. you had been on the way to your hotel in the city for your little vacation, you had been waiting for so long for it. tapping into your savings from working with the guardians to afford it. you were happy, life was good. you had a nice car, a nice place far from the city, a couple dogs, cats, and one snake that you loved dearly. you were single, not that you minded much actually.

so what exactly happened? how the hell did your car end up split in half by falling debris and cradling the lifeless body of some innocent civilian that got extremely unlucky? you could barely wrap your mind around it.

it was hard to try and keep your music up enough to keep yourself safe, but to try and sweep in and aid those who were helpless was something else entirely. you let out a loud groan of frustration as you carefully set the body down somewhere undisturbed, making a mental note to come back for it later. you had to keep up, getting as many people out of there as you could, but there was always the few that escaped your grasp, all falling victim to some horrible fate that no amount of healing nor music could help. you couldn't get distracted.

you were glad you had kept the equipment the GDA had made for you, even gladder to have kept it close. the music coming off of the holographic speakers around you was loud, a beacon of hope in the midst of the destruction around you, but it kept people safe and you kept playing. you kept far away from the fighting as much as you could, ushering innocents away from their very close deaths. of course, you were putting a big ole target on your head with how loud it all was, but you couldn't care less. sounds waves were blasting anything that came your way, cracking open asphalt that trapped some poor kid underneath it all. you could spot the blood pooling next to him, his mother probably. you grimaced and carried him away, making sure to heal whatever cuts and bruises he had. thankfully, unharmed physically. mentally… you wouldn't wish that on your worst enemy.

you were doing your job well, keeping things somewhat peaceful until you spotted a stray arm sticking out of some debris. you quickly flew over, pushing off any concrete that held this person down. your heart beating frantically in your chest, you dug as much as you could, hoping that they didn't die before you got there. you grabbed at their hand and pulled as much as you could, using your sound waves to blast at the concrete as you did so. you let out a sigh of relief as you felt the warm from their palm, squeezing it in reassurance. you passed your fingers over their wrist, trying to find their pulse but no dice. so you used your powers to heal whatever injuries they might've sustained, a soothing melody that has the person feeling mushy.

"hey, are you okay?!" you shouted over the chaos around you, hand reaching out to grip at their shoulder. you pulled as hard as you can, thinking to yourself, holy fuck this guy is heavy as hell. you were about to yell again until the hand grabbed at your own roughly, your joints creaking in protest as it did so.

"woah--" you couldn't even finish your sentence before a giant man emerged from the rubble in front of you. he was much, much taller than you, and built like a fucking tank. if you weren't scared shitless, you would have asked him where he worked out. your jaw dropped, staring at the stranger before you.

conquest was having fun with this. he was having fun with all of this! this planet's defences were as measly as he had imagined, so it wasn't a surprise when the creatures that inhabited it were squished by a simple rock to their soft spots. but he was pleasantly surprised by its defender. a halfbreed viltrumite, weak like all those other flesh bags, but much more resilient. the worm even got him to bleed, which was a surprise in itself.

so who was this, mending the little scrapes and bruises that his body has yet to heal? why did it feel�� good? like a warm feeling throughout his body, a hum of a familiar tune that made him want to… sleep? what the hell was this? it feels odd, he feels light. lighter than he would when he's flying, it was something else entirely. the touch was soft, much unlike he's ever felt before. a gentle squeeze, a faint hold. it was a strange combination, nothing like he's felt before. he let out a rough grunt, grabbing at the hand that was given to him, rising from the rubble he was buried underneath.

conquest brought up the creature that had healed him by the arm, thick brows furrowed as he stared down at it. it was fearful, trying to wrestle out of his iron grip and escape. but the viltrumite was curious about it now, who exactly was this worm? and was it so stupid to not know its own enemy?

you were gonna throw up. of course, of course you healed the wrong person. just your luck that you had healed THE VERY FUCKING THING THAT WAS CAUSING ALL THIS DEATH AND DESTRUCTION IN THE FIRST PLACE. you let out a pained noise as his grip around your wrist tightened, trying to just get away. you could keep yourself safe when fighting anything but a viltrumite? this was something else entirely.

you were smarter than to try and use your offensive powers against him, so instead, you allowed yourself to play a somewhat scattered melody to heal the broken bones within your hand and wrist. he tilted his head to the side, examining you like a piece of meat. i suppose that was what you were now. a stupid, musical adept piece of meat for him to tear into.

closing your eyes, you couldn't believe this was the day you would die. you didn't even get to take your vacation.

… but nothing happens? it's been a couple minutes, he should've killed you by now. you crack your eye open and take a look at him, startled by his one eyed gaze. his pupils are slits, examining you like you were some foreign… thing. and then he smiles. it's an unsettling one, but he grabs you by the waist, a much gentler hold than what he had on your wrist.

"you're the foolish one who helped me, aren't you?" his deep voice rings out over your healing melody and the rumbling chaos around you both.

you're speechless for a moment before nodding frantically, looking around for anything, anyone. unfortunately, no dice. it was just you, him and the fuck metric ton of dead bodies that he caused around you.

"hmm…" conquest mutters to himself. it was a strange feeling, the closer you were to him, the more that strange warm feeling seeped deep into his bones. he couldn't help but let out a deep purr that rattled you silly. he was like a big cat to you, a big, murderous psychotic cat. with his arms around you, it was… comforting? in a really, really fucked up way. you swallowed thickly as you stared up at him as he smiled down at you, what the fuck is going on?

"what is your name, worm?" the stranger asked, examining your face closely as he spoke. your mouth was dry, gaping like a fish out of water. his arms was tightening around you the longer you took to answer him and you stammered out your full legal out of sheer nervousness. he didn't seem like a patient man at all.

he repeats it under his breath, it rolls off nicely on his tongue. his arms lighten around your waist, your ribs definitely bruised after all this. you let out a groan, brain too scattered to make a coherent melody to heal yourself. instead, you looked back to him as his grin widened. crooked teeth and a prominent scar, you would have called him handsome if you weren't actively in danger of being ripped apart by this alien.

"… perhaps lord thragg wouldn't mind if i kept a pet, hm?" conquest purrs, that metallic hand reaching up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "a healing songbird, doesn't that sound nice? my little songbird." you barely have enough time to speak before he takes off with you in his arms, away from the destruction and chaos that he caused.

mark was clueless as to why conquest had disappeared all of the sudden. in a blink of an eye, he was alone, beaten and bruised on the ground. it gave him time to breathe but it was nerve wracking to think about.

What the fuck just happened?

all works belong to c-nstellati-ns ⓒ 2025. do not steal, repost or feed into AI. ask before translating.

[tiramissyoucake]

Hear me out, Omnimark told Atom Eve “I've always hated you” and my mind keeps thinking that the reader of the Omnimark universe rejected it because she knew Eve's feelings for the Mark of that universe, if she had confessed to the reader she would probably have rejected it with “I don't want to get between you and Eve” or “I don't want to hurt Eve's feelings, she's my friend and I'm sure that if you gave her a chance you won't regret it!” And from there, Omnimark developed hatred towards Eve by ruining his girl's head and preventing them from being together 😭😭

GOOOODDDDDDD. HERES AN OVERLY EXCITED BLURB

It was like a knee jerk reaction, seeing her of all people invoked a deep-loathing he thought he satiated ages ago, but no. Breaking her leg wasn't enough, she needed to die here as well.

"I've always hated you." It felt so good to admit it out loud, to the rubble, to the crushed asphalt, to whoever was around, he remembered it like it was yesterday.

"I really like you, Mark." A spark of hope. "I really do... but... don't you think you deserve someone who can keep up with you?" Your nervous expression made him melt. Wait. What?

"... keep up with me..?" He echoed, blinking as if that would clear up the confusion. "(Name), I don't understand."

His hand held yours tightly. You squeezed it gently. "I'm no hero, I'm not even affiliated with the GDA—"

"I don't care about that!" He quickly shot back, you didn't let up. "But you should! Mark, you need someone who... won't be a burden on you, someone strong like you.. like, I dunno... Eve..?"

... Eve? What the hell did Eve have to do with this? You couldn't hold back a small smile as you came closer. "Between you and me, I really think she likes you... so you should go for it!" Your tone was so sweet, so happy to give him away to someone he didn't want.

"(Name), please-"

"I know it's weird, but please, Mark. Give her a chance. She's my friend and doing this with you..." Your hand loosened. He could feel you slipping away. "It doesn't feel right, you know how close we are! Her parents know me and everything!"

Always throwing away your happiness for others, his hand stood there in the air as you parted from him. "Trust me, it's better this way! For you two. And for me!"

'You two'. Him and Eve. Like it was pre-established in your head, like there was no chance to argue or change anything. He wasted no time after you left.

That heartbreak earned him a bloodbath, he was always calm and collected, never put his emotions before his job but he earned it, first was Eve, naturally, he was sure you'd be sad over your 'friend's passing but what kind of friend makes you give up happiness for them. Blinded rage, he didn't care if you claimed that you denied him of your own accord.

He wanted you. You. You. No one else.

Whatever members of whatever pathetic heroes team remained were next, as if first blood wasn't enough he went on a red-hazed rampage, he needed to let out the full extent of his anger before he'd come to see you.

And when he did, he looked like a nightmare, breaking into your home, blood that you knew wasn't his dripping on your floors as he approached you. "I confessed to you." He pants, fists clenched. "I laid my heart out for you." He leaned down to your trembling form, his hand outstretched. "I want your answer, not Eve's, no one else's." The blood soaked your cheek, labelling you an accomplice.

"... Eve.. where..." Oh, poor thing. You were so scared you couldn't get the words out, he shushed you and hugged you close, the metallic stench of blood filled your nostrils. "It's ok, no one will bother us, you can answer me honestly now."

[callmeimlost]

Open to requests? Stand ready for my arrival 👹

May I request a Main!Mark x Starfire!reader? Like maybe reader is a kryptonian and Tamaranean mix, just super OP. Like imagine Starfire!reader coming to earth, becomes a famous hero, becomes the symbol of hope, and Mark becomes super nervous to meet her, but turns out she’s really kind and fun

(And maybe a cameo of Cecil, losing his mind trying to find weaknesses for these OP aliens that keep crashing into earth 💀🤚)

Just imagine Starfire!reader teaching Mark about krypton and Tamaran, while he teaches her about earth. And how Starfire!reader would help him after all his battles, and how she’d make him feel better by always just being there for him

(If this is too confusing, or if you’re just not getting the vision then that’s okay. Have a nice day 💕)

✷ PLANET HER:: mark Grayson x Starfire!reader

WARNING:: reader is very OP, cannon gore, mark & reader teach each other about their planets, bubbly! Reader.

SUMMARY:: after crash landing onto earth and being held by GDA to make sure your no true threat, you meet Mark Grayson who is utterly smitten with the idea of introducing you to life on earth !

MEIMEI YAPS:: this was all written on my phone bcs my iPad sucks rn, so sorry if there are any spelling mistakes. Also im so sorry it took me this long to write I was sick and then I went to a concert yesterday and had no time 🫩💔.

The smell of dirt and copper filled your every sense, the distant shouts, the sound of your planet falling apart at your own feet; it felt like a fever dream, truly unreal. Even with the two suns that hung over Tamaran like twins; yet even then a chill wracks through you, unsettling and churning in your stomach.

You felt the bile itching at the back of your throat, how your legs felt like jelly, or even your fingers shakily gripping at your family as you were sent into the endless abyss of space. You had floated through orbit; for how long? You couldn’t remember. The many planets you had passed by, even picking up on languages before setting off once more. Nothing habitable for you, nothing to make you stay longer than short of a day or two.

You had grown used to the impending trash looming around as you fly through, swatting at the debris of asteroids and trash floating from planets that had been long abandoned. Like an endless cycle of floating through nothing, before you had heard word of planet- earth, an odd sounding planet but nonetheless you were willing to try.

It had taken you days to fly to Earth, you had known you’d made it when you had seen the odd shaped metal floating not too far from the blue and green planet. And without hesitation you had set off onto your decent. At the speed you were going you could’ve been sick at just how hard you had pushed your self.

Breaking through the mesosphere the heat on your skin sizzling against your skin bothered you none, bringing a sense of comfort though it pales in comparison to the twin stars that hung in the sky of tamaran. Your skin felt like it was buzzing within the moment you hit the stratosphere, the air thin as you hover slowly.

Taking your time to now get closer, the air or lack there of, makes your head spin and your heart burn. You could feel your body dropping quicker than your brain could respond. Wind whipping past your face as your ears ring. Black splotches cover your vision as you realize there was no possible way of willing your body to catch itself from the whiplash inducing crash it was going to make.

You didn’t hear it; but you definitely felt it. Your body laid out in a crater sized hole in a rural field; the raw dirt and smell of flowers and grass had been the only comfort as you were lured into the darkness of your own sleep. Earth wasn’t off to a great start at all, your first impression on their people was slightly destructive, you didn’t mean to! How would you know that the spikes green stuff would be there?!

It was odd; waking up somewhere you hadn’t fallen asleep, almost panicked at the realization. The sterile walls, the smell of antiseptic. It felt powerful, protected. Your hands twitching at your side as the clatter of cuffs to the handles of the frame to this mysterious bed.

Your palms feel warm and tight balled in fists as you yank at the cuffs, the metal bending at the sheer strength of your incessant tugging before pulling harder out of frustration you break the handle of the bed frame making you yelp softly at your wrist that was not old still in the cuffs but now had a metal bar latched to the other end.

You can only hold it up as you look at it dumbly, before you could even try to further free yourself from the bent out shackle the door to the room slides open with an almost comical sound. A man; no- a handler. A man who looks to not know rest, the distant yet stern look in his eyes, and the crisp look he had told you that he was in charge; and he had done this to you, and it makes you press yourself harder against the pillow behind you.

The chilling blue eyes he held that pinned you to your spot and kept your mouth sealed shut, waiting for him to speak. But he doesn’t- at first. He lets in a heard of doctors who check these odd shaped projectile machines that move and fill up the once quiet room with loud medical noises. You watched with curious eyes and a pinched brow as the man steps forward at the foot of the bed.

He doesn’t ask you any questions, he only looks to the doctors flitting his gaze between them and you as he speaks in a tone you could tell he was talking about you but not to you, and the very few words you do understand stem from him mentioning Tamaran. He speaks quick and with purpose and it confuses you but you, but the small broken sentences you can make don’t seem to help either of you much.

But you improve! Only at the expense of a poor doctor trying to check your vitals when you use the Tamaranian way of exchanging language when you lay one on him. And even more to the dismay of Cecil because the moment you start forming true sentences he learns you are just lollipops and rainbows; well- for someone who grew up on a planet where warriors are practically bred.

And with that you had spent little time under Cecil’s watch from what you understood you had only been under watch for the purpose of making sure you were no real threat to Earth, you were almost harmless had it not been for the fact that you could probably blow half of the building up with only a few beams of that green light glowing around your fists when you train.

But it was a surprise not only to Cecil but you as well when Mark Grayson stumbles upon you in private training he watches you with curiosity, his skin buzzing with warmth, you were intimidating. How easy everything seemed for you, the way you effortlessly move around and can be efficient. When Cecil catches Mark he felt like a kid being scolded for eating snacks before dinner.

“who was that?” Mark couldn’t keep his eyes off of you even as Cecil was practically guiding Mark out of the vicinity, he didn’t need two stupidly strong aliens consorting around with each other seeing as Mark is a loose cannon and you are emotionally driven. Cecil would only glare at Mark before spatting “Earth’s second biggest gain and potential enemy” and it wouldn’t be long before Mark would see you again, just not necessarily in the presence of Cecil.

When you were trusted under the guise that you were to work for the GDA you were propelled into the hero scene and became popular amongst the younger crowd, he’d see you on the news when he was on patrol, how you had taken the lizard league down on your own, how you mainly worked solo jobs.

He’d see how truly easy you made it look, how you knocked around people way bigger than you, how you could take a punch and not react let alone show any weakness; and when he finally met you face to face he was practically sweating out of his suit.

You were prettier up close, you emanated an aura that could be ignored- well for the purpose of Mark’s job in that moment it wasn’t time to be star struck but do his job. Cecil had sent the two of you with a group of astronauts to Mars where you’d make yourselves stay hidden unless something where to go wrong and god did Mark try to convince himself he was petrified to spend any time alone with you; he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of another really strong alien who could understand at least a fraction of how he feels.

When the two of you are sent of to take the two day flight to mars the two of you sit quietly the first few hours as Mark as unserious as it sounds tried to be as nonchalant and mysterious as he could because in his eyes that’s what you were. It wasn’t until you offered to make food for the two of you had Mark let his guard down. You were a mystery to him; your words polite and tone soft, your stride was strong and though you didn’t speak much, your presence was quiet and slightly refreshing.

The first time you and Mark had truly tried to teach each other about your planets was when you laid out a plate of food that had looked odd and almost inedible. Mark put on the best smile he could as you watched with eager eyes “on my planet it is much like a turkey on your planet” and Mark would have worn a small smile at how cute the excitement on your face was had it not been for the fact that he’s pretty sure he watched the food on the plate move….

But for the sake of not ruining the small connection he just gained between the two of you he sucks it up and eats the food anyways- even if it was squishy and salty with an off putting color. “Do you have any meals on Earth that your family likes?” You had now seated yourself across from him curling your knees to your chest as you watched eagerly waiting to learn.

The two of you sat for the rest of the ride happily exchanging stories and history of your planets. How Mark knows that Tamaran is 26 light years away and that you’re actually Tamaranean royalty; is beyond him. He wondered if Cecil knew these things, or if it too personal? He didn’t know, so he never told; keeping it between you and him.

Though Mark does catches the looks of bewilderment when he explains that technology had not evolved that far on earth to the point of spacecrafts as advanced as ones on other planets that fly lightyears faster than a helicopter or an airplane. He didn’t know wether to feel pity or almost laugh when he realized that on Tamaran you didn’t have cell phones or internet, and you didn’t speak as fluently accurate; so when you watch him looking at pictures of Debbie and Nolan on his phone it was like he had grown a second head.

Plucking the little device out of his hands between your index and thumb as you tilt your head looking at the boxy metal piece of technology in your hand. “This is your communication?” Though it was more of a statement it came out as a question and it makes a small curious grin grow on Mark’s lips. “Cecil didn’t teach you about the power of a phone?” It sounded outlandish at first but Mark realized exactly who he was talking about; the man who only had time to stress out over everything else going on in the United States.

You only shake your head as you fill grip the phone looking down at the screen. “It is like the projectors we have on my planet….but trapped in a box” you swipe the screen and watch as another photo comes up, a picture of Mark with people who looked around his age all close together smiling happily. “Are these people your companions ?” You look up at Mark who looks at the photo’s with a smile. “On Earth we call them ‘friends’; companion sounds….formal”

Regardless of the fact you continue to let Mark show you many different photos of his friends and family, every time he showed you a picture he could feel your body temperature rising almost as if it were radioactive, yet you watch with curious eyes as he turns to you with a hint of amusement in his eyes “can I teach you how to use it?”

The explanation on how to work a phone was like a battle of with his brain; you were curious what every button does and what certain apps do. To say Mark had to test his wits with answering every question you have to the best of his ability without sounding like a complete fool. The two of you laughed at the others lack of under within certain contexts of conversations neither would have thought you’d have.

The two of you had been so caught up in his phone and how to work it that when it had eventually died, Mark would come to find out the astronauts were gone. The only thing left behind were a track of prints. “Shit!” And that’s when Mark also realized you were impressionable as you float by his side testing the curse word on your tongue and it makes Mark sigh as he realized how much of an influence his bad vocabulary would also have on you…..poor Cecil.

When the two of you eventually land on mars; the two of you work well together, though mark did have to worry a few times… It had never occurred to him before that sometimes the two of you were very emotionally charged, letting your moral compasses guide you rather than logic. And when the two of you learn of their disappearance the two of you go searching when you stumble upon the underground palace that belonged to sequids.

You watched Mark pull open the small hat hatch door that led underground, seeing the many little creatures slimy and sticking to helmet and suit of Mark as he tried to pull off the creature’s with yelps and shouts; watching him squirm makes you giggle as pull the last sequid off of him. “Are you okay?” You ask gently as the dull thump of the parasite on the group makes Mark shiver in disgust before he hums.

The two of you looking at the creatures with completely different looks on your faces, Mark had to do a double take when he saw the way you coo at the pink little membranes that squirmed disgustingly. “You think those things are cute?!” He whisper shouted he was flabbergasted on how you could such a thing to be anything but gross. But the way you nodded and stepped closer made his heart leap out of his ass.

“They are adorable!” You’d chime in quickly but quietly not to trigger any of them to attack “on my planet we keep creatures like these as pets….or we eat them!” Mark’s skin almost turned green at the idea of ever eating one of those things. “Maybe we should keep you at a distance from those” he’d chuckle cautiously as he watches you look at the pink beings with almost heart shaped eyes.

He almost has to tug you away with each carefully placed step you took towards the small creatures. And when the two of you find yourselves with your hands up surrounded by Martians who had clearly been in some kind of distress due to said pink creatures after you had basically shot it down from jumping on you, with that in mind the martians take you into their leader when you finally meet face to face with rage astronauts you and Mark were supposed to be watching and protecting.

After getting the run down on what exactly sequid’s were and what they do, Mark could clock the dark cloud looming over you at the deeply disturbing story. He had watched your once pouty smile slowly fall into a deeply disturbed frown and once he sees the look on your face he immediately feels the frown on his lips weighing down on his lips as well.

The Martian’s had practically disappeared from Mars due to the insurmountable amount of sequids had plagued the planet and had latched onto their kind before completely taking over the mind and body.

“I should have eaten them when we saw them” you mumbled to Mark and had it not been for the serious matter at hand he would’ve burst into laughter; but he had to be serious. “No eating” he says back and it makes you roll your eyes and slightly kick the flooring your very efficient plan being shot down.

“Tell me, how are you able to resist them” the Martian asked as he stands towering over the two of you and it leaves an uncomfortable pit in your stomach that makes you reach for the sleeve of Mark’s suit clutching slightly for some sort of comfort. “I come from the planet Tamaran” you answer quickly as Mark stutters slightly before dumbly answering “I’m part viltrumite; ever heard of us?” An impending and almost embarrassing silent beat passes by before he answers.

“I am the emperor of Mars, of course I’ve heard of you!” And that makes you step back slightly letting go of Mark’s sleeve so unaware that invincible belonged to an empire, to a race of people who didn’t have the greatest track record in space. “Well if you know us then you know; we like to help out wherever we can. Which is why; we were sent to help protect these astronauts” you could tell that even in costume; Invincible was just a boy at heart.

The slightly distressed look on his face as he tries to talk his way out of this. “So if your all good, we can finish our science and head home” he points towards the way you had came step back a few steps before the two men who had captured you blocked your paths. Your brows scrunch as an encroaching feeling of heat along your skin spikes. “Impossible! Human’s are sent to immediate execution!” The emperor shouts taking a step closer flickering between you and Mark.

“We cannot risk them coming into close counter with a sequid!” He urges in frustration you frown looking at your feet, you weren’t all too sure how Mark handled situations like these; but you knew for a fact that you were not a failure, you will not leave these people here to die, you will not die, and neither will invincible. You were sure of it. “I understand” you heard Mark say in an almost disappointed tone that makes your brow twitch.

He was onto something; brute force, maybe. But it was still something! And by the time you make it back to the surface hoards of martians had been chasing you through the thick clouds of dirt cloud your eyes you keep up and almost pass everyone before you yell over your shoulder you can see one of the human’s falling behind with a petrified face. “Flying sounds real efficient right now invincible!” You push yourself of the ground using the leverage to pick the woman up and a man before Mark follows behind you back into the ship.

As you and Mark try holding off the Martian’s as the smoke rises the two of you were practically clearing house until Mark had practically gotten tossed right under the ship. “You try and get that thing off the ground, I’ll hold them off. Can you do that?!” You ask over your shoulders as you feel anger growing in your stomach. Your eyes were glowing green and Mark didn’t know if he should be concerned or do what you say; regardless he would try.

He gets the ship up in the air in no time as he gets hit with the heated beams you could hear the pained grunts he let out making you return the favor, hearing the jets buzzing you take off towards the ship as you make your quickly awaited exit, you see Mark fly back down for a Rock that makes you laugh. “What’s that for?” You ask sitting on one of the wings. “Just thought I’d get something out of this whole ordeal” he shrugged holding the rock out to show you.

You tilt your head with a sad smile, Mark didn’t have to look at you, he could feel a sense of sadness lingering “it reminds me of the color Tamaran” you run a finger over the rock letting the dirt of mars stain your finger a burnt chalky orange. “Do you miss it?” He asks finally looking up at you with sympathy dripping from his words. “Sometimes…but i can’t go back” you swing your feet back and forth enjoying the lack of gravity with each moment.

He doesn’t say anything, at least not about why you can’t go back home; because he wasn’t there yet. He wanted to ask so many questions, but he’s too scared he’d overstep so he took the silent route instead. The two of you enjoyed the ride back home. It was better than awkwardly sitting together for hours.

Though when the two of you got back to Earth and checked in with Cecil it seemed he wanted the two of you to work together more often, keeping an eye on not just the two of you; but Mark’s own father. With the disappearance of the Guardians of the Globe and their unsuspecting deaths everyone searching for answers publicly and privately.

You had only met Omni-man in passing once or twice, not one for help or conversation you seemed to steer clear of him regardless of the fact that he was invincible’s father. When it all came spiraling down; Omni-man had officially lost it. Chicago was in ruins, people were trapped under collapsing buildings, cars and debris filling the streets.

Cecil had sent you out to do damage control as much as you could, the fight had ripped through subways, killed pilots and cracked a fucking mountain. When you had seen how much damage was done you were pissed. Nothing could have prepared Cecil for an angry alien basically standing over of him shouting. “You have to get this under control, he will kill him! You’re just sitting here watching it!” It was an outrage, how could he just stand there and watch like this was peak entertainment?

You had been so caught your own anger you hadn’t realized the woman who watched you with wide eyes on the brink of tears. “You know Mark?” She asks weakly and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest as you nod walking closer gently taking her hand into yours gently “Me and Mark went to Mars together. He was my first…friend on Earth” the word sounded weird falling from your lips but it felt like the right word.

“I’m so sorry this happening; I’ll see if can do anything to help Mark” squeezing her much smaller and weaker hand gently “I’ll do whatever I can” the gleam of hope flickering through her eyes makes you give a firm nod without saying anything else you look to the other workers amongst you watching Omni-man practically brutalized his own kin.

You took off towards the mountains, your body practically buzzing with heat and anger, your eyes and hands glowing and buzzing the closer you get to the fight- more like pummeling; but you had decided you were going to stand a fighting chance, and you were going to help Mark in anyway you can.

You understood that that the Guardians of the Globe was Earth’s protectors, and the track records Viltrumites had back on Tamaran Omni-man had a huge target on his back now. You’ve watched neighboring planets be destroyed and fallen victim to the empire you had so desperately prayed stayed far away from your home.

You were angry, these people, Mark; close to or already being dead- it pissed you off, how could you come to a planet like Earth and want to destroy it? Ruin the little peace it already holds? Every sharp turn, no matter how hard you pushed yourself to fly faster it still didn’t feel fast enough. You had grown to care for Mark since you’ve met, dealing with his small rants about some silly little earth cartoon on paper, or even sprinkles of him talking about school work.

So the moment you see Omni-man looming over the onyx haired boy whose face was practically swollen shut, blood covering his uniform. You could feel your insides churn at the sight, the bile sitting at the back of your throat, how your body tensed and fists tighten. You don’t hesitate to throw yourself into the mix; tackling the man off of his own son.

Thinking back; had you been human you’d had died. The brute force the two of you exchanged wasn’t much; but who could really beat a viltrumite who had been alive for centuries that had conquered planets and killed for strength? He had broken your arm and had finally flown off. Even with the sharp pain running through you in searing waves with every inch you moved, you still found yourself laying beside Mark’s feeble body checking if he was still alive; once you had fully recognized him as breathing and alive you had accepted exhaustion and passed out beside him.

And from then on you had an unwavering loyalty to Mark, going as far as to wheel your own IV around in the hospital to marks room and sit by his side watch trashy TV on mute because remotes still confused you, sometimes apologizing for not doing more, complaining about Cecil, just even eat dinner. Debbie had started to see your face way more often after the fallout of her family.

Even at times you had become very protective over him, going as far as to stand outside of his room and glare at Cecil for the poor job he was doing taking Mark under his wing. And eventually when Mark had woke up you two were glued at the hip. In return for helping him during his fight with his dad he’d help you emerge in Earth culture!

He teaches you about social media, slang, he at one point had to use parental controls in order for you to not accidentally call or text any of the numbers he gave you. You did break the first phone Cecil got you, you were very concerned when you got a call from Mark but couldn’t see him, his voice barely audible from how low your volume was making you shout into the line before ultimately throwing the phone out of stress.

He taught you how to make ‘Earth food’ though it was debatable on if it truly mattered what you ate because truly….you ate anything; and that kind of scared him. Having to explain why eating burnt toast or something that has been in the fridge for clearly too long was not something people on Earth do, he got an odd stare and a shrug before you reluctantly threw it away.

You do teach Mark about your planet, the history, the environment, how you were born into a planet where being warriors was normal; brutality was not frowned upon as much as it is on Earth. Though you have questioned him on why people don’t kill their enemies you had to have a serious discussion on why that isn’t exactly always okay.

Mark takes you to different countries, states and cities to show you how much fun Earth was; Breakfast in Paris and Dinner at Mark’s with Debbie with food from her favorite Mexican restaurant. The field trips were always great, he enjoyed watching the way your hands and eyes glow green when you got excited to experience new things.

Eventually when things start to get sour between Mark and Cecil especially after going through that rough patch with his dad, finding out about Oliver, and most of all Cecil not trusting Mark. Mark had been nothing but good! He could do no wrong in your eyes. The day Mark parted ways with Cecil you dipped in solidarity.

You help him train Oliver, you adore the small boy. Sometimes Mark comes to you for advice when he needs help with how much Oliver starts to pick up the ideologies of their father and how fast he’s even rapidly growing. You try your best to help make his work load less heavy. With the year he was having you don’t know he hasn’t found the time to lose his shit.

Mark appreciates you more than he has probably said it; feeling just slightly less alone because of the random alien that crashed into Earth like a meteor and just stuck around. Although you do have a slight innocence to you now; Mark looks back on his first encounter with you and can’t believe how nervous you made him when really you were in a way….kind of like him.

[zarilolll]

Father!Mark Grayson Headcanons

AN: woo! first post on tumblr, feeling kind of nervous…but i want to contribute something to the invincible fandom on here ^^ i apologize in advance if this is choppy.

WARNINGS:AFAB!Reader(but no use of pronouns), brief mentions of sex, pregnancy, fluff, not proofread, honesty can’t think of anymore on the top of my head

You and Mark had always practiced having safe sex. You both were young, but it took one time.

It’s been long, too long since he had his hands on you. Being in space without your warmth made his desire for you increase with each passing day. So the moment he flew through your bedroom window, he clung to you desperately. His soft whimpers filled the room as he kissed you, his tongue brushing against yours. You could sense his need for you. He didn’t need to speak, the way he ground his hips against your thighs told you everything you needed to know.

He reluctantly pulled back to catch his breath.

“Mmm…need you…need you so much, baby- please.”

And, whew! That was enough to make you toss your panties/boxers to the floor😮‍💨

Being caught up in the moment, the thought of using protection was long forgotten. Mark was too consumed by his desire, and you were too busy getting your brains fucked out to care. It wasn’t until those two red lines popped up that things began to settle in. You were pregnant, pregnant with his child.

Was absolutely nervous when he first found out about your pregnancy, but supportive. It wasn’t the fact that you both created life that startled him, no — it was the future. Being Invincible came with more downsides than ups. Part of him feared that your child would become a target for his enemies, that the GDA would find a way to get to them when they’re older and exploit them.

So I imagine him becoming more protective than usual.

Took fatherhood seriously. Like I mean really seriously…Way before the baby was born, he signed you both up for parenting classes. Which he tried his hardest to attend whenever Cecil wasn’t yapping in his ear piece.

“Yeah, yeah…another flaxan invasion. Let’s make this quick.”

Whenever Mark did need to leave for missions, he left you with Debbie. (who was more than happy to spend time with her in law) He didn’t want to leave you alone for too long. And who wouldn’t want to spend time with his mother? That woman has a kind soul🥹 She often gave you tips and tricks to make your pregnancy easier. And you got see Oliver too!

His whole world turned upside down when the baby was born. You gave birth to a beautiful girl! (sorry Mark is a girl dad in every universe — I didn’t make the rules/j)

She had his brown eyes and your nose — his heart melted when she reached out for him. He fell in love immediately.

Calls her: “sweetheart”, “gorgeous”, “princess” (treats her like one too)

Insisted on covering the night shifts. You just brought her into the world, so you deserve to rest.

He could be getting home late from work and he’d still do it. Mark spends most of his nights in the nursery, sitting on a rocking chair with your daughter cradled close to his chest. He’d tell the baby about his day, about the monsters he had to fight. She may be too young to understand what he’s saying, but he didn’t care. Just having her close and hearing her coo in her sleep was enough for him.

…And he’d tell her what an amazing person you are.

“You’ve got one of the best parents around. Don’t give them too much trouble, alright?”

“Your Mama/Papa is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

“Look at how cute you are! Looking just like them…”

“…Where would I be without you both?”

“How did I get so lucky?”

Will often read his comics to her. Mark’s dead set on making her a Seance Dog fan like him.

One morning, you walked in and saw them sleeping on the rocking chair. Your precious girl was still on his chest, her drool staining his t-shirt, and his book long forgotten on the floor.

Keeps every milestone documented. His photo library is full of pictures and videos. (that he proudly flexes to his coworkers)

If he misses anything, he’ll be distraught. She tried taking her first steps when he wasn’t around and he sobbed 😭

Will learn how to do hair just for her. He ended up giving her uneven little pigtails that look like antennas 💀 Don’t laugh…he’s trying.

Doesn’t play about quality time. Mainly because he wants them to have a relationship better than his and Nolan’s. She wants to play with dolls? Mark is joining and using his “girl” voice. (he ends up getting really into the dramatic plot they made)

“And I saw her with Tyler last week!”

“*GASP* Girl, no you didn’t!”

Tea party? He’ll act all sophisticated and try to squeeze into whatever tight polyester dress she gave him. She wants to do his makeup? He’ll suck up his pride and let her coat his lips with bright red lipstick.

Every drawing is hung up on the fridge.

She got her hands on one of his collectibles and broke it. Though Mark reassured her that it was okay, you saw that a part of him broke on the inside.

Since then, he spoils her with toys. Got to put that paycheck to good use somehow…and to keep her grubby hands off of his things.

Cannot discipline her, that lil girl has him wrapped around her finger😭 If he sees that she’s about to cry, he’ll fold. How can he be mad when she gives him those puppy dog eyes? You did get on him about this, though.

Has you both as his wallpaper. He likes to stare at it, it reminds him of what he’s fighting for.

Does that stupid hand thing on road trips💀 She could be minding her business, munching away on some trail mix and he’s reaching back for some

(LIKE OUUU GET YOUR OWN SNACKS)

She makes a face before sharing…because I know I would. His greed sickens me.

Whenever she has a nightmare, Mark takes her out flying to get her mind off of things. He’ll hold her close, pointing out different buildings and the stars.

Would protect her from anything, and I mean anything. Villains, Viltrumites, and even the imaginary monsters that hid in her closet — he’s fending them off. Made it clear to Cecil that he doesn’t want him anywhere near her. Her head doesn’t need to be filled with government bullshit.

At the end of the day, Mark just wants her to have a better childhood than he did. She deserved to enjoy her youth before the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

AHHHH FIRST POST DONE! i hope you all enjoyed it^^ i honestly had fun writing this out. thoughts and questions are welcome.

[0bticeo]

mark grayson | love me like an innocent (and hold me tight)

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

tw. viltrum!mark, mild blood and gore (it's the invincible show, c'mon), *gasp* hand holding, forehead kisses, reader playing with mark's hair. diabetes inducing amounts of fluff, mark being touch starvedTM. reference to this post.

in another universe, mark grayson is kind, softened by the tender touch of his mother. they call him invincible and his name means hope. there’s something like a boyish lilt to his grin. 

the mark grayson you know pulled you out of the rubble he buried you in, bloodied hand tight around your neck, and left you choking on his ultimatum. follow him or die.

and you were tired of cecil’s no-nonsense, find-a-way-to-beat-these-fuckers stare. tired of playing hero for a bunch of ungrateful scumbags, of ceaselessly bloodying your hands. crime is the many-headed hydra. it will never die. you will. 

you took mark’s hand and buried yourself in his arms. earth burned. 

the flames have settled, the only remaining source of heat being mark’s body, slotted against yours. markus sebastian grayson, clad in the cold colours of viltrum, white and gray molding him into a perfect picture of stoicism. you think of marble. glacial. haughty. 

he’s been… hovering, lately. lingering just out of the corner of your eyes, when the only thing you can catch a glimpse of is the lithe silhouette of him, all sharp angles and cold, eyes colder than the winter soil when frost bites and crops wither. you wonder if he trusts you. if he’s watching you, waiting for the inevitable slip up. 

(you hear the viltrumite talk among themselves. they are not kind - their kin never is. general kregg’s words are cutting. you were once earth’s best defender, with the weight of the sun bearing on your shoulders, liquid fire coursing through your veins. supernova, he mocks. do you really think of yourself as one of us?)

so here you are, on a viltrumite ship, arms crossed as you face the vastness of space. it’s cold, the void of it nipping at your skin despite your powers. you let out a heavy sigh. 

earth orbits before you. you hope it’s worth it, its desolation. the slaughter of the weak. you remember cecil’s gaze as you towered over the pentagon, clad in viltrumite colours. the fear. the betrayal. the knowledge that whatever failsafe he planned against you, to keep you contained, was not enough. the smell of his burnt flesh didn’t make your stomach churn.

a noise. a door sliding open, then shut. viltrumites abhor walking. there are no footsteps to recognise people by here. but there is only one person who comes and goes by the stark room they call your quarters. 

he comes to you with bloodied hands and heavy silence, the weight of it blanketing your shoulders. you do not know if you hate him for what he’s made you do. 

(you remember the regent emperor thragg standing before you and asking to prove yourself to the empire. you remember mark suggesting you lay waste on the pentagon, voice detached. you remember burning the GDA to the ground. self immolation at its peak.)

you see him, his reflection next to you, blood splattering his uniform, his cheeks, his hair. he does not speak. stands a mere few inches away from you. he’s warm, you think, you know, you feel. warm enough that you wonder why he burns, what is burning him. 

hesitantly, you brush your fingers against his. he stiffens, shoulders tensing in the prelude to viltrumite ultraviolence. you freeze, make a move to pull away. his fingers curl around yours, wrap tight and pull. 

your breath hitches, head resting on the angel wing of his collarbone, one you’ve traced the contours of one desperate, desperate night three months ago. you, mark, and so much grief you wanted to drown in it. you had never felt that cold in your life. mark had pulled you close, mouth feverish on yours, thumb smearing blood away from the corner of your lip. you’d melted. 

you’ve learned, then, panting and breathless in the wreckage left of the pentagon, hellfire burning, that viltrumites fuck like they fight. it wasn’t soft, the way mark took you and made you his own, it never was. you don’t think you’d want it any other way. you remember the way he looked at you when you cupped his cheek, the way he flinched when your skin touched his own, impossibly soft. he’s never known anything but his father’s fist.

three months later, and you’re a betrayer to your kin, lone human in a viltrumite ship. and one of their strongest warriors has his hands resting on your hips, thumbs brushing hesitantly over the thick material over your uniform, seeking, seeking. you do not understand why he’s drinking you in like he’s been starving for it, like he can only breathe when you’re around. why now? something like a low, broken little noise echoes in your ear. your eyes widen.

“mark? what’s wrong?”

you turn to face him, hand coming up to cradle his cheek. his breath hitches. you watch as he leans into your touch, the sharp angle of his cheek pressing against your palm. it feels like something is clicking. you meet his gaze. gone is the glacier edge to his eyes. they’re soft. infinitely soft, gazing at you as though you’re holding the universe in the palm of your hand. your heart skips a beat. then another.

something like a soft blush dusts his cheekbones, and you watch, bewildered, as he nuzzles your hand, a stray lock of hair brushing your knuckles. 

“mark?” you breathe. 

he glances away, fingers curling around your wrist. a shuddering breath escapes him, warm on your pulse. he feels it, the way your blood jumps under your skin, fluttering softly under his fingertips. you push away his hair from his face, comb the thick dark locks behind his ear. it’s gotten bloody again.

another soft noise.

“keep- keep doing that.”

“what?”

he nuzzles your hand, grip on your hip growing impossibly tighter.

“touching my hair,” he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck, blood and gore and viscera now clinging to you both.

you tut a little and gently push him away, eyeing the mess he’s made. blood drips down from his trembling fists to the floor, drip drip dripping red. your fingers lace with his.

“let’s get us cleaned up, yeah?”

blood drips down the shower. lately, it feels as though the only colours you’ve known are white, grey and red. so much red. too much red- 

mark’s hand cups your cheek. trembling. hesitant. like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he doesn’t, you realise. not with the way viltrumites are, war-bent, destruction-borne. he’s trying. for you. your heart swells in your chest and you smile at him.

“hey.”

his lips curl in a rare smile, chasing the touch of your hands as they busy themselves in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. he’s practically purring under your touch, leaning down to give you better access.

“hey.”

you brush his split knuckles, the bruises blooming over his ribs, the deep gash above his adonis belt, already healing, reduced to a faint, pink line. he doesn’t flinch. only pulls you closer, chin on top of your head. you have to push him away to avoid getting soapy water in your eyes.

“who was the unlucky guy?”

“spawn.”

one of earth’s strongest. one of your colleagues. one of your frien- 

you sigh. inhale, exhale, until the only things that exist are you, mark, and the scalding stream of water trickling down on your skin. until mark pulls you out of the shower and lays you down in bed, barely dry, his head resting on your chest.

you’ve betrayed everything and everyone the moment your heart started beating for him. but here, with the way his lips curl into a half-smile, with the way he trails soft patterns over the small scar on your hip bone, your guilt eases.

“can you… can you play with my hair?” he whispers, burrowing himself in your chest.

you think he wants to crawl in it. make himself at home between your ribs, nestle against your heart and rest his weary head on it.

“yeah.”

in another universe, mark grayson is born soft and cradled by his mother’s warmth. in this universe, debbie grayson is dead, and all the love he ever knew was violence. he’s all sharp edges and cold gazes and bloodied fists, more weapon than human. 

yet, in the quiet of your room, he softens against you, guard lowered enough to let you press your lips to the crown of his hair. 

“let me love you,” you murmur.

he looks up at you, chin on your chest, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them.

“rotten, useless work.”

you press your lips to his.

“not to me.”

(taking the liberty to tag a few ppl, as you guys seemed interested by poor lil mew mew viltrum mark: @gaiasmight @linkwho1 )

[suigenerisisadiva]

Between Worlds, Between Us - Mark Grayson x Batsis!reader

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Batsis!Reader + Batfam x Batsis!Reader

Summary: After an engineering failure on behalf of Cecil, he crash-landed into Gotham, the city of crime, corruption and a cauldron of Bat(themed-vigilantes)s, the most intriguing of them all being you. You patched him up, insulted his flying, and disappeared.

Neither of you expected to flirt mid-fight, or work well together, or think about it afterward. No names. No identities. Just quick banter, bruised knuckles, and the kind of tension that makes your brothers suspicious.

He thinks you’re mysterious. You think he’s kind of hot when he’s not crashing into buildings. You both think it’s definitely a one-time thing.

Spoiler: it’s not.

He might be Invincible. But you’re inevitable. Part 2 is here!

Content warnings: Swearing, teasing, violence, mentions of bloodA/N: I love Invincible guys

The night was wet and thick with neon haze—exactly the kind of night Gotham liked to dress up in. Rooftops slick. Sirens bouncing off alleyways. Somewhere, someone screamed, which was pretty standard at this point.

You crouched at the edge of the parking garage roof, boots planted steady, watching the idiot in the sky.

He wasn’t a Gotham name. Not one of yours.

Bright blue. Golden-yellow. Hair whipping in the wind as if he thought it looked cool.

He hovered awkwardly over the warehouse below, scanning too slowly, too openly. You could see the hesitation in his posture. like he wasn’t used to the air here. Like he’d just realised Gotham didn’t have air. Just smoke, gunpowder, and judgement.

You pressed a finger to your comm.

“Oracle, Gotham's got a flier, clad in blue and yellow. New guy.”

“Confirmed. Invincible. Cross-dimensional. Vouched by Cecil Stedman of the GDA. Try not to hurt him.”

“No promises.”

You cut the comm and rose silently.

Let’s see how “Invincible” he really is.

You dropped behind him with the grace of a threat. The quiet sound of your boots on concrete made him spin in the air, startled.

His eyes landed on you, dark armour, blank expression, the bat crest clear and quiet across your chest. You didn’t speak.

You didn’t have to.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re—uh—one of them.”

You tilted your head. “One of?”

“The Bat people. The... scowl-and-vanish crew.” He chuckled sheepishly, hand on the back of his neck, an adorable gesture.

You blinked. Then smirked. Just barely.

“And you’re the one wrecking Gotham’s skyline like it’s a tourist attraction.” You said, sass laced in your sultry tone.

“Guilty,” he said, holding up both hands. “In my defence, I only knocked over, like, one smokestack. And that building was already leaning.”

“And the gang you chased into it?”

“Still conscious. Mostly.”

You paced slowly toward the ledge, watching the warehouse below. He floated closer to hover beside you, arms folded, you took a note of how his suit clung to his frame, the yellow fore-arm guards highlighting the contours of the muscle. (Sorry guys I think I like men with massive arms it's just really hot imo , comment if you agree)

“You’ve got a name?” you asked, not looking at him.

“Invincible.” He spoke, sounding very vincible whilst saying it, like his name was a foreign concept.

You glanced sideways.

“That’s a bold thing to name yourself.”

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly conscious. “Bit much. Wasn’t my idea.”

You hummed.

“And you are?” he asked, almost teasing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“...Yeah,” he said, and that grin flickered across his mouth again. “I would.”

You looked at him properly this time. Up close, he wasn’t what you expected. Not just the usual flyboy muscles and cocky attitude. There was something thoughtful in the way he held himself, almost like he was still getting used to his own strength. Like he’d been hit more than once and still hadn’t decided if he liked it.

He was… kinda cute.

Unfortunately.

You dropped off the roof without another word. He followed.

You fought together for ten minutes in a graffiti-abused hallway. He took a hit for you. You knocked someone out before he could thank you. You both leaned against opposite walls, breathing hard, grinning through the blood.

“Nice moves,” he said.

“You’re not bad for a flying hammer.”

“So…. can I get your number?”

You looked him up and down. Still catching your breath. Still smiling, but not saying why.

“Ask me again after you learn to land without blowing out someone’s windows.”

“That’s gonna take a while.”

“Then we’ve got time.”

You threw a smoke pellet and vanished. Classic.

Mark coughed. He was still smiling when the smoke cleared.

Back at the Batcave

Jason was the first to bring it up.

“She’s smiling again. That’s suspicious.”

Tim looked up from his screen. “She always smiles after punching someone.”

“No,” said Dick, arms folded. “This is different. This is... rooftop flirtation energy. Bat-and-Cat style.”

They all turned when you walked in, still peeling off your gloves, damp from the rain, bruise blooming beneath your jaw.

“You meet the alien?” Dick asked.

“Maybe.”

“You like him?” He pried, tone curious and inquisitive.

“Don’t be weird Dickhead” You shot back.

Jason leaned closer, squinting. “You’re humming.”

“No, I’m not.” You responded, smiling behind your words.

“You only hum when you like someone or you’ve just committed a felony.”

“...Maybe I did both.” You shot your famous million-dollar smile/

They all groaned.

You walked past them with a smirk.

In another world, Mark Grayson lay in bed that night, staring at his ceiling.

“I have no idea who she is,” he told Rex over the phone. “But I think she’s the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

"Ugh, Mark you cheesy nerd." Rex chided, secretly happy his close friend had prospects of finding huzz.

He didn’t know your name.

But he’d remember your smile.

And the way it felt to orbit your gravity.

And he realised...

He realised he actually liked it.

Hope you all enjoyed this! Likes, comments, reblogs and requests are highly appreciated! Requests are open!

Sources! -

Dividers - @omi-resources

Icon Header - @parkons

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