radlovesfics

[radlovesfics]

Smut and fluff with marvel rivals iron fist (lin Lie) x fem superhero reader, please and thank you ❤️

I uh... went a lil crazy on this one LOL

我的月亮 (Wǒ de Yuèliàng)

Iron Fist x Fem!Superhero!Reader

Description: What better way to recover after a grueling fight with Chīyóu's demon army than a dip in a hot spring?

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), brief combat, cursing, vaginal sex, standing sex, sex in a hot spring, reader has a moment of self-consciousness, lots of fluff and comfort, super lovey-dovey

A/N: Fun fact about me: I took Mandarin as a second language starting in middle school. I don't remember much of it (though I can ask you if there's a bathroom somewhere or when your birthday is), but it was really fun going back and recognizing things like words or grammar. I was basically the Chinese equivalent of a weeb in my younger years so this was a major throwback LOL

Word Count: 4.7k

Relationships between superheroes was… not something most would recommend. Passionate at best, and tumultuous and unpredictable at worst. You might go for weeks, months, without seeing one another, and it was a death sentence to allow that gnawing worry over the other’s safety to take hold of you.

It’s why you were so eager to be sent on a mission in Yúnnán Shěng. It was Iron Fist’s mission, to be fair, but your ability to fly would help give him the extra edge he needed, so he was quick to request your assistance. You spot him as you soar over the bustling tourist city of Kūnmíng, crouched on top of the spire of a lone temple. It’s quieter here, with the sound of chirping insects and wind ruffling the leaves of bamboo stalks the only things to pierce the relative silence of the night.

“There you are, wǒ de yuèliàng,” he greets you as you come to hover by his side. Your heart flutters and you blush at the nickname he’s given you. My moon. 

“You know I will always come when you need me, Iron Fist.” It almost pains you to call him by his hero name, but you knew just as well as any superhero that it was always better to be safe in public even if you seem to be alone.

He smiles gratefully, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know. Doesn’t change how happy it always makes me to see you, though.”

You flash him a brilliant smile in turn. “Perhaps we could take advantage of the scenery once our mission is over?” you suggest, batting your eyelashes at him and giving him pleading eyes.

He snorts a playful laugh at your display before tugging your floating form towards him for a quick kiss. “Let’s see how things go first. I’d hate to get you all excited for a hike only to have to carry you the whole way,” he teases with a cocky grin before brushing his nose against yours affectionately. You stick your tongue out at him in response and blow him a raspberry, which he quickly pulls back to avoid as he wipes the spray of spittle from his face. “Hey! I’m only kidding!” he protests with a jovial laugh.

With your hands on your hips, you cock your head to one side and quirk a brow. “If anyone’s gonna end up being carried, it would be you, you know. I can fly, after all.”

His laughter dies down, and he regards you with the softest hint of concern in his eyes before they flicker down to watch as he wrings his wrists together. “Well, let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that at all, okay?” His gaze meets yours once more, and you can see the worry that crinkles between his brows. “I’d rather not see you get hurt at all.”

Your expression softens, and you place a comforting hand on one of his broad shoulders. “I know, wǒ de lòng.” The gentleness of your voice soothes him, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. My dragon.

“Your pronunciation has gotten better,” he compliments before reaching out and caressing your cheek.

“I had a pretty good teacher,” you respond with a cheeky smile that he’s quick to mirror.

Your tender moment is broken by a monstrous roar in the distance followed by devastating crashes and screams. Both of you snap your heads towards the source of the sound. Whatever it was, it was big. 

“What did you say we were fighting again!?” you exclaim even as you whip behind him and hook your arms around him, lifting you both into the air. Shockwaves nearly throw you off course as this monster continues its rampage, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. You inhale deeply before propelling the two of you like an arrow straight through the wind currents that dare to fight your trajectory.

“Demons,” he responds, his voice straining to be heard over the roaring winds. “But it looks like Chīyóu isn't playing around this time.”

“Does he ever?” you groan.

Closing in on your target, you can really see just how ugly this thing is. Gigantic, vaguely humanoid, with decaying skin stretched taut across its emaciated skeleton, it roars into the air before pummeling its scythe-like arms into the ground below. It doesn't seem to care about the smaller demons that flock beneath it, destroying foe and ally alike.

“How did it get to be so massive!?” you shout in disbelief. You'd been unfortunate enough to see Chīyóu's army in the past, but they usually looked more like the infantry below.

“Don’t know, don't care. At least, not until I pummel this thing into the earth!” he replies confidently. “Take care of the small fry, would you? I've got the big one.”

You know better than to protest. He is the stronger out of both of you, and your airborne agility would give you enough of an edge to dodge any stray swings from the big guy while you take care of your foes.

“Okay. I trust you… but come back safe,” you urge before soaring up high enough to launch him at his target. He climbs up the demon's large frame with ease, running up his torso before laying into him with blow after blow straight to the face. You can’t help but smirk as you hear it cry out in pain even as you propel yourself back down towards your smaller enemies.

“Alright… who wants to go first…?” you taunt as energy crackles in your palms.

-----

Not surprisingly, you're done with your fight long before Iron Fist has finished his. You desperately want to help, but you weren't unscathed, panting heavily as you hover nearby. It had taken more out of you than you'd expected; they were far more coordinated than they should have been. Thankfully, your injuries were limited. You were simply exhausted, forced to use your power beyond your normal limits to keep up with each and every demon that launched and swiped at you. 

Iron Fist seemed to be doing fine. It was simply a very tough fight, but it was one he was slowly winning. You felt the energy pulsating off of him as he summoned the blade shards from his fists, and the demon cried out in agony as his punches grew faster, deadlier. It wouldn't be much longer now. Suddenly you hear a loud and sickening crack!, and slowly, stumbling, the demon lets out a final, guttural groan before plummeting to the earth. Iron Fist wears a triumphant grin, and you begin to fly towards him to catch him before he joins the demon's descent.

He lands into you with an “oof!” as you steady him, hugging him tightly with your arms wrapped around his chest. “See? Not a problem at a--!”

But your victory is interrupted by the sudden shockwave caused by the demon's body collapsing to the ground. You're too exhausted to react in time, and it sends both of you hurtling through the air as you let out a startled cry. The force of it knocks you miles away, holding on tight to one another and spinning towards an unknown destination. You begin spiraling towards the ground, trying and failing desperately to stop your momentum, and panic rises in your chest.

“Y/N!? We're gonna crash!”

“I know!” you snap back. “I'm trying!”

You're pretty sure your life is beginning to flash before your eyes as the rocky mountainside gets closer and closer. Frantically, you pour all of your willpower into the energy pooled within you, using whatever you have left and centering it so it coalesces at the soles of your boots. It’s just enough to generate a bit of friction, and finally you find yourself slowing before touching down safely on the ground.

Wide-eyed and shaky, you nearly collapse before Iron Fist catches you and helps you stay upright. Even under his mask you can see the way his brow creases with worry.

“Th-that was… that was close,” you stammer out. “S-sorry.”

Seemingly a little less disoriented, he chuckles. Once he’s sure you can stand on your own, he cradles your face in his hands, and those brown eyes gaze warmly into your own. “Hey, we’re alive. That’s what matters.”

A trembling titter passes through your teeth, and you shut your eyes and lean into his touch. After a long sigh, you nod. In the silence that follows, a soft, distant trickling sound catches your ear, and your eyelids flutter open to find its source. Liè hears it as well, and a knowing smile draws upon his lips.

“So, about that sightseeing you wanted to do…” he begins, and you give him a curious look. He’s up to something, but you have no idea what it could be.

“I don’t think I’m in any state to be sightseeing right now--”

He puts a finger to your lips and you hush immediately, feeling your cheeks warm in response. His hands fall from your face before he suddenly scoops you up into his arms, bringing a startled yelp from you before he begins bounding down the mountain.

“H-hey! What are you--!?”

But as he carries you over the rounded stones and lush foliage towards the base of the mountain, that trickling sound grows louder, and you gasp as the leaves part to reveal a hot spring bathed in the light of the full moon. Even at its edge you can feel the humid warmth of the steam seeping into your weary body.

“Ever bathed in a hot spring before?” he hums, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down your body as he holds you.

“No, I can’t say I have,” you respond honestly, feeling a heat born from something other than the nearby steam.

He lowers you to the ground gently before taking a few steps forward with his back facing you. His fingers get to work unwrapping the yellow bandages coiled around his arms, letting them flutter down like ribbons onto the stone beneath you. Next, he unties his mask, discarding it in a similar fashion, and then you hear the clinking of his belts before the thud of leather hits the ground.

“Liè…?” you whisper, not trusting your voice fully as he continues to undress before you. He merely turns his head towards you and smirks, and with a rustling of fabric he stands shirtless before you. Moonlight glistens and illuminates his defined muscles, rippling with every movement he makes, and your breath catches in your throat.

“People don’t typically bathe with their clothes on,” he teases, making it sound like the most obvious explanation in the world for him stripping so sensually in front of you. When you still don’t seem to make any sort of move, he turns to face you. The two of you had never… well, you’ve never even seen him shirtless like this before. You try not to let your gaze linger overlong at his broad chest or travel down too low to see the V of his hip bones disappear beneath his trousers--

The pad of his index finger finds your chin and lifts your head to look at him. “My eyes are up here, yuèliàng,” he chides with a snicker. Though, his own eyes find themselves flickering down to your lips.

“You’re so unfair,” you accuse with a breathy laugh.

“Says the one still fully clothed,” he retorts with a purr as his arm wraps around your waist.

You brace a hand against his bare chest, reveling in the warmth of his skin as your tongue wets your bottom lip. “I didn’t realize it was a race,” you tease. Self-consciousness floods your thoughts at the realization of what was happening, and unwittingly your fingers tense against him. Concern softens his expression, and the hand at your chin caresses your cheek.

“Y/N…?” He smiles tenderly. “Are you nervous?”

Your eyes flicker back up to his. “I’ve just… you and I, we’ve never…” Unable to find the words, your voice trails off, fading into the sounds of the bubbling spring. “What if I’m not…?”

“Not what?” he inquires, searching your eyes for the answer you seem unable to give him. The hand at your waist rubs soothing circles into the small of your back.

It grows more difficult to maintain eye contact, so you find yourself staring instead at where your fingers rest upon his skin. “Not… not good enough? Pretty enough? I don’t know…”

“Wǒ de yuèliàng…” he murmurs softly, shaking his head and embracing you into an almost smothering hug. “Zài wǒ xīnzhōng nǐ shì rúcǐ měilì. Nǐ hěn wánměi.” His breath whispers against your hair as he buries his nose into it. Your Chinese is limited, but you don’t have to understand much of it to know what he’s trying to tell you. Beautiful. Perfect. It wrenches at your heart. You’re misty-eyed when he pulls away, resting his hands on your shoulders. “But if you’re not ready--”

You silence him with your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands slide down your sides and rest at your hips, and strong fingers grip you tightly. When you pull away, he regards you with hooded eyes and parted lips.

“I… I’m ready,” you breathe out. “But… do you mind turning around while I undress?”

Liè chuckles but nods wordlessly, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your forehead. He turns back towards the hot springs, shimmying out of his boots and pants and giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his toned ass before he disappears beneath the spring's waters.

You take a deep breath before divesting yourself of your superhero suit, fumbling a bit with the buckles and zippers. Your hands are trembling with nerves when you hook your thumbs into your panties and drag them down your thighs. If only you could see Liè's face; his skin is flushed, and his eyes are squeezed shut to help him resist the temptation to sneak a peek at you. He's just better at masking his nerves than you are.

Steeling your resolve, you exhale shakily. “Okay, I… you can turn around now.”

The water sloshes with how quickly he moves, and despite the humidity of the hot springs, he grows parched at the sight of you. Your arms and hands drape demurely over your breasts and between your legs, and you look away shyly under the intensity of his stare. The moonlight bathes your skin in its silvery splendor, and the trees behind you seem to almost bend around you and frame you perfectly in their lush foliage. 

“Wow…” he breathes quietly, at a loss for any other words. He steps towards you, making his way to shallower waters as his chest and hips reemerge in a cascade of water droplets, seemingly unperturbed by his own nudity. His cheeks turn a deep pink as he drinks you in. “Nǐ hěn wánměi.” You are perfect. He brings his hands up to cradle your face and stare deeply into your eyes. They're warm, wet from the spring, and the feeling is oddly grounding while droplets trickle down your cheeks. Slowly, your arms fall to your sides. You bat your eyelashes at him with the tiniest of smiles. 

“You're one to talk,” you tease, your gaze flickering back down as your fingertip traces along his collarbone and follows the contours of his pectoral muscles.

The ego boost brings a cheeky grin to his lips, but he doesn't indulge it further. Instead, he brings your faces closer together and kisses you deeply, hungrily, groaning when his hands begin to wander. They tangle in your hair, wrap tightly around your back, grip at your waist… he's determined to feel every inch of you, and quickly the fire within you urges you to do the same to him. A surprised squeak sounds in your throat when he grabs your ass, kneading the plush of your skin in his palm.

“Liè!” you gasp as his lips press at the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, and finally nipping and sucking at the column of your neck. He lifts you by your rear, earning a giggle from you before you wrap your legs around him, and walks you back into the water to envelop you both in its steamy embrace. His arousal rests hard and hot against your stomach, and desire replaces any remaining reservations you had. All you could think about now was him, of his skin on yours, his lips hot and wet on your neck, his broad shoulders beneath your fingertips. 

With the water to help support your weight, he holds you against him with one hand as the other trails back over your ribcage, resting beneath your breast before cupping it and squeezing gently. Breathy moans slip from your lips and grow louder as he leans down and takes the stiff peak into his mouth. His tongue flicks up and down over the sensitive bud.

“Yes, oh…”

He hums against your skin, gazing up at your face with blown pupils. Every expression, every melody you sing because of him, is intoxicating.

“Mm… how did I get so lucky?” he muses while pressing tender kisses in the valley of your breasts. “To have such a beautiful, strong woman in my arms, singing me her praises…” He adjusts his hold on you, sliding you down just a bit and bringing you face to face again. The water laps soothingly against your bare skin. Your eyes flutter closed when the backs of his fingers brush gingerly along your cheekbone.

“I hear being the Immortal Iron Fist helps one's chances,” you giggle, and he scoffs in mock offense. Your smile widens and you press your forehead to his. “But being Liè, my dragon, my…” You choke on your words for a moment, but only a moment.

“My love…” 

You feel your face heat up at your own words, but they were words long coming. “... that's all it takes. All I've ever wanted.”

“Yuèliàng,” he exhales sharply, the term of endearment a reverent hiss upon his lips. Those same lips crash upon yours once more, and your arms wrap eagerly about his neck. His brow furrows, and between kisses he whispers those sweet words. “Wǒ ài nǐ.”

You grip the black hair at the nape of his neck tightly, but not nearly so tight as the hold this man has over your pounding heart. Your mouth slants over his, kissing him deeper, delving your tongue between the seam of his lips. He meets your efforts eagerly, curving over you as your back arches and your chest presses against him. One hand finds the small of your back to draw you impossibly closer. When he pulls away from your devouring kiss, you're both panting for air. 

“Let me make love to you,” he begs breathlessly. His nose nudges yours affectionately and his brow creases. “Please.”

Never in a million years would you say no to that. You kiss him tenderly before nodding softly. “I want you, Liè. All of you.”

He groans and rolls his hips, his evident desire sliding along your heat and drawing a gasp from your lips. You were no virgin, but he was thick, and your mind was long gone with fantasies of how he would feel inside of you. Not that you would have to wait long for those fantasies to become reality, of course; he peppers your face and neck with kisses while he continues to grind against you. His hand reaches down for a handful of your ass, guiding your hips as you join him in the search for that delicious friction. The hot spring water only makes your movements easier, and on more than one occasion he nearly slips right in. When the bulbous head presses up against your clit, you whimper and your thighs tremble, and you can feel yourself growing wetter even without the spring's help.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. He holds you still, and you brace your hands on his shoulders while he begins deliberately guiding the head of his cock up and down your slit. Your hot, slickened folds are too inviting to resist, and slowly, torturously and slowly, he sinks the tip into your heat. You steady your breathing and force yourself to relax the tension in your body at the sudden intrusion. His hips rock into yours, finding it hard to breathe himself as he stretches you out inch by inch.

“Liè, oh gods--” you hiss before your jaw goes slack with a moan. He’s sheathed himself in you completely, and you've never felt quite so full. He stills inside you instantly as worry etches his features.

“Are… are you okay?” he stammers out, tenderly cupping your cheek. It’s obviously difficult for him to keep himself from rutting into you like a wild animal, and you feel his cock twitch impatiently while your walls clench around him.

“I-I’m fine,” you breathe out. “You're just, um… shit… you're so big…”

His concern fades instantly and is replaced with a cocky grin much more becoming of his handsome face. A groan of approval growls in his throat and he’s grinding into you again, the water splashing gently with the movement, angling his cock back and forth with shallow thrusts.

“Is that so…?” he muses coyly. His thumb traces your bottom lip. “I hope that won’t be an issue.”

You keen as every move he makes leaves his cock dragging languidly back and forth against that perfect spot. “N-no, I--”

He interrupts you by taking your lip between his teeth and tugging on it softly. A staggered breath whispers from you.

“Good,” he purrs. He sucks on your bottom lip before darting his tongue out, inviting you to part your lips and let him in. A devouring groan hums and vibrates from him into the kiss. Your tongues dance sensually, feverishly, and he starts thrusting into you with renewed vigor. Shutting your eyes tight, you tangle your fingers in his short black hair, and your high pitched whimpers pour into the kiss.

It's easy to forget the battle you had fought not even an hour ago. It certainly doesn't feel like he was fighting for his life against a demon twenty times his size. His seemingly endless stamina ripples through bulging muscles to help him piston in and out of you. His movements favor precision over speed, deliberately drawing back and making sure you feel every inch before he slams back into you.

You're so lost in pleasure, but when he pulls away and stares into your eyes your breath hitches in your throat. There's so much adoration in those brown eyes, so much love and affection reserved for you and you alone. Your hands draw back to cup his face gingerly while he bounces you up and down.

“Liè…” you breathe softly. He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm.

Half-lidded eyes blink slowly, lovingly at you. “You feel perfect,” he praises. 

“Mm…” you moan with a dreamy smile, “More, Liè, please.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Can you hover in the water?”

You blink curiously at him. “I… yes, of course, but--”

“Just do it, trust me,” he states with a coy smirk. 

Your hands fall from his face to rest at your sides, and it takes a surprising amount of concentration to summon the energy to fly, even if you're just hovering in place. Whether it's due to exhaustion from the earlier battle or simply that he's fucking you so well… it's hard to say. After a few moments, he feels your weight lifting from his firm hold. His thrusts pause, and he huffs out a laugh when you whine at the loss of stimulation. 

“Keep your legs up like that. Hold onto my shoulders if you need to. Otherwise,” he pauses, cocking his head to the side and flashing you a cheeky smile, “...just remember that you asked for this, yuèliàng.”

You barely have time to ponder what he means by that before both of his hands grip you by the waist and his hips slam into yours. A soundless scream leaves your jaw agape as he pours every bit of his strength into his thrusts. Despite the roughness of it, you can feel the way your cunt squeezes him tighter, sucking him in every time his cock drags back out. Skin slaps against skin, and it takes every last bit of concentration and willpower you have to keep yourself aloft. The hot spring's waters splash and spray about with the frantic pace he sets, disturbing the peace of the night with the cacophonous symphony of your lovemaking. 

Now that he doesn't have to hold you up himself, one hand rests on your stomach as his thumb seeks out your clit. A shock of pleasure courses through your body that leaves your toes curling. Aided by your slick and the warm water, the digit glides effortlessly in circles, and soon he's timing it perfectly with every deep thrust of his length. You find your voice again even if all you can muster are broken moans. 

“F-f-hah-uh-ugh-uck!” you babble, each stammer coinciding with the hammering of his cock deep within you. It chisels away at all sense, leaving you raw and vulnerable but hotter and hotter. It burns and licks as the fires of pleasure spark brighter and more intense. Nails dig into his shoulders to keep you from wobbling mid-air.

“Shit,” he curses, hissing in pleasured pain at the feeling. “Gǎnjué zhēn dì nàme hǎo ma?” Does it really feel that good? His breathy teasing is accompanied by a confident smile even as he grits his teeth with the effort of fucking you. 

His tone tells you all you need to know even if you don't recognize all the words. The low, possessive growl in his voice leaves you a whimpering mess, and you feel yourself creeping closer and closer to the precipice.

“Liè, oh, f-fuck--!” you gasp. “Right there, yes!”

An airy chortle hums in his chest between grunts. “Nǐ zhēnměi.” He takes your breast in his palm before tweaking the bud between his fingertips, and he leans in to kiss and suck at your neck. The sensations overwhelm you as your moans and whimpers grow higher and higher in pitch. His movements are messy, more instinctive than deliberate, as he gets closer to his own release.

“Yes, yes, oh, yes--!”

He can’t help himself from biting down at the sensitive spot he’s discovered at the crook of your neck, and it has you seeing stars. You send him into a frenzy with your sweet song, a siren calling him and begging him to ravage you utterly and completely. And gods, does it feel better than anything you’ve ever felt. Your body feels like it’s floating even beyond the literal sense of your powers, cresting higher and higher and--

“Cum for me, yuèliàng.” His voice is right there at your ear, a low, seductive growl, and the cord within you finally snaps.

“Liè!” you scream, your body convulsing in a mind-shattering orgasm. His thrusts falter as he feels you clamp down and flutter around his cock. A broken groan cracks in his throat and he doubles his efforts, pistoning into you relentlessly as you cry and babble out moans from the overstimulation.

“F… Fuck, Y/N, I--shit!” He quickly pulls out of you before taking himself in hand, cursing and exhaling guttural moans as he strokes himself feverishly beneath the water’s surface. He maintains eye contact with you the entire time, drinking in your half-lidded expression. With a final string of huffs and grunts he cums with a cry of your name, emptying himself into the spring. His forehead falls against yours, out of breath, pulling you into his arms as the two of you come down from your high.

You slump back down into the water and allow yourself the comfort of his embrace. He starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to your lips, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, drawing giggles from you that bring a goofy smile to his face. The peace of the night returns, and the only sounds around you are the bubbling of the spring and the soft, chirping chorus of insects and amphibians about. Your heart feels full, warm, and your eyes find his as you gaze at him reverently.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His doe eyes soften before he gives you a deeper, more insistent kiss. “I love you too.”

[radlovesfics]

EVERY UNIVERSE — viltrumite! mark grayson x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: character death, death in childbirth, grief, delusion, kidnapping, obsession, forced role play, forced marriage, talks of having children, oral sex (fem receiving), sexual assault

MINORS DNI

Mark had fought wars. Conquered planets. Crushed civilizations beneath his fists.

But none of that had ever made his heart pound like this.

He knelt beside the bed, his fingers tightly interlocked with hers as she screamed through another contraction. His free hand pushed damp hair from her forehead, his chest aching at the sight of her tears, the strain in her face.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his voice barely steady. “Just a little more, okay?”

She didn’t answer, only squeezed his hand tighter. Hard enough that, if he were human, she might have broken something. But he wasn’t. And he wished more than anything that he could take her pain, bear it for her.

Another scream—then the sound of a baby’s first cry split the air.

Mark’s breath hitched.

The doctors moved quickly, cleaning the infant, wrapping him in soft cloth before carefully placing him in Mark’s arms. His son. His beautiful son.

His heart swelled, his chest so full he thought it might burst. He turned immediately, eager to share this moment with her. But then he saw her. Too still. Too pale. His smile faded. “Y/N?”

She blinked slowly, exhaustion weighing heavy on her. But then, she gave him the smallest, softest smile. “Remember,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, “I’ll love you in every universe.”

The monitors shrieked.

“Her heart rate’s dropping!”

“We’re losing her!”

“No—no, no, no—” Mark clutched her hand tighter, desperate, pleading. “Stay with me. Stay with me, please.”

Her fingers, so warm, so full of life just moments ago, slowly went limp. Mark watched helplessly as the light faded from her eyes. As her breath hitched, then stopped. A sound tore from his throat. A broken, wounded thing.

The doctors moved around him, shouting, working. But he already knew. She was gone. His love. His heart. His one weakness. Gone. The baby in his arms whimpered softly, unaware.

Mark barely breathed as he pressed his forehead to hers, his grip on her hand unrelenting, as if he could keep her here by sheer will alone. He had conquered galaxies. But he couldn’t save her. And something inside him shattered.

The nights were always the hardest. Mark sat in the dimly lit nursery, cradling his son against his chest. The baby had finally fallen asleep, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of Mark’s shirt, his breath warm and steady.

Mark exhaled, pressing a soft kiss to his son’s forehead. “You look like her,” he whispered.

It had been months. Months of waking up to an empty bed. Months of staring at the space beside him, hoping—praying—that maybe it had all been a nightmare. That she’d be there, smiling at him, telling him he was just being dramatic. But she wasn’t. She never would be. A knock at the window broke his thoughts.

Mark turned, already knowing who it was before he even saw him. Nolan. His father hovered just outside, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Mark sighed, carefully laying his son in his crib before stepping onto the balcony.

The cold night air bit at his skin, but he barely felt it. Nolan wasted no time. “You can’t keep doing this.” Mark stiffened. “Doing what?”

“Wasting away here,” his father said, gesturing toward the nursery. “I know you’re grieving. But you’re still Viltrumite. You have responsibilities.” Mark’s jaw clenched. “My responsibility is to my son.”

“Your responsibility is to your empire,” Nolan corrected. “Earth is filled with beautiful women, Mark. You could find someone new. Move on.”

Move on?

Mark’s hands curled into fists, his rage simmering beneath the surface. His father’s words shouldn’t have surprised him, but they did. “There is no moving on,” Mark said coldly.

Nolan shook his head, sighing like he was dealing with a stubborn child. “One of your duties is to repopulate the Viltrum Empire. You know that.” Mark’s stomach turned.

His father made it sound so… mechanical. Like love didn’t matter. Like she didn’t matter. Mark took a step forward, voice dangerously low. “Get out.” Nolan studied him for a long moment before nodding. “You can’t run from your duty forever.”

And with that, he was gone. Mark stood there for a long time, staring into the empty sky before finally going back inside.

His son stirred slightly as Mark sat beside the crib, brushing soft curls from his tiny face. Mark exhaled shakily, leaning down to press a kiss to his son’s forehead.

“I would never replace your mother,” he whispered. “She was one of a kind.” His voice broke on the last word, but he didn’t care. Because it was the truth.

The blood wouldn’t wash off. Mark stood in the ruins of another battlefield, his breathing ragged, his hands trembling at his sides. The bodies of fallen rebels littered the ground, their broken forms barely recognizable.

They had fought back. Resisted his rule. They were gone now. It was becoming easier.

The rage came quicker, burned hotter. The grief never left—it only morphed into something sharper, something ruthless. A blade he wielded without hesitation.

He used to be better than this. But she had made him better. And now she was gone.

“Sir?” A Viltrumite soldier approached cautiously, as if sensing the storm beneath his skin. “The planet is secure.”

Mark didn’t answer at first. He flexed his fingers, still slick with blood, before finally nodding. “Good.” That was it. No mercy. No remorse. Just another victory. Another hollow, meaningless victory.

⸻

He barely slept. When he did, it was worse.

The nightmares were relentless. He saw her face—smiling, laughing, whispering his name—only to watch it twist in pain, her body growing cold in his arms again and again.

Mark would wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, reaching for her—only to find the bed empty.

Always empty. His son was the only thing keeping him tethered.

The boy was growing fast, his mother’s eyes staring up at him with innocent curiosity. But Mark could see it, the way the nannies and caretakers whispered, the way the guards stiffened when he passed.

They were afraid. Of him. And maybe they should be. He wasn’t the same man anymore. He was a weapon with nothing left to lose. And without her, he was slipping. Falling. And soon, he knew, there wouldn’t be anything left to save.

Mark sat alone in his war room, staring at the holographic projections of his conquered territories. Planets bent to his will. Armies at his command. An empire expanding without resistance.

And yet, none of it mattered. It was all meaningless. His fingers tapped against the table, his mind drifting, drowning in memories he couldn’t escape—until a voice interrupted.

“Well, well. You look even worse than I expected.”

Mark’s eyes snapped up. Angstrom Levy stood before him, his usual smug expression in place. The air around him crackled with residual energy from whatever dimension he had just stepped through.

Mark’s body tensed immediately. “You have five seconds to tell me why you’re here before I rip your head off.” Angstrom merely chuckled, unbothered. “I wouldn’t be so hasty. I have something you want.”

Mark’s glare darkened. “There’s nothing you could offer me.”

Angstrom’s smile widened. “Oh, I think there is.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What if I told you… you could have her back?”

Mark’s breath caught. His heart—cold and empty for so long—lurched violently in his chest.

Angstrom’s grin grew at his reaction. “There’s a universe out there where she’s alive. Whole. Untouched by tragedy. You could see her again, hold her again.”

Mark’s jaw clenched. “…What’s the catch?”

Angstrom tilted his head, feigning innocence. “That universe—it’s a problem for me. I need it gone. And you… well, you’ve never had an issue destroying things, have you?”

Mark didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it.” The words left him almost too fast, his desperation barely contained. Angstrom chuckled. “No second thoughts? No moral dilemma?”

Mark’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t care what happens to that universe. I don’t care about anything except her.”

Angstrom nodded approvingly. “Then we have a deal.” He reached out a hand, and without hesitation, Mark took it. A deal with the devil. A promise of salvation. And the only thing standing between him and his wife—was the destruction of an entire world.

Mark stood over his son’s crib, watching as the small child blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. For a moment, just a moment, the weight of what he was about to do pressed against his chest. He reached down, brushing soft curls from the boy’s forehead, memorizing every detail—his tiny hands, his mother’s nose, the way he reached for his father without hesitation.

Innocent. Oblivious. Mark exhaled sharply. He couldn’t waver now. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, voice firm. “And I’ll bring your mother with me.”

The child let out a small babble, reaching up. Mark allowed himself a single moment of hesitation before pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead.

Then he stepped back, handing him off to the waiting caretaker. The woman held the child close, but her eyes were nervous, wary. She should be.

Mark turned without another word, his cape billowing behind him as he left the nursery. Angstrom was waiting, a smug expression on his face. “Touching.”

Mark didn’t acknowledge the comment. He didn’t care what Angstrom thought. All that mattered was the portal crackling before him, swirling with unstable energy. A gateway to another world.

A world where she was alive. Without hesitation, without fear, Mark flew forward. And as the portal swallowed him whole, only one thought consumed him. Finding her.

The sky burned.

Buildings crumbled beneath his fists, entire cities reduced to nothing but dust and ruin. Screams echoed through the streets, but Mark barely heard them.

He moved like a force of nature—unstoppable, unrelenting. This world didn’t matter. These people didn’t matter. Only she did.

Somewhere in this universe, she was alive, breathing, unaware that he was tearing apart her world just to reach her.

Angstrom had delivered on his promise. The coordinates, the exact places where she might be. But Mark wasn’t going to waste time searching quietly.

He would burn this entire planet to the ground if it meant finding her faster.

A hero—a version of someone he might have once called an ally—flew at him, fists glowing with energy. Mark caught his arm mid-strike, crushing bone with barely any effort before throwing the man through a collapsing skyscraper.

A woman in a high-tech suit fired at him, shouting something about surrender.

Mark punched clean through her chest, barely sparing her a glance as her body hit the ground. None of it mattered. None of them mattered.

He flew through the smoke-choked air, eyes scanning the ruins below. The scent of fire and blood filled his lungs.

Then—he saw her. Or rather, a version of her. Standing in the middle of a shattered street, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. Mark’s heart pounded.

He landed hard enough to crack the pavement, stepping forward, fists still bloodied, eyes wild. Her lips parted, confusion flickering across her face. “…Mark?”

A broken breath left him. It was her. It was really her. For the first time in years, his heart felt like it was beating again.

His muscles loosened, his breath shaky as he took another step forward, reaching out— But she took a step back. And the look in her eyes wasn’t love. It was fear. Mark’s fingers twitched. His mind screamed at him that it didn’t matter, that she would understand, that she would see soon enough that he was doing this for her.

A tremor ran through the ground as another explosion shook the city. Smoke curled in the air between them. Mark clenched his jaw.

No matter what she thought now—no matter how much she resisted—he had already decided. He had come too far. She wasn’t going to slip away from him again. She took another step back.

Mark’s stomach twisted. He could hear her heartbeat, the sharp, uneven rhythm of it. Not with love, not with relief— With fear. “No,” he said, almost pleading. He took a step forward, closing the space she was so desperately trying to create between them. “It’s me.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her eyes darted to the bodies, the fire, the shattered remains of her city.

He followed her gaze, and for the first time, he saw what she saw. Not a lover. Not a husband. A monster. Mark swallowed hard. “I did this for you.” She flinched.

His hands clenched into fists. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to run to him, throw her arms around him, tell him she’d been waiting. That she’d missed him as much as he missed her.

Instead, she was trembling.

“Stay away from me,” she whispered.

Mark froze.

She didn’t mean that. She couldn’t.

Not her.

Not after everything he had done—everything he sacrificed—just to see her again.

The ground trembled as another explosion rocked the city. Her gaze flickered to the destruction, then back to him. And she ran. Mark stood there for half a second, stunned, before instinct kicked in. It didn’t matter. She could run. He was faster.

Before she could take three steps, he was on her, an iron grip closing around her wrist. He barely registered her gasp of fear as he spun her toward him, crushing her against his chest.

“Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, his entire body trembling.

“I lost you once,” he murmured. “I’m not losing you again.”

She shoved at his chest, panic lacing her every movement. “You’re not my Mark—”

His grip tightened.

“This universe tried to take you from me,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “I won’t let it.”

She whimpered, twisting in his grasp, her struggles growing weaker against his impossible strength.

He pressed his lips to her temple. “No matter what happens,” he whispered, “you’re coming home with me.”

She was so still in his arms.

Mark barely heard the others as he landed in front of the house—Debbie’s house. Or at least, the version that existed in this universe. His mother wasn’t here, not really. None of these people mattered.

But she did.

Her unconscious body was warm against his chest, her face relaxed in a way he hadn’t seen in years. He held her just a little closer.

The other Marks were already gathered, watching him with varying expressions. Some amused, some indifferent.

“Why the hell did you bring her?” One of them, sporting a yellow and black suit, frowned. Mark didn’t even look up. “She was part of my deal.”

Mohawk! Mark scoffed, smirking. “Look at this guy—so pussy whipped he traveled across dimensions!”

A few of them chuckled, but he didn’t react. Viltrumite Mark growing annoyed with the Mohawk variant, spoke. “Where is Angstrom?”

The others shrugged, murmuring amongst themselves. Then, as if on cue, a green portal cracked open before them.

Viltrumite! Mark barely paid attention to the conversation that followed. He knew the drill—Angstrom would send them all home, back to their respective worlds, back to the wars and chaos and bloodshed that defined them.

But for once, Mark wasn’t thinking about any of that. His attention remained on the woman in his arms, his fingers absently brushing against her back. He’d spent so long fighting, so long clawing his way through blood and ash, just for this moment.

For her.

The portals to their dimensions flickered to life. The others began stepping through, disappearing one by one.

Mark adjusted his grip on her, cradling her closer as he moved toward his own portal.

And then—he was home. His warships still filled the sky. His empire still stood, unshaken. The weight of responsibility loomed overhead, but none of it felt as heavy anymore. Not now. Not with her back in his arms.

He gazed down at her peaceful face, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. “Welcome home, my beloved,” he whispered.

She stirred in his arms. Mark felt it instantly—the faint movement, the shift in her breathing. His grip on her tightened instinctively. She was waking up. Good. He wanted her to see.

Mark flew straight to the palace, the grand structure carved into the remains of a conquered world. It loomed over the city, a symbol of power and absolute rule. His soldiers bowed as he passed, their gazes flickering to the unconscious woman in his arms, but none dared to question him.

Inside, the halls were cold and vast, built for a king, not a man. The walls were adorned with war banners, artifacts of his victories. He had everything—an empire, an army, a legacy that stretched across the stars.

And now, he had her.

He entered his private chambers, stepping past the balcony that overlooked the city. With careful hands, he laid her down on the large, ornate bed, adjusting her so she rested comfortably against the soft fabric.

Mark sat beside her, watching, waiting. A soft sound escaped her lips. Then, slowly, her eyelashes fluttered, and her breathing hitched. She was awake.

Her eyes met his, and for a brief second, there was nothing but confusion—until it all came rushing back. The invasion. The destruction. Him. Her body tensed, her breathing sharp and uneven. Mark reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She flinched. His expression darkened. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured.

She shoved at his chest, scrambling backward. “What did you do?” Her voice trembled, her gaze darting around the unfamiliar room, realization sinking in. “Where am I?” Mark caught her wrist before she could move any further. He pulled her close, forcing her to face him.

“You’re home,” he said simply.

Her breath hitched. “No—no, this isn’t—” Mark shushed her, pressing his forehead against hers. “I know it’s overwhelming,” he whispered. “But you’ll see. This is where you belong.”

She trembled in his grasp. “You killed all those people—”

“I had to.” His voice was firm, resolute. “I did it for you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but Mark only held her closer, his thumb tracing gentle circles against her wrist. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he murmured. He wouldn’t let her go. Not this time.

Mark sat on the throne, fingers drumming idly against the armrest, his gaze locked on her.

She sat on the edge of the massive bed, stiff and silent, her hands gripping the sheets as if they were the only thing grounding her. She hadn’t spoken since he’d told her she was home. She was still processing. That was fine. She had time.

The heavy doors creaked open. Mark didn’t look away from her as his father stepped into the room, his presence as commanding as ever. Nolan was one of the few people who could enter without permission, but even he hesitated at the sight before him.

Mark finally turned, watching as his father’s eyes landed on her. Nolan stilled. His brows furrowed. He took a slow step forward, then another, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t know how you managed to do that…” Nolan muttered, eyes flickering between Mark and the woman sitting frozen on the bed. Then, to Mark’s satisfaction, his father’s lips curled into something almost approving. “…But good job, son.”

Mark’s chest swelled at the praise. Nolan looked at her again, studying her face—the same face that belonged to a woman who had died years ago. He exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

“Interesting.” His gaze turned to Mark. “And she remembers you?”

“She will,” Mark said simply. She let out a shaky breath, looking between the two Viltrumites towering over her. “You—you can’t just keep me here—”

Nolan huffed a quiet laugh. “She’s feisty.” Mark smirked. “She was always like that.”

Nolan clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “She’ll learn. Just like the rest.” Mark nodded. He already knew that. She would understand. In time, she’d accept her place. She had to.

She shivered under his touch. Mark’s hands lingered, tracing the curves of her waist as he helped her adjust the fabric of the Viltrumite clothing. The white and gray fit her perfectly, the gold accents catching the dim light of the room. It was a queen’s attire—his queen. He slid his palms over her arms, up to her shoulders, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against the curve of her neck.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin.

She tensed but didn’t pull away. He took that as progress. His fingers interlaced with hers, his grip firm yet careful. “Come,” he said, leading her toward the door. “It’s time you met your son.” She halted mid-step.

Mark turned, watching the shock ripple across her face. Her son. A sharp breath left her lips. “You’re lying.” Mark’s expression softened—just slightly. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She stared at him, searching for deception, for some cruel trick. But there was none. Slowly, cautiously, she allowed him to lead her forward.

As they walked through the towering halls of the palace, her hand still in his, she realized there was no escaping this. No waking up from whatever nightmare she had been pulled into. Because this wasn’t a nightmare to him. To Mark—this was a dream fulfilled.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The nursery was warm, quiet, bathed in soft golden light. And there—nestled in the crib—was him. Her baby boy.

She froze in the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe. He was so small, so perfect. He had her nose, her eyes, tiny fingers curling in excitement as he saw her. Then—he babbled, reaching out. Her legs felt weak.

“He recognizes you,” Mark murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His hand found her waist, warm and possessive, gently pushing her forward. “His mother.” Tears welled in her eyes.

She wanted to run to him, to scoop him up, to hold him close and never let go. But fear held her in place. This wasn’t her world. Wasn’t her baby. And yet—when he let out a tiny whimper, his arms still reaching—her body moved before her mind could stop it.

She stepped forward, hesitantly, and carefully lifted him into her arms. He cooed, tiny hands grabbing at her clothes, his warmth pressing against her chest.

A sob threatened to escape her lips. Mark’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder as he watched the scene unfold. “See?” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. “This is where you belong.”

Days passed in a blur. She barely spoke. Barely slept.

Her son—Mark’s son—never left her arms for long. Every time she tried to distance herself, the child would fuss and cry, his tiny hands gripping onto her as if he knew, deep down, that she wasn’t supposed to leave. And Mark… Mark was always there. Watching. Guiding. Touching.

His hands were never far, resting on her back when she carried their son through the halls, brushing against her waist when he led her to meals, tilting her chin up when he demanded her attention.

He never forced her, never raised his voice. But his presence was suffocating. And yet—she couldn’t bring herself to fight him. Not when he looked at her like that. Like she was his entire world.

Not when their son—her son—clung to her, trusting, innocent, unaware of the war raging in her heart.

The palace was beautiful, grand and open, yet it felt like a cage. She could roam wherever she wanted, but there were always eyes on her. Viltrumite soldiers nodded as she passed, but there was no mistaking their purpose. They were guards. Watchers.

Mark didn’t treat her like a prisoner. But she was one. And the worst part? The longer she stayed, the more the thought of leaving terrified her.

Dinner was quiet. It always was.

Mark sat across from her at the long, polished table, their son nestled in her lap, babbling happily as he played with a small golden trinket. She barely touched her food, only picking at it while Mark ate with a steady, satisfied ease.

Then, casually—like it was the most natural thing in the world—he said it. “We should have more children.” Her hands froze. More? Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as she processed his words.

She hadn’t even had one child—not really. Not in this life. This wasn’t her son, not the way Mark believed. And yet, he spoke as if she had been his wife all along, as if nothing had changed.

Like she hadn’t changed. She swallowed hard, her fingers curling around the fabric of her dress. His wife’s dress. The realization hit her like a blow. The way he dressed her, in fine silks and intricate embroidery—his wife’s clothes. The way he touched her, lingering, reverent—as if she had always been his.

The way he guided her, suggested how she should wear her hair, what jewelry suited her best—the way his wife had worn it. He was trying to replace her. No—not replace. To bring her back. Her lips parted, her throat dry. Mark watched her expectantly, his gaze warm, unwavering.

“Y/N?” His voice was soft, affectionate, like they were having an ordinary conversation between husband and wife. “What do you think?” She forced herself to breathe.

Her son—not hers, not really—giggled in her lap, blissfully unaware of the tension thickening in the air. Her pulse pounded in her ears. What did she think? She thought she was drowning. She couldn’t answer.

Her throat tightened as she stared at him, at the quiet expectation in his eyes. He meant it. Every word. More children. A future. A life she had never lived, but one he had already decided belonged to her.

Her fingers trembled against the fabric of her dress. Mark’s hand reached across the table, covering hers, grounding, steady.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Is something wrong?” Everything. Everything was wrong. But she couldn’t say that.

Not when his grip was so gentle, yet so firm. Not when his thumb traced slow circles against her skin, comforting, possessive. Not when their—his—son looked up at her with bright, adoring eyes, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

She swallowed hard. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Mark chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “I know it’s a lot to consider.” His gaze softened, his fingers still trailing against hers. “But we’ve lost enough time already.”

Her stomach twisted. Lost time. To him, she had always been his wife. His love. The mother of his child.

And now, he wanted more. More memories that weren’t hers. More children she had never carried. More years stolen from a life she had never lived. Her silence stretched too long. Mark’s smile faltered, just slightly. His fingers tightened, just barely.

“…Y/N?” His voice was still soft, but there was something else now. A quiet warning. She forced herself to meet his gaze. Lying to him would be dangerous. But the truth—her truth—wasn’t an option.

So she did the only thing she could. She nodded. Mark exhaled, his smile returning in full force, his grip on her hand loosening just enough to feel like reassurance.

“I knew you’d understand,” he murmured. She forced herself to smile back. And inside, she screamed.

She lay in bed, stiff as a board, her body refusing to relax even as Mark’s arms encircled her.

The weight of his presence was suffocating, his warmth pressing against her side. She kept her breathing steady, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to will herself into some form of calm.

But Mark noticed. Of course, he did.

He shifted, rolling on top of her in one fluid motion. The air in her lungs stilled.

His bare chest pressed against her, his warmth inescapable. He was only wearing his pants, his body solid and strong, caging her in beneath him.

His fingers traced the line of her jaw, his touch feather-light, almost tender.

“I was broken without you,” he murmured.

She sucked in a breath as his lips brushed against her neck, slow and lingering, his hot breath fanning over her skin.

“I’m so glad to have you back.” His voice was full of raw emotion, of something aching.She squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn’t right.

She wasn’t who he thought she was. But he believed it. With every touch, every kiss, every word, he believed it. And if she told him the truth— Would he even listen?

She shouldn’t feel this way. Her body shouldn’t be trembling beneath his touch, her breath shouldn’t be coming out in soft, uneven gasps. She shouldn’t want this.

Mark’s hands roamed her skin with slow, deliberate purpose, his lips dragging over her neck, her collarbone, lower. Every touch was practiced, familiar, like he had done this a thousand times before. Because he had. Just—not with her. Not really. But her body didn’t know the difference. Her body responded to him as if it did.

His fingers found the sensitive spots she didn’t even realize she had, his touch coaxing heat from her skin, his mouth whispering promises against her throat—mine, always mine, never leaving me again.

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to hold back the traitorous sounds building in her chest. She hated him. She hated him.

He was a monster. He stole her from her life, tore her from her world, forced her into a role that was never meant to be hers. He was selfish, obsessive, violent.

But his hands were gentle. His voice was soft. His lips worshiped her as if she was something precious, something irreplaceable. And the worst part? Some part of her liked it.

Guilt twisted in her stomach, hot and suffocating, but it wasn’t enough to stop the shudder that racked her body as his fingers slid lower, as his voice murmured praises against her skin, as he played her like he had done this a thousand times before. Like he knew her.

Like she had always belonged to him. Her mind screamed at her to fight, to push him away, to remind herself who he really was. But her body betrayed her. And Mark knew it.

“Please” she begged, her hands shaking as she holds onto his shoulders. He kissed her mouth silencing her weak protests, she couldn’t even fight back. He pulled up her nightgown pulling down her panties. He tossed them aside, pulling her night gown over her head, he kisses down her chest, to her stomach, and finally to rest in between her legs. He moves her legs on his shoulders as he licks up her slit, using her fingers to open her folds, inserting two and thrusting. She quickly grew wet at his actions, her body acting on instinct, as he sucked on her clit, circling around the sensitive bud. Her legs clenched on his head but he paid no mind.

Continuing to eat her out like a starving man. She threw her head back, moaning helplessly. She wasn’t a virgin, nor was inexperienced in oral sex in any means— yet all her past relationships never made her feel this good.

Her breath hitched as his fingers worked her apart, his touch agonizingly slow, purposeful. Every stroke, every brush of his lips against her skin, was meant to unravel her. And it was. Her body responded before her mind could fight it, hips shifting, breath catching, a soft, humiliating whimper slipping past her lips.

Her nails dug into the sheets, and she pulled his face closer to her warmth, she felt him smile against her. She squirmed and panted, “wait— I’m gonna” she cut herself off with a moan, and he added another finger, her walls stretched around him. She whimpered, feeling herself get close. He didn’t stop, if anything he worked harder. And soon she came, he licked her up, slupping up her juices. As he pulled away from her pussy, thin strings of cum connected his face. He just wiped it with his hand.

Mark chuckled against her throat, low and pleased. “See?” he murmured, dragging his tongue along her pulse. “Your body remembers me.” She clenched her fists, shame burning through her even as heat pooled in her core. No. No, it doesn’t. This wasn’t hers to remember.

But the way he touched her—like he knew her inside and out—made her question everything. This was how he touched her. His wife. The woman he had lost. The woman she wasn’t. Her mind screamed at her to shove him away, to fight, to remind him—remind herself—that this wasn’t real.

But her body betrayed her. Mark lifted his head, watching her with heavy-lidded eyes, drinking in her trembling form. His fingers teased, coaxing more from her, more reactions she didn’t want to give, more proof that he had already won.

She felt her resolve slipping, her body giving in, her mind clouded by pleasure and something far, far worse—acceptance. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, claiming kiss. “You were made for me,” he whispered against her mouth. And God help her—some part of her believed it.

Mark held her close, his arms wrapped around her as if he were afraid she might vanish if he let go. His grip was firm but not suffocating, his warmth engulfing her, steady and unyielding.

Her breath was slow, steady against his chest, her body slack in sleep. He brushed a hand over her hair, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. Good. She was adjusting.

It had been difficult at first. She had been quiet, withdrawn, hesitant—but now? Now she was soft in his arms, pliant beneath his touch. She was his again. Mark closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, satisfaction settling in his chest. Things were finally falling into place. She had fought it—he had expected her to—but she was coming back to him.

She was coming back to herself. He just had to be patient. She loved him once. She would love him again. He would make sure of it.

What he didn’t know—what he couldn’t see—was the war raging beneath the surface. Because she wasn’t asleep. Not really. She lay still, eyes shut, body curled against his, pretending, forcing herself to stay limp in his hold.

Because if she moved, she would break. She hated him. She had hated him from the moment he took her, from the moment he looked at her with that kind of love, from the moment he touched her and convinced her body to betray her.

But now—now she didn’t just hate him. She hated herself. For letting this happen. For not fighting harder.

For letting herself feel anything other than disgust when he kissed her, when he touched her, when he made her his. For that one, fleeting moment where she almost—almost—wanted it. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall.

Not here. Not where he could feel them, where he could comfort her, where he could twist her pain into something else. So she lay still. Silent. Hating him. Hating herself. And worst of all—hating the part of her that was terrified of the day she stopped hating it.

[radlovesfics]

Invincible Variants x Female! Reader x Original Invincible

I don't know how to describe this lol

CW: Slight freakiness?

WC: 3,1k

"This is complete bullshit." You spat, gritting your teeth as you tugged at the tight metal collar that the assholes from the G.D.A had forcibly attached to you. It was blinking a green hue, and each time you went to go and grasp at it with the intention of ripping it apart, it would change to red, sending shockwaves of electricity that hurt like hell.

Putting your arms to your side, you raised a brow at the complete destruction that surrounded you. Blood splatter, broken buildings, and pieces of human remains that laid around only served to fuel your bad mood. Screams of civilians could be heard from the distance and instead of worry and concern flooding your senses, it was only annoyance.

You had been captured and locked away after another fight with Invincible—and you couldn't believe you had been a fool to have been caught off guard. That stupid superhero, Invincible, got into your head and messed with you.

Each time you thought back to the moment back in that cell, a bitter taste flooded your mouth, and you couldn't help but bite your tongue.

"There's no way you've always been like... this." His voice—God, every time he would confront you he'd use this aggravating soft tone as if he was talking to a scared cat—called out to you, trying to reason with you.

"The fuck you know about that, pretty boy?" You scoffed, "How many times are you going to give me these pep talks? This is a fight, not a book club."

"How ever long it takes. You don't hurt people."

"Tell that to the people I sent to the hospital."

"Fine—I misspoke—you don't kill people. Even then, you're different from the other villains." He stepped towards you, pushing past the debris that you caused. "It's not too late to turn a new leaf. Change your ways."

"What makes you so confident in that, hm? Did you take one psychology course and suddenly you know exactly what I'm thinking?" You cackled, an amused smile gracing your lips.

"Maybe." He couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "But we've fought long enough for me to know that you pull your punches. You drag out the fight just a few minutes more..." Invincible hesitated, something at the edge of his tongue that he wanted to say.

He cleared his throat, changing his mind. "... and I think you do that 'cause you like the company I give you. And I like giving it to you."

Your breath hitched, a small squeal itching at the back of your throat as you took a step back. What on Earth was he saying? "The fuck you getting at?" You snarled, but the stutter of your words were as clear as day. "I'm going to kill you for this sappy shit your saying."

Invincible's lips quirked into a smug grin, tilting his head to the right just slightly. "I don't think you will. I also think we can be... good friends, you know."

... Friends? Is he delusional?

Invincible eyes flickered behind his goggles, and his shoulders stiffened as he saw an agent had snuck up behind you while he was talking to you--a gun in hand. "Wait, fuck, look out!" He screamed.

You immediately tense, turning on your heel to see what was behind you. Though it was too late, the gun set off and a painful electric bolt stabbed into you. Your body immediately went limp, falling to the ground as you were being subjected to millions of bolts running through your body relentlessly.

"What the hell! I had all this under control, why did you do that?" You could hear Invincible's voice screech out, and a quick whoosh sound approached you. The superhero crouched next to you, cradling your head as he watched you spazz out uncontrollably.

This little shit is acting like he didn't plan this from the beginning. Caught you off guard with that fake friendship shit and have a goon take you out from behind? You should've fucking known.

"Fuck! Your going to be okay, I'm, I'm so sorry." He sounded so apologetic as he continued to cradle your head as if you were a delicate flower. Invincible then shifted his eyes to the G.D.A agent who had shot at you, glaring daggers. "How do I make this stop! Tell me!"

The pain and how tired your body quickly got overwhelmed you, your vision turning black as Invincibe's shouts faded into the distance.

You couldn't believe you fell for the—ugh—friendship talk. You should've known he was just saying that crap to distract you, but with that superhero it was confusing!

Every other super would immediately get straight to business, throwing punches or whatever special power they had when they came on scene and see the absolute destruction you caused. Putting the safety of civilians above 'talking it out.'

Yet with Invincible it was the opposite; he seemed more concerned about you than the wreckage and terror you spread.

Destroying downtown with a maniac laugh escaping your throat? He'd just sigh and shake his head, calling out to you as if he had just caught you in an embarrassing act.

Throwing a civilian in the air at full speed? Oh, Invincible will just catch the dude and go, "Come on, (Y/N)!" In a playful way as if you had gone a little too far with playing around.

"Weirdo." You shivered as you recalled his weird behavior. The next time you see him, you will for sure kill Invincible—or erm, the Invincible of this dimension? You've been dragged out of your cell and been briefed about some evil alternate Invincibles wreaking havoc all over the world. They needed every available resource they got out there to fend off the evil variants.

Well, at least you can practice the best way to kill your Invincible with the knock offs.

You jumped in the air, pushing yourself high so that you could see down below. Squinting, you scanned the area. The destruction stretched for miles, blaring cars and screams filled the air. You saw injured civilians using each other as support as they tried to run to safety.

You averted your gaze—all those governments assholes told you is to fight off variants, not save lives.

"No! Please! Aarrghh!" You heard a blood curling scream screech up ahead and you tilted your head in curiosity as you made your way towards it. Jumping off the destroyed structures like a frog jumping off lily pads.

Peering down, you saw a tall figure standing before a freshly dead body. The skull crushed and the brain spilled out slightly from the cracks. You raised a brow, an unimpressed look on your face as you observed the supposed variant.

He had no mask, his face was fully visible and the mohawk haircut out in full display. His suit was torn on the shoulder, dust sticking to the costume. He had a large shit eating grin on his face, a visible smile line accompanying it.

Is that what Invincible actually looks like without the mask? Huh, I guess he is actually a pretty boy.

Clicking your tongue, you put a hand on your hip as you watched Mohawk Invincible cackle to himself as he turned his head, his back facing you. A sly smirk creeps at the edge of your lips, your eyes dilating like a cat watching its prey unaware of what is behind them.

Without a second to hesitate, you leapt off the structure you were on, raising a fist. Clenching it tightly, you landed a solid hit on the upper part of his back—sending him flying to brick wall. "Score!" You whistled, his legs up the air as his head shoved into a patch of dirt.

Cracking your shoulder, you slowly began to approach Mohawk Invincible, "Those G.D.A suckers kept me in their basement for way too long, my body is all tense. Happy to be out, but sucks I got a shock collar on me." You hummed, talking to yourself as you used the back of your foot to leap from the floor—sending yourself flying to the variant.

"W—"

You sent a harsh kick, sending him flying once more. Though this time, Mohawk Invincible caught himself, digging his hand into the ground. Whipping his head up, he swatted at the dirt dust that accumulated in the air from his body being dragged.

A tight fist met his jaw, sending his head backwards. Clenching his teeth, he whirled his head back, extending his arms and harshly tackling the person who had just attacked him. The variant put his whole-body weight on you and he was quick to grip a hand on your neck, squeezing as his eyes darting to your face as he raised his free hand to beat the hell out whoever ambushed him.

His eyes were angry, but it quickly faded as the dust settled and he saw who was under him. His clenched fist softened, blinking as there was no doubt in his mind that he was staring at this world's (Y/N). You looked the same, your perfect hair sprawled and the color of your eyes he used to stare lovingly staring daggers at him

"Oh shit, (Y/N)?" The variant called out, the solid grip grasping on your neck loosening. Your eyebrows furrowed, a knot in your stomach twisting as the same exact tone the variant was using sounded exactly the same as your Invincible's.

"That's me." You hissed, watching as his gaze flickered to the collar that was on your neck. With him distracted, you took the opportunity to land a hit on Mohawk—his weight lifting. You rolled both of you over, and you connected your hands to his throat, pushing it down.

"How do you know that name?" You questioned. No one should know your real name.

"Fu—Fuck—(Y/N)," He choked out, staring up at you with something you couldn't recognize. Your Invincible always wore goggles so you never had to look into his eyes. You wondered if he had this look whenever he looked at you, and you grimaced as that made you uncomfortable.

The look wasn't hatred, anger, or fear. It was... some form of desperation. Not desperate to live, but desperate for something else. Or someone else.

"It's—It's you. Shit, it's—it's really you." He heaved out, his hands grasping at your arms. He was holding them, not making an effort to tear them away. Hell, he was actually using his thumb to caress you instead of pulling you away.

He sat his neck up, bringing it closer to the chokehold you had on him, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. Your hands that were perfectly molded to touch him, the familiar weight of your body on top of him—Fuuckk, he even got a small whiff of your scent.

He wasn't expecting to find this world's (Y/N) so soon. He held hope that this world's (Y/N) was still alive, planning to go looking for you after he wrecked some shit, but instead you found him.

He didn't expect you to jump him like this with this incredible strength. Are you a super in this dimension? God, right now he doesn't care, this is pretty fucking hot.

Mohawk slid his hands to your waist, squeezing the familiar curve that he used to grab so much. You were sitting on his stomach, but if you just moved your sweet ass a little lower you'd be at a perfect spot. He could just nudge you a few inches down—

You gasped, quickly pulling your hands from squeezing his throat as jumped backwards away from the man. The ghost touch of where his hands used to be on your body lingered, and you shivered as you scowled.

"What kind of perverted freak are you?" You growled, taking a defensive stance.

The variant merely coughed, cackles escaping his throat as he stood up from the ground. He brushed a hand over to his throat, his neck feeling empty without your hands squeezing them.

"What's wrong, babe? Figured your Mark liked being choked with how comfortable you were doing it with me." He laughed, his arms outstretched. "Can't blame a guy for enjoying a sample. You know—I'm kind of itching for another one, round 2?"

You looked at him like he was crazy. "Who the hell is Mark?"

"Your boyfriend, duh."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"He doesn't bag you?—Ah whatever, friend or something." He rolled his eyes, bringing a finger to rub the inside of his ear.

You continued to stare at him like he was crazy. "I don't know anyone with that name." You hissed, irritated at this odd situation. The fact that he called you babe was driving you further up the wall of irritation.

That seemed to surprise him, his eyes wide. Every single variant had some sort of relationship with you, it was either dating or one-sided love. "Your a super then, right? You gotta know Invincible." He raised a brow, trying to gauge what the hell this universe's Mark was up to for you to not know his civilian identity.

You snorted. "Super? Don't fucking play with me. I'm not fighting you out of a 'heroic duty, I didn't have a choice,'" you rolled your eyes, tugging at the collar that was still beeping around your neck. "But Invincible? Yeah, I know that pretty boy, he's the reason I got thrown into G.D.A's little dungeon and have this zappy collar on me."

Not a super. Huh.

That left him a little dumbfounded, hell, your whole attitude left him dumbfounded. Not that he didn't like it, but more so it was so different. You were soft in his dimension and all the other dimensions according to the other variants about the stories they'd share about you, so this was certainly not what he was expecting.

"... You were captured by the G.D.A? You're not a good guy? Wow. That’s new."

You groaned; you were done hearing the nonsense this Invincible variant was spitting at you. It made you confused and annoyed. Not answering his question, you lunged forward.

He blocked your attacks, dodging your leg kicks and jabs. "So, you’re naughty? I'm getting excited." He jested, biting his lips as his eyes bore into you. God, is he going to talk the entire time? "You're going to definitely like me then. I’m naughty myself, especially in bed.”

"Shut the fuck up.”

“Fine, we can continue this foreplay. Fun!”

“You’re more annoying than my Invincible.” You took a step back as you watched Mohawk Invincible lunge towards you with full speed. You steadied yourself, preparing to lunge towards him as well before a blur of black intercepted.

You dug your feet into the ground, whipping your hand around to see that another variant was here. They wore the same blue and black palette that the Mohawk variant wore, but their face was fully covered by a black mask.

"Ya dick!" Mohawk screeched, pushing off the fully masked variant. "I'm in the middle of something here, go somewhere else!"

The fully masked variant merely slapped the other variant's face to the ground, standing up hurriedly to look at you. He had heard the commotion, and your recognizable voice made his ears perk up.

It's been so long since he heard you speak, heard you breathe. His body started moving before his mind could process that you were alive in this universe.

"(Y/N)..." He breathed out, feeling his whole body go light as he took a step towards you. "Your—Your alive in this universe. Alive and healthy..." His eyes trailed to your figure, and you tensed. "... and strong. That's good."

"What am I supposed to be? Dead?"

"In my universe you died. You were sick." His voice broke, taking more steps towards you. This masked Invincible seemed different from the one with the Mohawk. Sad, but still held that same desperation. "I've missed you; I've missed mom—both of you were my world."

"What is with this sentimental bullshit?" You cut him off, shaking your head. You felt like you were intruding in some sort of sad romcom scene that wasn't supposed to be directed at you. This was really killing your appetite to kill Invincible. "Did we know each other?"

'I' knew that pervert and now this guy too.

He flinched, seemingly hurt from the fact that you didn't know how deep your two's relationship was. "Yeah, in my dimension we knew a lot of each other—"

"—Well I'm not whatever lame ass version you think I am." You cut him off. You eyes darted to the two variants, wondering what to do next. If it was just, you and Mohawk, you could've had the shot to kill him. But two of them? Maybe it's best to sneak off. It'll be even worse if more Invincibles showed up.

Worse in a fighting aspect as well as worse in... whatever you call this strange phenomenon that was happening with these variants. Some alternate versions of you apparently had relations with these mentally unwell men, and you didn't want to find out how many more Invincibles had the googly eyes for you.

"That's okay. As soon as we find mom you can get to know me, and I can get to know more of you when we go home."

"Hey! I found her first, I get dibs, dipshit!" Mohawk sprang to action, his face contorting at the assumption that the masked asshole would be the one to take you home. He jabbed finger into the masked variant, shaking his head. "Go cry to your mommy! I was here first, fair and square."

"Don't talk to her as if she's an object!"

"Waaa! Waaa! That's what you sound like!"

You sweat dropped at the scene, they were acting like two children fighting over a toy. Though it worked great in your favor to escape from this situation. Turning on your heel, you were ready to make a break for it.

"You're both immature." A cold voice called out. You looked up, seeing two Invincibles hovering in the air.

One adorned the signature colors of Omniman, a red cape attached to his shoulders, while the other was wearing a white uniform. The Omni-Invincible had his arms crossed as he looked down, his head tilted at you.

"Let me guess, you two know ‘me’ too?"

"Yes." They both answered. The red one looked over to the two variants that were squabbling with each other a few seconds before, but the white one kept his eyes on you. Unmoving.

I'm getting out of here.

You jumped into the air, bolting through the sky. Though you could hear something whirling a few feet behind you. Guess you weren't going to escape so easily.

Maayybee I’ll do a part 2 since I didn’t get to write Sinister Mark and barely did interactions of Omni Mark and Viltrum Mark 😈😈 hope you like this blurb thing? Sorry I don’t know the terminology HAHSHA

[radlovesfics]

havin more ideas….. about the variants…. This time with time traveling/reality hopping reader who just wants to fix things….RAAAHH

[radlovesfics]

I know we all eat up how fucked in the head all the variants are and how shitty/toxic they treat you while still loving you (each in their own weird way) but what if just every single variant treated you in the nicest most loving way possible.

Like you’re the ONLY one who gets gentle touches and kind words. Yeah, some Marks are more gruff and cold than others but there’s literally only love on that mf’s face when he looks at you

They’re all obvs still crazy as hell and would do literally anything for you and to have you but they’re not gonna be unnecessarily cruel or mean (to you!!)

They’re all doing their thing of destroying and killing and RUN to you the second they find you. the switch is immediate it’s scary they’re like needy cats who hate competition bc well. How could they NOT fight over you?? While they’re causing mayhem and basically playing keep away with you, they’re all talking about their own versions of you and keeping you safe from each other.

Legit screaming at each other only to just look at you and start saying the most sappy bullshit

They never hold you too tight!! Never too forceful!! No threats towards you ever!! Just a lot of sad puppy dog looks if they try and be affectionate and you swerve that shit lol

Won’t stop them from kidnapping you tho LMAOO they just love you so much <3 they’re gonna be controlling at most unfortunately!!

Idk if this makes sense I’m high and just thinking about every Mark being nice to me bc I love them

[radlovesfics]

Tbh this is all over the place and took me so long to get out skjfksjfjdk sorry in advance

need poly couple Eve/Mark/Reader so fucking bad I feel like it has so much potential FUCK

So like, maybe you’re childhood best friends with either Mark or Eve going to the same school and everything but to make this more coherent we’ll go with Mark

Growing up as next door neighbors and developing a huge crush on this loser when you’re both in middle school. When you realize what’s happening, you do everything you can to stamp it down and act like nothing changed. Mark is so entirely oblivious it’s genuinely painful!!

this continues for years with no sign from Mark that he reciprocates so you just resign yourself to being the supportive girl best friend who’s there for him no matter what. cheering him on for amber and all!! then you meet Eve!!

You encounter her randomly in school and become fast friends and really close. You don’t know anything about her other identity or powers but it’s not like that gets in the way. You enjoy having a close female friend for once. She’s just so easy to talk to and so helpful and nice and so pretty to look at also she smells so good and you can’t stop staring at her- FUUUUCK. You catch these gay ass thoughts while probs staring at her in class looking stupid and smitten. Id also like to think you don’t talk about Mark with her unless you’re just ranting about him doing stupid shit. You don’t want to fester on Mark not liking you back and you want to force yourself to move on and have fun with your only girl friend. Eve has NO idea you’re in love with him. anyway !!

just like your feelings with Mark, you ignore these too! especially since you’re unaware if she’s even into girls :( you thankfully have a lot of experience in hiding your feelings so Eve is none the wiser. I feel like the only person to know you even have any crushes at all is William, but he’s a ride or die bro he’s got you he ain’t snitching but also he is going to die from how stupid the three of you are

anyway!! back to mark :)

You’re there for him throughout all the good and the bad that keeps happening to him, even when you start to see less and less of him with his newfound responsibilities. Eve is still around but still somewhat barely. That’s when you notice Eve and Mark start interacting in school!! mainly when you’re not around, only because Eve and him are talking about superhero stuff and she hasn’t revealed who she is to you yet. You’re a little put off and hurt by it bc the second you approach the two of them they start acting weird. You do your best to ignore it bc as far as you’re aware, Marks into Amber and it’s not illegal for your two friends to be friends haha this doesn’t bother you at all to be left out nope oh shit they broke up?? Uhhhhh

This doesn’t mean he forgets about you seeing as how you’re the first person he goes to once he starts dating Eve. This is also how you found out about her hero identity bc Mark’s so excited to talk about it. He ofc realizes after he gets done gushing to you about her and freaks out, but you’re just. Staring. Absolutely world rocked rn. Finding out two of your closest friends (that you have a MASSIVE thing for) are together, just about does you in. Mark’s found someone who you know is one of the most beautiful and wonderful women you have ever met. Eve is with the most perfect and sweet handsome guy who you’ve known your entire life and you know for a fact he’s amazing. They have so much in common you will never relate to and clearly understand each other on a level your normal civilian self cant. They’re perfect together, is what logic tells you so how could you NOT be happy for them? It kills you inside but maybe this is what was always meant to happen. You could never stand beside these two in a way that matters.

You start pulling back from interacting with the two of them, just heartbroken and miserable but feeling so selfish for these feelings. You feel like a horrible person and start kinda avoiding the two of them. Helps that they’re already SO busy they don’t notice. You don’t blame them, they’re literally superheroes. Ofc they’re gonna have more important things to deal with right?

Mark and Eve do actually start to notice !! There’s a very big you shaped hole missing and it doesn’t click for them until they see you again but not under the best circumstances.

Idk what exactly but there’s some kinda massive attack that happens and you’re caught in the crossfire. it’s BAD. I’m not sure if maybe they save you during this attack or if they find out what happened later and seeing you so hurt and vulnerable as they stand beside your hospital bed or as you’re being held in their arms after rescuing you, something shifts. They still don’t understand it exactly but they realize you’re their best friend and they haven’t been exactly the best friends back. So obvs they have to fix this

They start to see you more often after this incident and you’re stuck in the mindset that it’s a pity thing. To make sure you’re safe and don’t need saving. Mark and Eve just missed their bestie :( and now they’re being so clingy??? Your heart can’t take it.

I think maybe Eve realizes she feels differently about you first bc she’s more self aware and only brings it up after seeing Mark interact with you. She clearly sees him act the way he has towards her to YOU. Mark is in denial at first but once Eve points it out to him he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s so stupid!!! He’s super apologetic to Eve and like rambling until she shuts him up like “Mark, it’s fine. Honestly feelin’ the same. “ they both have a long and healthy conversation about it !! Final result is wanting to include you in the relationship but they don’t know if you feel the same or even want to be in a poly relationship. so obvs they gotta figure that out !!

Mark and Eve start flirting heavy!! Well. As well as Mark can bc we know that man is awkward asf but it’s so cute and endearing <333 They’re being hella clingy, always wanting to talk to you and hang out. In uniform and out tbh. More free with physical touch, practically hanging off of you at some points. They’re often bringing you little gifts from wherever they’ve just traveled to or taking you on little flights. Mindlessly compliment you, Mark fumbling with his words awkwardly and Eve just being suave as fuck. They are being so blatantly obvious and yet !! You have no idea !!!

You’re actually going insane. You don’t understand why they’re acting the way they are and think they’re either messing with you or just see nothing wrong with what they’re doing. Maybe they know you like them and are just teasing your poor self. It’s hurting you and confusing you bc you’re trying so hard to move on from them but they’re just everywhere all the time !!! You complain to William about it and he tries conveying this shit to Eve and Mark but they’re kinda dumb about you tbh.

One day, you’re hanging out with the two of them and idk the context but Eve hugs you with a kiss on the cheek and Mark swoops in for a group hug, talking about how much he loves “his girls”. They do this so naturally and without hesitation you finally snap and burst into tears, shoving them off of you. You yell at the both of them about how cruel they’re being and to just stop teasing you like this. You’re a mess, telling them off for obvs knowing how much you like them and they’re just making fun of you. You’re sobbing as you tell them it’s so painful to love the two of them when they don’t love you and their friendship with you is making it harder for you to stop. You’re just dumping years of pent up longing on them now. How you’ve felt, how it’s been to be their third wheel or on the sidelines for so long. I love you both so much but every time you touch me like this I die a little inside every time. I’m so happy for you two and your relationship but I can’t do this anymore. “

At the end of your confession, Mark and Eve are like. Bug eyed staring at you bc oh. William might have been right 😔 (never fuckin question William guys cmon)

Their silence and the looks on their faces make you realize what you just did and immediately you panic. You turn to run away bc oh god you fucked up now they know and they hate you and think you’re insane and a weirdo and you’ve ruined your friendship with both of them and-

Your erratic thoughts stop the second you feel a hand on your wrist and suddenly you’re being smothered into Mark’s embrace and Eve’s hand is on your shoulder, both of them staring at you with the most tender and loving expression.

You’re alarmed and want to push them away but Mark’s “Thank god” breathed into your hair as he hugs you close stops you. He ofc takes a step back to face you properly but doesn’t go too far nor does he stop touching you.

Eve is the one to explain how they both feel about you and what made them realize they had both felt this way for a long time, they were just too stupid to realize. They apologize to you, not knowing you had felt that way for so long and wishing they knew sooner. You start crying again as they explain and they think this is you rejecting them, thinking THEYRE the weird ones for both of them liking you and wanting to include you in the relationship.

These fears vanish the second you throw yourself into them, crying and so so happy. Telling them you love them and giggling as they sandwich you in a hug, pressing kisses all over your face and saying the same back.

Your insecurities ofc cause you to step back at times and ask them how could they love you when you’re just…. Regular ole you.

“We love you, because you’re you. “ You’re their best friend, their family, their lover. You’re there for them at the end of a hard grueling day. You’re there when they just want to be the ones taken care of, when they’re stressed or depressed and need something soft and sweet to remind them being a hero isn’t all their lives amount to. You’re their sense of normal and peace. With you, they’re just Mark and Eve and it’s perfect :)

[radlovesfics]

I FEEL SO BAD TO THE PEOOLE FOLLOWING ME AND BEING SO SUPPORTIVE I PROMISE WHEN MIDTERMS CALM DOWN ILL FINISH MY SHIT 💔💔💔

[radlovesfics]

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. More marriage with Viltrum Mark ty for liking the last one, I wrote this wit a headache

CW: not proof-read, forced marriage, fem reader, dub-con, straight piv, partially clothed, I don't know shit about the garter tradition, some dirty talk idk, Mark is way too horny about getting married

It was odd. The wedding had so many 'earth' traditions carried out. Mark slipping a ring on your finger and watching you do the same, bringing a Viltrumite of a high position to declare you married, kissing you tenderly like he didn't take away everything from you for his selfish desire, he did it under the impression that it'd please you, all it did was make you miss home.

You dreaded the bedroom the most as he carried you back, the silver white of his clothes duller than the pure white that hugged your body; the one he requested. There was no use clawing or fighting him like you did during the first few weeks on this planet, he was stronger and as much as you hated to admit he was right; there's nowhere to go on Viltrum or the galaxy.

You were snapped out of the despaired haze as Mark impatiently dropped you on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, sitting on his knees with all his decorum gone, he panted. "I've been waiting for this." lifting your legs as the garter came into view, the dress spilling and compiling at your waist.

"Earther men have some sort of custom related to this," he started, looking between you and that flimsy piece of fabric that clamped around the meat of your thigh, gaze sharp and hungry. "The groom removes this from his bride, right?"

You noted how he paused, as if waiting for you to answer, you glanced away uncomfortably. "... It's mainly a... 'western' tradition."

"But an Earther one, right?" He seemed too eager to listen to objections, lips running over your thigh, a trembled sigh coating your skin as if he couldn't believe this was happening, you resisted the urge to squirm. "Let me have you." He mumbled.

His teeth clamped onto the cloth, ensuring he had a firm grip as he tugged it down, painfully slowly. Sharp eyes looking up at you to drink up your emotions; embarrassment? Love? Fear? Mark convinced himself it was all the same with you.

After removing it, he spat the garment aside, so abruptly it made you jump, "Lay back." He demanded quietly as he climbed into the lavish bed, mattress sinking under his weight.

His hands quickly trailed over your body, lips hurriedly coming down to meet yours in a yearning kiss, feeling you, drinking you in. "My bride... my beautiful bride.." he mumbled to himself between kisses, parting his lips to deepen the kiss further as he practically moaned into your mouth.

Your hands came up under the assumption that he'd try to remove the dress before he swatted one hand away impatiently. "No. Keep it on." He almost growled as he tugged your thighs closer, his hard length pressing against you beneath the fabric. "I want to fuck you in this dress."

There was something about touching you and kissing you as you were dolled up for him that drove him insane. Was it the outfit? The clothes? The fact that it's your wedding night? He didn't care.

He undid his robes, Viltrum clothes coming undone as he tugged his waistband down enough, grunting as his cock sprang free, throbbing and ready to finally consummate. "Look what you do to me.." his hand tugged up your wedding dress impatiently, your face reddened at the harsh gesture, grasping his wrist. "Mark..!"

"Oh, relax... I'm your husband now." Mark's hands clutched the waistband of your panties, tugging them off normally would require him to move, so his fists clenched around the fabric as he easily shredded it to pieces, eliciting a shocked noise from you. "What're you doing..?! You could've moved!"

"Not even a thousand men could move me right now." He shot back, eyeing you with such a hungry look it made you embarrassed to be seen by him, his gaze remained on you as he threw aside the flimsy fabric.

"My formalwear and your dress stay." He panted, shuffling closer and caging you between his arms. "This is our first night together... as husband and wife." His lips stretched to a smile, it sounded like he was narrating this to himself out of pure ecstasy.

"S-slow, please— slow—" your lips parted in shock feeling the head of his cock slowly rub and push against you, his eyes squinting but never closing as he committed every detail of your face's changes to memory, inch by delicious inch.

"My cute wife..." he practically moaned, hips pressing against you harshly as he bottomed out. "Mmmmh.. I love you.. say it back to me.."

You couldn't speak, not when his hips immediately picked up a rhythm, his dick forcing a moan out of you with every thrust, nestling deeper and deeper with every 'plap!' That resounded. "Say it back— mmh, fuck.. say you love me.."

Sweat coated your body quickly, the dress making you even more heated as it was trapped underneath. "L-love... you..!" You barely strung the words together, your moans and noises resounding faster than you could speak.

Plap! Plap! Plap! The sweat pooling under your dress, The throb of his cock, his moaning flooding your senses, his height and size consuming you as he leaned over you, you could barely focus on anything as your jaw hung slack moaning aimlessly.

"Yeah? You love me?" He sounded like a kid in a candy shop, he always got like this when you showed a smidge of affection. "Of course— mmh, of course you would.. I'm your husband after all... hah..."

His hands pushed your palms open, jamming his fingers between yours as his hips pistoned into you, pussy struggling to accommodate his crushing speed, overwhelming you mentally and physically. "I'll make sure you're full of my cum, it's what my cute wife deserves, isn't it?" He punctuated his point with a harsh buck of his hips.

"You'll be the happiest woman in the entire fucking galaxy, fuck..!" Mark hissed, the discomfort of sweat piling onto his skin was nothing compared to the pleasure of your cunt sucking him in. "I love you, I love you... fuck, I love you...!"

He took advantage of your open mouth to kiss you sloppily, his tongue filling your mouth easily as he swallowed your moans. It was disgusting and debauched, just how he liked you.

"Hah, 'm gonna cum.." he groaned between kisses, moving his hips faster— curse his Viltrumite stamina. "You're close, aren't you? I can feel you tightening." He grinned at your cock-dumb expression, trying to ground yourself in reality through the pounding in your womb, the shameful sloppy slapping echoing from your hips taunting you.

"Cum for me, cum on your husband's cock." He demanded over your moans, holding his own against you, though it wasn't long before you were sent over the edge, stilling and shaking as your orgasm practically shook you at your core, your tightening cunt catching him off-guard.

"D-don't do that you— Nnh..!!" Mark gritted his teeth as his cock finally, finally, filled you. he desperately slammed his hips down one final time to ensure no drop would escape you unless it was because he filled you too much, his loud groaning shadowing your moans as he tightened his hold over your hands, hot load spilling and spilling.

The full feeling in your cunt, your husband panting over you as he slumped into your breasts, hugging you closely like an emotional support plushie, it would have been sweet had he not still been nestled inside you. "G-Give me... 5 minutes... and we'll go again.."

You gasped as you sat up a bit to look down at him, alarmed. "A-again..?!"

He looked at you with such a tired but smug expression, hair tousled more so than usual now as he laughed. "I'm not like those puny earthling men, it's our wedding night, I plan to make the most of it..."

[radlovesfics]

having so many thoughts on poly eve/reader/mark but they’re so all over the place I can’t post that shit without gettin my shit together if im laughed at I’ll die

[radlovesfics]

So glad everyone has come to the collective conclusion that Mark is a munch no matter whatever reality it is that boy FEASTS !!!! (ofc some better than others)

can see him being so into it he does it in the morning, maybe he wants to wake you up and give him some….. attention ;) and this is the best wake up he can think of. or it’s a nice and quiet morning in and you just wake up to him lazily eating you out bc he’s clearly hungry and “eating breakfast”

randomly throughout the day if he’s not working ofc and he gets in a mood while spending time with you or just starts thinking about you bro is on you immediately!! apologizing as he goes down bc he just can’t help himself and you taste so good and he loves you so much and he gets soooo into it

Can totally see him grinding himself into whatever hes laying on or he’s got one hand on himself but he can and will give you his full undivided attention to make it so good for you dw he’s really good at multi-tasking

he wants you for breakfast, lunch, AND dinner bby nothin is stopping that man

Mark has a long and horrible day where he’s just exhausted and comes home to you, the love of his life, just doing somethin hella domestic and you turn to see him come in looking battered as hell and ofc you rush over to check on him and take care of him and he’s so overwhelmed with his love for you at that moment the only thing he can think of to take the ache of stress off his back is to go down on his beautiful and amazing s/o until she’s incoherent and sobbing in pleasure

Mark has also totally come home maybe super keyed up or pissed off and pounces on you the second he sees you. just gets aggressive and sloppy and it’s wet and messy. only time he’s rough with you is if he’s feeling like this or you ask for it. but bro is goin FERAL over you and he’s gripping your thighs so hard and speaking literal FILTH as he practically makes out with your cunt. he acts like a man starved until he’s done then it’s back to being usual goofy and chill Mark who’s ready to have an actual conversation with you LOL. sometimes you just gotta let the man eat till he’s ready ya know ??

he also definitely uses it as a method to relax you. maybe you’re the one hella stressed out or can’t sleep, thoughts erratic and all over the place so Mark takes it upon himself to eat you out until you’re boneless on the sheets. head empty with the only thoughts being of him. he’s pretty gentle and slow when doing it like this, more focused on making you feel good and you enjoy yourself. massaging at your thighs and whispering praise, you don’t last long at all.

def takes what he has ever watched in porn and tries it out with you btw <3

his fav sex position is also 69 btw no I will not be told otherwise 🫶 (unless it’s the one position where he can watch himself go in and out of you bc it’s so hot LOL)

[radlovesfics]

You're Mine, Now and Forever

notes: first actually long fic for this fandom, and its giving a slow start. don't worry! it gets better from here. also idk how I feel about this style of writing, it feels off. idk.

warnings: MINORS DNI.

words :3.3k

You don't know how it happened, or how much time passed when the first scream ripped through the air and the first bloody body collided with your frantic driving on the express lane outta town. After all, it was just supposed to be like any other day, with you spending your time at work during a slow hour; organizing and reorganizing dresses for what felt like the nth time that hour just so you looked productive. Pop music filtered slowly through the store's speakers and you hummed to the few lines you knew of Chappel Roan's new hit song. The two customers milling around the clearance section chatted to another one of your coworkers across the store, and your manager was at the cash register, scrolling through logs of ordered clothing items to make sure they were in stock in the store's catalogs.

It was a boring day. A lunch break was the motivation for you to continue mindlessly nitpicking at full clothing racks when the first explosion shook the very building. The music stuttered glitching just to accompany the flickering overhead flourescent lights. Then another explosion follows soon after, a deep heavy boom that sinks into the soles of your shoes and rockets up your spinal cord to shake your back molars. Your mouth wants to open, to ask the obvious ' What the fuck was that?" out loud like every stereotypical blonde that questions the bloody scream they heard in the middle of the night in every 90's horror movie. But the chorus of screams and chaos answers your inner thoughts instead. Screams of fleeing citizens running away from whatever danger caused the very ground to shake, and smoke to plume into clouds upwards.

"Stay back, " your manager barks to you and three other women who cower together in a small huddle. She walks towards the still rattling glass doors of the store. A shared fear decorates your faces as you all watch with bated breath; the two sets of wide doors swing open, and your manager steps out into the chaotic mass of running bodies that swarm past her.

Horror paints her face when she sees the source of the destruction. Her head is tilted backward and jaw slack, her amber eyes the size of marbles, she's rooted to the spot. You're surprised she's not knocked off her small feet with every push and shove she endures. "Oh my god." Your ears strain, eyes focused on the way her mouth moves over each syllable with a slow, shocked pace. You're not blessed with reading lips, but you'd like to think that adrenaline fuels your brain enough to make out the word 'Invincible' before the ground shakes again.

This time, the destruction targets your building particularly. One second you're standing and the next, you're knocked on your ass washed away in a wave of shattered glass and minuscule pieces of asphalt and rubble that spray into your vicinity. The outside world, once muffled by plexiglass, screams with sirens, and people running for their lives berate your ringing eardrums. Your front doors are destroyed and buried under brick-and-mortar rubble. Severed limbs stick out this way and at odd angles from the tight crevices of drywall and insulation. The dust makes your eyes water, and you choke on a scream that squeezes your throat something fierce. You like to think you're not consumed by the panic and the trauma of watching your manager and several others get crushed to death in a matter of seconds because Mark has gone off the deep end.

"Come on!" Your coworker's words bark at you. Suddenly she's at your side, in your shocked haze, she managed to be the functioning one out of the rest of your group. Her hands grab onto your forearm and yank all your dead weight to your feet. "We need to leave! I don't want to die here!" Her free hand holds onto the sobbing customer, the other woman accompanying her is missing. Surely buried under the rubble that caved in one corner of the dress store, maybe she was one of the hands that was reaching out from the concrete bloody mess. The thought makes you want to stop and vomit, your stomach curdles with how much stress and adrenaline swarms through your body in nauseating waves.

You follow her, not like you had a choice, she's pulling your trio towards the back of the store and the emergency exit. Her breaths are ragged and half-sputtering between prayers to some god she believes in that your only exit isn't blocked off either. "Stay here, I need to get the keys in the office." Your coworker says, dropping both of your hands. Her face is an ashy pale gray when she turns to give both you and the other woman a once over, checking to see if you're all in one piece and able-bodied enough to book it once she gets the door open. You must look just like her, the expression of unrestrained fear and cement particles dusting your face. Small streaks of blood trickle down your temples and nose bridge, thanks to the shards of plexiglass that rained over you in the third explosion.

You nod, swallowing down acidic bile that bubbles at the back of your throat. Your eyes linger on her small back when she makes a mad dash to the small back office down the hall. When she disappears from your line of sight, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It makes you jump right out of your ashen grey skin. The woman beside you startles as well, her hand clutching at her heart. "Sorry," you manage to whisper, while your hands scramble to the right back pocket of your jeans to dig out your phone. The now cracked touch screen illuminates too brightly, shining a picture of you and Mark Grayson posed in a goofy pose. Your fingers poised in a 'peace' sign, while the male was peeking out from behind your shoulder with his two pointer fingers raised above either side of your head. Your twin smiles look so carefree in the saved contact picture you have of him.

Your thumb taps on the green answer button, and you raise the phone to your ear. Mark's out-of-breath panting sends chills down your spine in some sickly worrisome way. Your name barks through the speaker of the phone, the continuous screams make it almost hard to hear him. "Mark? Mark, what's going on? " You don't even question why the hell he's calling in the first place, isn't he the supposed one murdering and tearing down the city? Isn't that why the people screaming his superhero name saw him wreak havoc?

"No time! Please tell me you're safe. ." a pause, his ragged inhale makes your heart squeeze in time with your clammy palm gripping the phone tighter to your ear. "Please."

"I'm fine." You copy his pause, brows wrinkle in thought. You know you're lying, you're not fine. You're dazed and confused, shaking in your sleek shoes. Your legs are unsteady and becoming more and more unstable, the comedown from adrenaline is going to be a fickle bitch that'll do you in if whatever happening outside doesn't kill you first. "I'm still at work, I'm waiting for the door to get unlocked as fast as it can be."

Even through the grey background noise on the other side of the line, Mark's sigh crackles through the call. You could picture his shoulders just dropping the tiniest inch in relief, that a loved one of his hadn't been hurt or god forbid, even slaughtered mercilessly in the devastation that had been going on. "You need to get out of here." His voice urges, tensely.

"Mark-"

"I'm serious!" His tone jumps, he's barking. Halfway yelling, and you flinch. The woman at your side reacts by recoiling, both of your nerves bouncing off one another like electrons bouncing off the walls of an atom. "You need to get the fuck out of here, find a car-- any car. Don't even think about hiding, you need to drive as far as you can outta here. You hear me?"

You swallow dryly, fingers squeezing tighter. Blood rushes in your ears, you know you can't argue. There's no way to get information outta him now, not when his words are clipped, whatever is happening outside is far more important and drastic than arguing with his girlfriend who's too stubborn to flee for her life without asking stupid questions. You're smarter than that, and he knows it. He's lost far too many things, and gone through too many traumatizing situations than to waste time and not save the people he loves. Your eyes close briefly, counting to three in your whirling hellscape of a mind. You nod like he can even see you. You can sense it's different now. This isn't some closed-off fight between Nolan and his son that trying to stand up to him and not ' ready the Earth' for the viltrumites to come. This is far more scarier, it's drastic and life-shattering. "What about you? People are screaming Invincible is causing this."

"Don't worry about me." Mark says, his tone more gentle than before, "Just run, I can handle them and if anything happens to me? Just know I love you, okay?"

Your breath hitches. You hate how that sounds; you hate the confession on his lips. It sounds more like a goodbye than him admitting his affection for you like he does every day so casually. It feels heavier on your heart, it rattles your bones, and the tidal wave of curdling bile in your stomach roars into a tsunami. You need to vomit. You need to yell at Mark and tell him to not talk like that. You want to tell him that whatever is happening outside can be handled by the two of you together, even if you don't have any powers. Yet, before you can even voice any of those options over the phone, the call ends with a sharp click. You don't know tears are dotting your waterline till you blink so rapidly that a few salty drops cut trails down your ashy cheeks. Gray water stains the front of your shirt, and your phone lowers from your ear. Your grip is loose on the device.

"Got them!" Your coworker calls out, jogging back to you and the other woman; the jangling keys clenched tight in her fist. You don't know if it adds to the hurt your heart is already holding onto when she doesn't acknowledge the distraught on your face. She's more focused on jamming one of the silver keys in the keyhole and twisting it to the right, the satisfying click and rough opening of the door rings in your muffled ears.

The woman shoves past the two of you without hesitation, making a break for it as fast as her forty-five-year-old bones can carry her. She won't make it far, she barely would last surviving running around the bend of the building before the crowd of citizens tramples her half to death in their need to live another minute longer. Any man for themself is a fickle bitch. Your head turns to your coworker as you follow suit, breaking into a jog. She's already following behind, her pace a lot faster. "Stay safe." You call to her when she breezes past. Her silhouette disappears when she blends into the waves of people, fighting against the current so she can get to some sort of safety before she gets crushed to death herself. Her kindness, her stupid jokes, and her natural leadership are all you're going to have to remember her by; if you live long enough to even see her again.

You run a different path, following the makeshift alleyway that's half crumpled down and now smaller in size, your shoes threaten to trip on jutting-out stone and rebar when you traverse too fast. Your heart thuds faster in your chest, brain running a million miles an hour on how to keep yourself from running further and further away from the manic crowds. Alley water splashes at your ankles, sinks into your shoes, and makes your socks stick to your soles. You cringe inwardly, pumping your legs harder till you too start to run. The small alley breaks out into wide open space, and sunlight and smokey skies greet your frazzled complexion. Crashed cars and abandoned vehicles greet you immediately, some are still smoking and burning. Hot oil and melted rubber don't do anything to quell the queasiness you've been fighting this entire day, but there's no stopping now.

Now, you have to leave. No matter who Invincible knock-off is causing this; they'll be busy fighting off Mark and his team. You run along the cracked sidewalk, eyes sweeping over the conditions of the vehicles.

The lessening of people crying for help is eery, the whole city should be shouting from the tops of their lungs. It's like everyone got wiped out in a matter of seconds, or on a lighter note, they're all hiding and being as quiet as possible so they don't die next. You expected to see clogged highways and people running along the highways seeking freedom, instead, there are only deserted streets and cars tipped over on their sides that you brush past in your search for a ride.

Finally, you spot a buggy. A cute little Volkswagon with dents decorating its doors, and still running. Its engine is the loudest thing in the pin-drop silence, even compared to your sneakers pounding on the pavement. You know it's stupid to take the bait, that some conveniently placed car is here while you were in the middle of your search. You like to think you're better than the dumb female lead of a horror movie, that falls for every trick and ploy the killer lays out for her; but you're desperate. You need to fulfill Mark's wish, that you get the fuck out here and run as far as you can. The leather seat squeaks under your weight when you throw yourself inside the car and shut the door behind you. The car's radio crackles with dead static over its speakers, it sends chills up your spine and only adds to the apocalyptic atmosphere your once-busy city has been subjected to.

You're a walking target. The last survivor of your bug colony that trying to outrun the burning magnifying glass held above your head by some sadistic fucking toddler. The realistic side of things is, that you won't live to see the outskirts of the city before the Invincible knockoff crushes you and your car into smithereens. It'll be quick and painless, but you would hate to be another headstone in a graveyard that your family and Mark would have to visit. That's if they can separate your body from twisted metal and leather. With bated breath, you shift the car from park into drive and slam your foot down onto the gas. Clammy hands clench the wheel when you speed down the streets. You weren't prepped to see the mass destruction that greets you with every twist and turn you made. Bodies littered the streets, some in one piece, others most likely ripped into multiple pieces and scattered over the road and sidewalks. Collapsed buildings and homes make you swerve and splash puddles of oil and blood on the car's exterior. Your tires have run over a body part or more not to crash; the squish of flesh being flattened unnaturally is unmistakable in your ears.

"This is so fucked." You whisper under the roar of your pounding heartbeat. The city limit sign seems to grow closer and closer to you once you hit the wide-open highway. The drive through the rest of the city was thankfully quick, and you still were alive and unharmed. It's a miracle.

Your hope swells and stirs in the pit of your stomach like acid-covered butterflies, you're going to make it. You're going to make it! The delirious bubble of laughter peels from your parched throat, you can't help it. However, that laughter dies just as fast as it came. Just when you were going to pass that beloved city limit sign that seems just in arms reach now, your car hits the dark blue blur that launches itself in front of you. Your foot doesn't react quickly enough to hit the brake, but somehow you're violently stopped. Your chest hits the steering wheel, forehead threatening to follow suit if it wasn't for the seatbelt yanking you back just in time to save you from a concussion.

"Well, and who do we have here?" A male voice speaks out, way too calm for your own disorientated liking. "Hey pretty girl, didn't know if I'd see you again."

Again?!

You blink quickly, as a hand rubs at your bruising chest. In front of you, is . . Invincible. His color scheme is the same, black and blue, but he looks different. His ears stick out, and his hair is hidden away by his suit. His smile which you thought was charming and shy, is replaced with a sick stretched look. He bares all of his white teeth at you like a predator intimidating its prey. In your heart you know this isn't your Mark, it can't be. Not with the way he doesn't move a single centimeter of his body, he doesn't even look like he's breathing. The man is so quiet like he's waiting for you to freak out or scream, yet you disappoint him when you don't do either option. Boring, all you do is stare at him. Jaw slightly slacked, brain whirring a million microseconds a minute. His smile, however, doesn't waver. No, not at all; of course his pretty girl has always been smarter than any bimbo bitch that cried out when he flew through their bodies and ripped them to shreds in his hands.

It's what he loves- - no, it's what he was obsessed over back in his world. It was a shame you didn't last long in his care, and now it's like a higher being is rewarding him for his hard work here in your world to plant you in front of him so suddenly. He's glad the others didn't get to you first, who knows who he would have had to kill off his variants to get to you. He rounds to the side of the car so smoothly, your eyes watching his every step. A hand smacks down on the roof of the car, adding to the multitude of dents to its being. His other hand grips the handle of the driver's side door and pulls it off as easily as peeling off a sticker from its page.

He bends at the waist, his face invading your space far too close to your liking. He can smell the waves of fear and the new spike of adrenaline leaking from every pore of your body. Your natural scent mixed in is an addicting concoction that he never seemed to get enough of, you smell the same. You look just like the one in his home world. He hit the jackpot. You flinch at his movements, leaning far back in your car seat.

"Who are you?" Fuck you sound just like her. Your voice exhales so quietly, warmed breath fanning over the lower part of his face. Delicious.

The Invincible doesn't respond, doesn't even emote as much as that smile you start to grow unnerved of. It's unnatural, just like this entire day. Just like you don't know what the fuck even happened to get you to where you are now, staring in the face of a clone of your beloved Invincible.

[radlovesfics]

OH ???? MY GOD????? HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS TO THE TAGS IM ACTUALLY HOWLING !!!!!!! I need this man CARNALLY!!! The arranged marriage is such a good fucking idea TOO UGHH the potential angst!!! the horrible things the other marks will do !!! im on my knees rn

god I have not been able to stop thinking about this since @0bticeo brought it up but like. Knight!Mark would go so hard

be it a medieval setting or like. HEAR ME OUT!!! Mainstream mark or one of his variant selves (im seeing viltrumite) get forced to deal with alien-princess!reader for a mission to generate goodwill or a part of the plan to take control of her planet

The best way to do that is by getting close to the reader regardless and I can see two different versions of her in this scenario. (im ignoring other lore rn)

There’s the genuinely kind and sweet reader with no concept of boundaries who is too nice for her own good and all I can see is whichever of the variants (again mainly viltrumite Mark in mind) having to save reader’s dumbass as they’re basically pretending to be the equivalent of a knight for her and poor reader is in TEARS and clings to Mark just overall super physically clingy and affectionate. id like to think this is probably the first time some of the Marks have had any kind of gentle and loving touch and interpret it in their own way and either become pathetic little puppies who just want YOUR love and affection or decide you’re now basically a chew toy for them to do whatever they want with and making you cry gives them the hardest boner ever. you stay with Mark no matter what and I’d also like to think this some of the most attention you’ve ever received in your life despite being a princess and you cling to it, even if it is Mark just bullying you.

Mainstream mark would get a different scenario but the above could work too as I know damn well Mark would fold for the sweet and nice reader but

I also see mainstream Mark as someone who gets pathetic for strong/dominant/mean women, so his alien-Princess!reader would be exactly that. he has to go to her planet to help with something or for a peace thing whatever but reader is is put under his care and vice versa. she hates it! she hates every second of it!! takes out her frustration on Mark and at first Mark is really put off and they do NOT get along at all but Mark is also in awe over how pretty she is and how she’s so stubborn and headstrong and!! Maybe you’re kinder to your people than you are to anyone of the same rank as you!! He sees that and loves it!! and maybe he watches you save yourself instead of him saving you and as you stand there in the aftermath of whatever fight just transpired, looking wrecked while standing above the bodies of those who tried to fuck with you, Mark has literally never felt more attracted to anyone ever it physically HURTS. you’re glaring at him and bitch him out for being late and how you had to save yourself and you slowly lose steam bc he’s just. staring at you. absolutely smitten. and it’s making you nervous???? bc wtf shouldn’t he be snapping back at you?? but he’s just nodding along, agreeing with whatever you say with the softest look in his eyes it’s actually pathetic and adorable. he stops being so antagonistic back to you after this and you slowly realize how much you love him and something something rest is history !!!!

I honestly can’t think of much else to add here (will think more about medieval shit later) I probs have other thoughts but they gettin a bit too convoluted so this can be interpreted however LOL

[radlovesfics]

LMAOO honestly so long as it got a laugh 🙏🫶

ok but what if the Variants had their own version of childhood best friend reader where they DID meet and fall in love (somehow bc we freaky like that) except in every reality besides mainstream you:

Die to Nolan/ Get mercy killed/Eaten bc u know cannibalism and love metaphor or u die before he can do that/ get a terminal illness/ overall just something horrible happens and ur gone and it’s BC OF THAT the variants go “fuck it we ball” cuckoo bananas then after going to mainstream marks world are like “wtf u get to have her but alive???? naw that’s not fair “ and just basically it’s a free for all or with their collective crazy caveman brain they decide some sort sharing custody agreement LMFAO

OR LIKE ANOTHER SCENARIO WHERE U

still fall in love with mark in every reality but mainstream Mark is the only one where he pushes u away for ur own safety and won’t tell u the reason why (if he’s just not told u about his powers) or if he decides to be like fake mean and nasty and pulls a “you’re just a distraction and make me weak” *cut to him flying away sobbing like a baby bc he didn’t wanna do it but felt like he had to* so u hate him and love him but also hate him so much and now all these variants are pulling up and mainstream mark realizes he’s FUCKED when all these other assholes are obsessed and hellbent on finding u bc why would they not love u to their fullest ability?? they’re too selfish for that so queue funny/horrible interactions with all of them bc you’re still so mad and pissed at mark but also so in love with him it’s insane

Same scenario but kinda different: let’s say like u had ur own powers and could actually go toe to toe with mark and that shit he pulls pisses u off BAD bc u can take care of urself!! like mark gets u angry enough to attack him/make u hate him bc he’s such a martyr ofc and u fuck him up!! u both never interact again in any positive form and idk if he still gets with eve here but there’s def still pinning on his end for u anyway ofc the variants invade and reader gets sent out to deal with them while mark is MIA and maybe the variants’ reader was weak/powerless in every reality except the mainstream one so this is like. hard drugs for these crazy marks who are like “oh my god you’re so hot please beat me” u know?? and ofc u do bc u hate mark here and take out ur aggression on them

but I’d like to think (for added drama) ur superhero costume involves a mask to hide your identity and since ur were weak/dead in their realities, as these variants are fighting u they have no idea who u are and are not going easy or pulling punches and are being just awful but u know!! one sends ur mask flying or breaks it somehow and suddenly everything comes to a dead stop and whichever one ur fighting will freeze in disbelief bc wtf this is the loml??? the last person they expected ?? and she’s so strong?? and even more amazing than they remembered ??? u however will not give an actual shit and continue beating their variant asses as they all immediately change their attitude when fighting u and it’s just a LOT of flirting/ snarky compliments/ actually mark being gross and horny on main but this obvs sets u off and they realize mainstream mark never ended up with u and u in fact HATE him as they witness u literally crush one of themselves and well obvs they see themselves as better to the mainstream mark so they’re like “ok we can work with this :)” and blah blah blah run a train on u, kidnap u, lotta hate sex, whatever

and for the mainstream mark (to those that love him including myself): the above scenario ends with him trying over and over to save u and finally some epic and dramatic love confession with lots of yelling and then y’all fight together and have ur cute wholesome reunion and then fuck like crazy LMAOOO

I need to be sedated

[radlovesfics]

god I have not been able to stop thinking about this since @0bticeo brought it up but like. Knight!Mark would go so hard

be it a medieval setting or like. HEAR ME OUT!!! Mainstream mark or one of his variant selves (im seeing viltrumite) get forced to deal with alien-princess!reader for a mission to generate goodwill or a part of the plan to take control of her planet

The best way to do that is by getting close to the reader regardless and I can see two different versions of her in this scenario. (im ignoring other lore rn)

There’s the genuinely kind and sweet reader with no concept of boundaries who is too nice for her own good and all I can see is whichever of the variants (again mainly viltrumite Mark in mind) having to save reader’s dumbass as they’re basically pretending to be the equivalent of a knight for her and poor reader is in TEARS and clings to Mark just overall super physically clingy and affectionate. id like to think this is probably the first time some of the Marks have had any kind of gentle and loving touch and interpret it in their own way and either become pathetic little puppies who just want YOUR love and affection or decide you’re now basically a chew toy for them to do whatever they want with and making you cry gives them the hardest boner ever. you stay with Mark no matter what and I’d also like to think this some of the most attention you’ve ever received in your life despite being a princess and you cling to it, even if it is Mark just bullying you.

Mainstream mark would get a different scenario but the above could work too as I know damn well Mark would fold for the sweet and nice reader but

I also see mainstream Mark as someone who gets pathetic for strong/dominant/mean women, so his alien-Princess!reader would be exactly that. he has to go to her planet to help with something or for a peace thing whatever but reader is is put under his care and vice versa. she hates it! she hates every second of it!! takes out her frustration on Mark and at first Mark is really put off and they do NOT get along at all but Mark is also in awe over how pretty she is and how she’s so stubborn and headstrong and!! Maybe you’re kinder to your people than you are to anyone of the same rank as you!! He sees that and loves it!! and maybe he watches you save yourself instead of him saving you and as you stand there in the aftermath of whatever fight just transpired, looking wrecked while standing above the bodies of those who tried to fuck with you, Mark has literally never felt more attracted to anyone ever it physically HURTS. you’re glaring at him and bitch him out for being late and how you had to save yourself and you slowly lose steam bc he’s just. staring at you. absolutely smitten. and it’s making you nervous???? bc wtf shouldn’t he be snapping back at you?? but he’s just nodding along, agreeing with whatever you say with the softest look in his eyes it’s actually pathetic and adorable. he stops being so antagonistic back to you after this and you slowly realize how much you love him and something something rest is history !!!!

I honestly can’t think of much else to add here (will think more about medieval shit later) I probs have other thoughts but they gettin a bit too convoluted so this can be interpreted however LOL

[radlovesfics]

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 )

[radlovesfics]

Ok but mohawk mark 100% gets a tattoo of your name over his crotch and thinks it’s the sexiest thing ever and he would be so gross about it then just randomly hip thrust in your direction while naked like a loser and you want to kill him

you wanna hate it so bad but it’s genuinely all you can stare at sometimes when you’re giving him head or when he’s fuckin you on your back and horny brain is like “yeah that shit is mine”

you just gotta worry about him trying to get you to tattoo his name above your own crotch bc with his logic it’s something like:

“It’s got my name on it therefore it’s mine >:)”

[radlovesfics]

having some of my fav authors reblog/like my little rambles….. im in TEARS