#Viltrumite reader

[justevelynnnn]

Don’t fight it

Pairing: Viltrumite!fem reader x Mark Grayson

Summary: You’re a secret viltramite on earth. After Nolan abandoned his post and couldn’t complete his one mission you stepped in, trying to convince Mark, but you couldn’t convince him to join the right side so now you two have to fight. But what happens when you fight your boyfriend and the adrenaline rush leads to something other than fighting?

Warnings: Smut 🔞, Fighting, swearing, reader is a female, reader gets her nose broke

A/N: I wrote and edited this in a day😭 I just had the idea pop in my head and I just had to get it out.

“Mark.”

“NO.” Your boyfriend runs a hand through his hair. “God…literally fuck you.”

It was a hot day. You stood there with your arms crossed, starting to sweat through your tank top now. The heat was making this even more irritating. It had been about a week since Nolan left and it was right before his fake funeral. You decided to confront Mark outside his house…maybe try to convince him yourself to join the cause. Nolan clearly was a failure at that, oh well, but now it was your turn.

“Mark, stop that. You know I love you. You love me. This is for a good cause!”

“Shut the fuck up, seriously. First, my dad….now YOU?”

He steps towards you so you step back a bit. You don’t want to fight him. You’ve known him for years. He’s never yelled at you, got aggressive…anything. You’re not too shocked by the reaction though..sure, the timing could’ve been better, but now has to be the time. Nolan is a dirty fucking traitor who ran away because he KNEW you were coming for him for not doing what he was supposed to. And if not you then the others.

It was his idea after all. To get Mark to fall in love with you and slowly convince him to help take over the planet. His words to be exact actually was he got distracted with Debbie, had a child and became attached…and obviously so; but you ended up falling in love with Mark too. Not part of the plan. It was embarrassing to admit really but it is what it is. You cared for him, but god, why couldn’t he just open his stupid eyes? The Viltrumites just want to help. It’s the humans fault if they get killed trying to resist. Right?

“Listen to me… We just want to help. Surely, Nolan explained that to you, right?” You say reaching a hand out but Mark promptly slaps it away.

“So, WHAT?! You guys just want to kill people.” He spat, face reddening and his chest rising and falling quickly.

“No one wants to kill anyone. But..”

“BUT NOTHING.”

“Mark-” you’re cut off from him shoving you harshly. So harsh that you stumble back a bit.

You instinctively get into a fighting stance, but no…no you don’t want to fight him. Anything, but that please…

“What? What? Huh?! You’re gonna beat me to a pulp too?! Push me through a moving subway too!?”

“Please, stop Mark. Please, I don’t want to do this.”

Another harsh shove. It’d be one thing if you were a regular human girl, but you assumed him knowing what you are now changed things. He started to float in the air. No suit, just the clothes he showed up in. A white tee and gray sweat shorts.

You stare into his eyes almost pleading, slightly confused by what he’s not understanding. If he cared so much about these….people, then why not allow the Viltrumites to step in and help this race get stronger?

You only arrived here from Viltrum about 10 years ago. You didn’t age much since then but you still appeared middle school aged. After you were found and adopted by some random couple you were soon enrolled into Mark’s middle school. That’s how you met him and eventually how your “parents” met Nolan and Debbie.

You could tell instantly this was Omni man. He’d been here for years so they sent you to see what was up. Mark was almost a splitting image of him and you immediately put two and two together even at your young age. Saying he was embarrassed was probably an understatement when you revealed yourself to him one day when you were “13”.

Nothing was the same since that day.

Nothing.

You genuinely did not want to hurt Mark, but the way his fists were balled up and his teeth were gritted,….

“Mark-”, you started once again.

“Shut. Up.” His scarred lip curled into an intense frown now. This was it. It was too late to convince him to stop. He continued with, “I’m not going to let ANYONE conquer my planet. I don’t care about viltrumite anything! I don’t care if you guys are trying to “help”.”

You didn’t respond. What could you say? It was clear he wasn’t going to be convinced anytime soon. You sighed and balled your own fists.

“I guess every couple fights at least once, huh?” You sighed. It was really more to yourself, but you almost forgot Mark had just as good ears as you.

Immediately, “What!? You think this is funny?!”

You didn’t get to respond as he soon launched towards you, landing a punch to your gut. You struggle and gasped as it was unexpected. It wasn’t enough to leave a mark or anything. You knew that. It wasn’t Mark’s style to kill, especially when it came to anyone he cared about.

But, did he really just do that? Oh, Mark…

And so it begins. You spring into the air pulling him by the shirt. You were unexpectedly more angry than you thought. If only you could get him to actually fucking listen for once. And something about him saying this was his planet….ugh. He doesn’t understand how weak and useless these people are to space.

You flung him to the ground once you were high enough. He had fiercely thrashed and clawed against you while in the air, tearing your shirt a bit in the process but never striking you again. He still cared. Maybe he didn’t want to fight either.

He landed with a loud thud with a huge puff of air immediately followed.

“We don’t have to do this.” You yelled once more. “Don’t fight this…”

No response. You couldn’t see him through the smoke that came from the landing as it hadn’t cleared completely yet but you knew he wasn’t dead.

Then, a yell as he again rose from the smoke and attacked you once more. He’s throwing punches you can easily dodge, grunting and yelling like he’s giving it all when you know he’s not. He’s weak but not…this weak.

You block his punches, dodge, land a couple of your own… you were a skilled fighter of course, but Mark despite hardly training was just as good.

The air was thick with fury and rage as you guys are just spinning and fighting in the air now. One punch landed you right in the face with a sick cracking noise from your nose following soon after. Ouch.

He broke your nose…

He actually broke your nose.

You both briefly stop for a moment. A hand instinctively raising to your nose to see blood leaking and covering your hand. Your eyes flicker to Mark as you see him hesitate. He doesn’t move, but behind that still an angry expression was a hint of concern. You smiled through the pain which only forced the confusion to show more. You push him back to the ground once more once you realized he was caught off guard enough.

You landed next to him in the street as he sprung up once more and you two started fighting and wrestling once more. You knocked him over a couple of more times, getting swift jabs in on his sides, but he keep getting up just as quick. Blood from your nose splattered everywhere landing on the ground, on yourself and Mark as you keep throwing punches and even some kicks. You tackled him and pushed him through his living room window (thank god Debbie wasn’t home to see this) and you landed with him in his lap, your hands pressed on his chest.

“You ready to listen?” You panted. Blood still dripping from your nose on his chest. You ignored the pain catching your breath hoping he’d stop. He’s pretty bruised up now, wasn’t this enough?

He didn’t respond but he just stared into your eyes catching his own breath. You almost started to admire how he looked underneath you until he quickly started to push you off of him, succeeding and quickly reeling his hand back. You blocked it just in time standing and started throwing your own punches his way repeatedly.

You two knocked into furniture violently. He backed into the cabinets causing Debbie’s glasses to fall and loudly shatter behind, and around him with some shards flying and slicing you. You tripped over a potted plant at one point trying to dodge a punch and once you landed on the ground he was immediately straddling you now.

You’d push him off if he wasn’t so pretty and literally your boyfriend who you weren’t supposed to fucking love in the first place. His hair stuck to his face as it was covered and dripping with sweat, a black eye was slowly forming which you felt a bit guilty for and his lip was now cut again. He panted once more as his hands wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to choke you but…enough. Enough to turn that adrenaline into something else.

A moment passed again. The universe must be saying something for you both to end up in this position over and over. And Mark must be saying something because you see him getting hard through his shorts. You guessed his adrenaline was going somewhere else too.

And, Jesus, did he look hot all sweaty and angry above you like this. Your sweet silly Mark, now suddenly the complete opposite.

You struggled a bit, almost still wanting to fight until he muttered darkly, “What? It’s like you said, don’t fight it…”

You watched as the anger in his eyes slowly turned into lust. Dangerous lust. Watching as he bit his lip, and muscles flexing as he tightened his grip ever so slightly. You let a moan slip and it was over.

He leaned down immediately to kiss you. His lips were still soft just like before but now with that irony taste of blood. Something about him was just so addicting. The way he growled as you reached to grope him through his pants, the way his grip tightened more so now you did struggle to breathe… the way his tongue fought yours violently like he was trying to eat you. Like he wanted to taste your final breath.

When he let go you gasped for air. You weren’t weak so no time soon when you were going to signal him to let go but a part of you also enjoyed the thrill. He only let go to fling off his shirt and yank his pants down his thighs. You almost froze eyeing his physique especially glistening like this with his sweat.

“Take your fucking clothes off.” He says harshly staring you down while simultaneously stroking himself. His tone and behavior slightly caught you off guard as you froze, and he snapped you out of it quickly by grabbing your face with one hand fiercely and barking, “Now.”

You start pulling your tank off your head as he pulled your shorts off, soon following your panties.

“Why does your underwater have the fucking viltrumite symbol on it?” He snickered eying the damp fabric. He proceeded to wave it in your face but all you could see was his muscles flexing in his arms, veins popping. Adrenaline was still rushing through your own body, but you could tell the same was for Mark.

“Some of us actually appreciate our heritage.” You spit back smirking. You wished deep down you wore something more attractive though.

“All of you are so weird.” He said spitting directly on your cunt. You flinched and fought back a moan as he promptly started to slowly finger you right after.

“You can barely fight, what makes you think you can fuck?” You try to say it with confidence, still slightly passed at him but more at yourself for allowwimg this to happen. Instead it comes out airy, filled with need because he’s fingering you with two fingers now with his thumb pressing your clit.

“Says the virgin.” He laughed dryly.

Now you’re more pissed. You told him that as a secret. Who does he think he is?

“What makes you thin-”, you start but you’re cut off by him roughly kissing you once more, and at some point he bites your lip, drawing blood. He licks it before you do.

He muttered a “shut up” as he kissed down your neck quickly and impatiently. At some point he stopped fingering you, and you almost whined at the loss. He pulled away to lick his soaked fingers clean with his tongue, moaning as he stared into your soul. You almost take this chance to his him again, which you actually do, but he stops you and swiftly flipped you over so you’re on all fours now.

A calloused hand pushes your face down before you try to get up, and another hand pressed down on your back forcing your arch a bit more.

“Don’t fight it.~” He says almost mockingly. You groan feeling him as he lined his tip against your entrance.

“Stop….saying that. If you’d just listen for once-”

“Nope.” He says that as he pushed his full length into you. The stretch forced a long lengthy moan out of you. It hurt so good.

Mark wasted no time moving either, groaning himself as he thrusted slowly. It was almost like he was savoring how your walls felt around him. It took you a minute to get used to his size, especially being inexperienced.

“Fuckk.”, He groaned deeply.

His hands grip each side of your hips as he steadied himself. Sweat dripped onto your back side now as he hovered above you. You felt your ass ripple each time his hips met it and his hands tighten as you playfully squeezed him. Hearing his breath hitch each time gave you a thrill once more.

Until he started pounding you harder and deliberately aiming for your sweet spot. You didn’t think he’d find it so fucking quick but oh he did. It wasn’t long before you were seeing stars. At this point you’d knew you wouldn’t last long at all in this position.

Then, Mark flipped you over once more, pushing your thighs by your head and forcing you into a mating press. Strangely, you felt very exposed suddenly as he stared at you like you were a piece of meat. You reached to attack him once more until he harshly grabbed your wrist, brows furrowed and a growl escaping his throat once more before he started fucking you again.

“I’m not gonna stop until you say you won’t take over Earth.” He spat slightly whimpering.

“Guess we’re gonna—fuck—be here awhile, h-huh?” You smiled up at him.

He didn’t respond. He just fucked you harder now. Angrier. One hand was around your throat with another on your hip holding you in place. It was almost like he had done this before.

This lasted awhile. Only the slick, sloppy sounds of skin meeting and desperate noises filled the damaged living room. You were lucky you two ended up on a rug of all places. Your thighs were slick and covered his lower half with juices. Blood still ran a bit from your nose down your face, your bitten lip now swollen.

At some point he was fucking you so good your hands reached around his back and just scratched. He whined but kept going, and going, and going. It was almost like he was pissed. His hand tightened again so you could barely breathe and you were getting closer.

And him rubbing your swollen clit wasn’t helping. Your mind was spiraling and your limbs felt like putty. He leaned by your ear, messy damp hair falling on your shoulders as he kept muttering sick, lewd things into your ear about how he was going to fill you up until you beg him to stop. How soon you two have your own viltrumite child. How you felt so damn good around him, so tight and warm….

All of it simply sent you over the edge as you shook violently. You never felt this much pleasure in your life. Never. You almost couldn’t see with how good this orgasm was. You sounded like a broken record as you came around him, scratching his back once more. He kissed you again, damn near eating all your moans and whines.

You didn’t come down from your high for 5 minutes and all the while Mark still fucked you.

“Ready to join my side?” He said simply, thrusting slowly chasing his own orgasm. You were getting overstimulated and kept quivering...but viltrumites do not back down from missions so easily so…

“Never.”

“Okay, suit yourself.” He chuckled as he picked up the pace once more. He proceeded to pick up your discarded underwear and shove it in your mouth to “keep you quiet”.

Deep down you knew there was truly no convincing him. And deeper down you didn’t care.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 10

Mark Grayson + Alien Biology

I wanted to write viltrumite reader stuff, and I figured out this was a great way to explore my viltrumite biology headcanons.

Warning about blood and the likes in this, as viltrumites are a very… violent people. Readers got a moustache, cuz hes a viltrumite.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Space was vast and borderline endless, and with less than 50 viltrumites left, Mark hadn’t expected to run into any of them. Least of all you, who happened to be one of Thraggs favoured sparring partners, making you one of the few, if not the only viltrumite left that had the powerful leader on his toes. You were more than just strong, you were smart. Scary smart. Which was also how you had so easily tracked down invincible.

Mark knew it would have most likely been a fight to the death, that’s what it had started out as anyways. All the blood and violence, the two of you crashing through asteroids and planets, carving tunnels through the very makeup of worlds and societies homes.

He had kept his head on straight in the beginning, even if Mark felt his blood bubbling and rushing through his body like a shaken soda bottle, the bubbles only seeming to grow worse as more blood was spilled. The pain was almost unbearable, but part of it had him feeling more alive than any other thing ever had made him feel.

At some point during the fight Mark must have bitten you, as your upper torso was naked, the fabric of your uniform having been shredded. There was a slowly bleeding wound on your shoulder in the shape of his teeth, Mark feeling a hot syrupy feeling pour down his spine and pooling in his abdomen.

He felt… hot. Mark audibly panting as his mouth hung open, the googles of his suit having been shattered when the fight started. He was much younger than you, you were in your thousands, but there was still something interesting about him. Maybe it was just the fact that he was nothing more than a half breed, and had survived your punches, even if you hadn’t even used half your strength.

Or maybe it was the thick scent of arousal rolling off him. It was a viltrumite scent through and through. You had only met very few humans, and had smelled even less when aroused, but the scent was different. For viltrumites it was closer to the scent of bloodlust, of conquest and absolute dominance. For humans it just felt hungry, like a weak creature wanting to copulate.

You had a feeling that Mark didn’t fully know what he was feeling. Any smart viltrumite would have turned the battle from deadly to more carnal, if only to save what few remained of your species, but Mark kept taking pot shots at you and letting out guttural noises that had to be the human in him. His suit did little to hide the hard shape of his arousal either. You almost wanted to curl your nose at the sight, had his father not even taught him to control himself?

It was pitifully easy to finally pin Mark down. You only needed one hand to do so, straddling his torso and simply holding his hands above his head as he almost snarled, barring his bloody teeth at you like a cornered animal. His nose was bleeding, there were multiple bleeding cuts on his body, and from the looks of it there were at least three broken bones, and yet he still wriggled and spat at you.

Mark only seemed to register what he had been feeling when you tore his suit off him like butter, staring from his neck and down. Part of you wanted to scold him for being so indecent about his arousal, any true viltrumite would know how to control their slit and breeding appendage.

But even you were perplexed when you tore what ugly suit of his all the way down to his thighs, and were met with a sight you weren’t used too. He didn’t have the usual tools of a viltrumite. His breeding appendage was outside his body, as well as hard and oozing against his stomach. Out of curiosity you released his wrists to reach down and fondle that little pouch under it, not reacting to the fact that his now free hands had started clawing at you again.

“You truly are just a half breed” you mumble, more to yourself than anything, but it was enough for Mark to pull himself out of that unfamiliar steamy thirst for blood and dominance. Seeing him so easily pull himself from the instinctual need to always be in control and have your way was yet another interesting sight, you could only assume it was his human half again.

“What’s that… what’s that supposed to mean” Mark croaks out, eyes settled on your bloody hands inquisitively exploring his twitching hardness like it was something you hadn’t seen before. Normally the sight of blood on his body would have made Mark heave, but for some reason knowing it was his and your blood? It only fuelled that new unfamiliar feeling inside him.

“True viltrumites do not leave themselves vulnerable like this” you rumble out, giving his sensitive appendage a squeeze, raising a slow brow as the half breed arches off the ground with a howl, spilling white all over himself. It was cute, in a way. The young half breeds scent only grew thicker, and leaning down with a sniff confirmed that what he had spilled all over himself was what had caused it.

You knew you should just kill him, but that would be such a shame. Sure, he wasn’t a full viltrumite, and didn’t even pose a threat to you, but it could at least be interesting to keep him around. “W-what are you doing” he whimpered, his hands much softer now as they grabbed onto your hair, his noises too enchanting to be those of a viltrumite. Viltrumites didn’t moan, they growled, snarled, yelled and roared, they never let anybody make them weak enough to moan like this. And yet, Mark allowed it.

The taste of his spend, his seed, was foreign on your tongue, but it wasn’t a bad taste. His little chest was cute too, Mark jolting and twitching as your moustache tickled his skin. So, his skin was more sensitive too, he truly was endearing. Your tongue was hot against his skin, it seemed his body temperature was slightly lower than yours as well.

Licking up his neck let you feel the pulse thrumming under his skin, you almost wanted to sink your teeth in and wrench your head back, just because his vulnerable veins were so close to the surface. It was a miracle he had lived so long, when he was so weakly built. Marks lips were soft against yours, his noises still huffing out between your lips as his arms curled around your neck, pulling you closer instead of trying to break it like most other viltrumites would have done.

How odd, his tongue wasn’t smooth, it had little bumps across the surface. Not enough to be annoying, but enough to be felt against your own. It wasn’t as flexible or as long as your own either, the tip of your tongue easily tickling the back of his throat as Mark gagged, yet moaned at the feeling.

He was rubbing against you again, dragging his dripping length across your muscular stomach as Marks legs hooked around your hips. You had little experience in kissing, there was no need for it in your culture. You didn’t have intercourse for fun, it was only a process to breed and to dominate, but having Mark huff and pant into your mouth as he wiggled about let you see why humans were so obsessed with it.

“Let me show you what I meant” you mumble against his lips, giving the roof of his mouth a lick before pulling back, your lips almost twitching upwards at the way he tried to chase you. There were some flickers in his eyes, like Mark wasn’t sure what to do, his human and viltrumite nature battling between submitting to you, or fighting you again.

Pulling down what remained of your suit seemed to settle for him, as Mark laid back on his elbows to watch, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he saw… nothing. There was nothing there, but length of flesh, and no balls, it almost looked like the body of a ken doll.

“Confused, half breed?” you grumble, amusement clear in your voice, what looked like the starts of a very small smile on your lips. It took some focusing on your part, to manually let your slit split open, having to reach down and assist in pulling it open. You hadn’t had any use for it for a very long time, so it took a little for the prehensile length to slide out.

“W-what the hell is that” Mark choked out, eyes wide as he watched what had to be your dick slide out. It was a deep red, like your blood, except for the small bumps and blunt spikes clearly meant for hanging on to assist in breeding, but not to harm too much, they had a purple tinge to them.

Mark didn’t know if he should do, or how he should react, even if that warm hot honey-like feeling was telling him to simply lay back and let you take your price. You had won, after all. So, unless he wished to die, he better let you have your way with him.

“This is what the body of a true viltrumite looks like. And here I thought you were simply a pervert who cared not for politeness. But it turns out you simply can’t control it” you hum, letting your prehensile length curl around his, the soft bumps rubbing against his skin and making Mark gasp and pant again.

Mark was mostly limp as you sat back and pulled him into your lap, letting him wrap his arms and legs around you, since he wouldn’t be able to hurt you anyways. “Go on, Mark. Show me how your humans like it” you rumble into his head as Mark rubs his face against your shoulder, panting against the wound still present there. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but Mark still lapped at it with his strange tongue, as if trying to draw out any more of your powerful blood to wash against his tastebuds.

He moved like a man possessed, chasing his pleasure as he thrust into the writhing tube your own breeding appendage made, the half breed keening whenever those blunted soft spikes dug into the veins correctly. You got some pleasure out of it, sure, but it was nowhere near the amount Mark seemed to get as he moaned and whined. You didn’t find yourself annoyed by him though, simply letting him cling to you as you held him, letting him fuck himself as he craved.

Seeing his strange human-like appendage spill again was fascinating, your own length squeezing around his tighter to try and milk out more of it, making Mark whimper wetly against your neck. It seemed he needed time to rest between loads, how interesting.

It was a different experience for you, to sit there and simply hold another person, but the half blood clearly needed it, his scent all over the place and yearning for touch. It was only when you were sure he had returned to himself, at least somewhat, that you started drawing your own length back into your body.

Mark let out a noise, something high pitched and needy as he almost scrambled out your lap. The muscles in your torso tensed, ready for him to return to his blood thirsty haze, only for his mouth to descend onto your ribbed length. “W-what in the, what are you doing” you grunt, grabbing the back of his head, staring down at him with a hard expression.

“Do you guys… not have mouth stuff?” Mark questioned, his expression lax but confused, it reminded you a bit of those images you had seen of human dogs. “Mouth stuff?” you grunt, still not knowing what he meant. Was he trying to put your breeding shaft into his mouth? But why, there was no need for that, it didn’t assist in what it was there for. You were not shocked that humans had created something like this, with how obsessed they were with copulating.

“Let me show you, this time” Mark panted, a new determination flickering to life in his eyes as he wrapped his soft lips around one of your more vulnerable body parts. It sent a flash of heat up your spine, all the way up to your brain, sparks of pleasure coiling around inside your body. Maybe human ideas weren’t… too bad. You would have to study this, and you had an inkling that Mark wouldn’t be against helping you in your endeavours.

[fandomnerd9602]

Can you please make headcanons for Dupli-Kate with y/n who has viltrumite like powers?

Being a Viltrumite and Dating Kate…

Kate Cha / Dupli Kate x Hero!Reader Headcanons.

Background

Your mom was a rebel Viltrumite. She was Omni Man’s sister

Your mom met your dad, it was love at first sight. They had you.

Your mom didn’t see your father as some sort of pet. She saw him as her equal.

You of course grew up with your cousin Mark. The two of you discovered your superhuman abilities around the same time.

You quickly joined Teen Team and that’s how you met Kate Cha. Or as the world knows her Dupli Kate.

SFW

Kate was weary of you at first but she quickly began to trust you

With trust came love.

You show just as much love to the clones of Kate as you do to the OG

You make each duplicate feel like a loved and separate person rather than a mere extension of one.

Kate loves nose kisses. She giggles every time you give her one.

Certain duplicates of her are more possessive of you, wanting to just wrap their whole bodies around you.

Kate loves when you pick her up bridal style and take her flying. And then of course the duplicates get jealous.

You, unlike everyone else, keep track over which Kate is the OG and you guard her with your life.

You can take the hits and the punches but you could never do without her in your life.

The team calls you the Shield due to the fact that you shield every single duplicate of Kate. You’re fast enough and stronger enough to.

You help Kate keep herself grounded and sane. As she does the same for you.

Favorite date? Pizza parlor. You rent out the whole restaurant so her and her duplicates can enjoy one on one time with you.

PDA? Depends some duplicates love it, others just want you to hold them behind closed doors.

Kisses? Expect plenty.

Kate loves visiting your mom and dad on the family farm. Makes her feel normal and loved. She even left a few duplicates there to help out around the farm.

NSFW

Kate can get up to some mischievous and freaky stuff behind closed doors.

She summon two duplicates to hold your wrists to the bed as she crawls on top of you.

Expect multiple rounds of lovemaking. Kate and every duplicate of hers wants equal time and treatment with you. Due to your enhanced stamina, you’re more than happy to.

Loves taking showers with you afterwards.

Kink? Sensory play.

Dislikes? Anything painful.

Sometimes, Kate will go into a team meeting with the Guardians while you and a duplicate sneak off for some alone time.

Location? Depends. Each duplicate has their own preference. Some prefer the bed. Others are okay with a quick time in a supply closet.

Mark constantly jokes with you about being a player even though Kate is the only woman you’ve been with.

Kate Cha and all her duplicates are the lives of your life and with them, you feel invincible.

[midnightshindig]

Can you do familial hc’s/a drabble for the viltrumite reader trying to indoctrinate Oliver with the viltrumite mindset? Maybe Debbie finds out and tells Mark and he ends ups fighting the reader, you’re the best ✌️

Oliver & Viltrumite!Reader

Ooooooo you guys are angsty, I love it.

Fair warning, I hate writing fight scenes, so this is mostly just gonna be angst.

Tw for viltrumite ideology- which is like lowkey fascist and evil as hell. In today's political climate where we're like lowkey being ruled by Viltrumites, I urge you to take the necessary steps to interact with this work in a healthy manner, or not at all, however, is the best for your mental health <3 Remember to drink water and keep on keeping on.

As always, fic under the cut!

You had been living with the Graysons since you crashed onto the earth, with Nolan recognizing your clothing and insisting you stay with them.

Of course, he doesn't tell Debbie you're a Viltrumite but rather that you're an alien from a planet he once saved and that he wants to sponsor your citizenship on Earth.

Before this, however, he takes you aside and explains the situation: You cannot blow his cover no matter what, and you will be subordinate to him.

And you're quite young for a Viltrumite—not even a hundred years old yet, hovering in your 80s or 90s. Physically, you were barely in your mid to late teens.

So you're introduced into the family! Debbie takes a shine to you, excited to have another person to dote on when she isn't busy with work.

Mark is OBSESSED with you, in a cool "wow I'm a younger sibling now" kind of way

He's barely nine when you land, so he's got nine more years to get used to your presence.

before Nolan goes awol.

It's a year later and you're still staying with the Graysons

You'd been invited to join the Guardians but that meant blood tests and Cecil finding out what you were

a loyal Viltrumite preparing the Earth for colonization in Nolan's stead.

You couldn't wrap your head around why he freaked out like he did, but you're not surprised Mark rejected joining him.

No... Mark was a lost cause

It would be sad, but he would have to see the error of his ways.... or die...

The thought saddened you greatly. And you'd already made arrangements to have Debbie kept somewhere.

Yes, it was a little inhumane, but at least she could be kept, Mark couldn't...

But those weren't the only people in the household, you'd recently gained a new addition to your happy little family.

Another alien, a purple baby, Oliver, as Debbie calls him, half-Viltrumite and half-Thraxan.

You, unlike Debbie and Mark, understand that his viltrumite blood will dominate the rest of his DNA

this baby is basically full Viltrumite.

Maybe there's hope after all.

Indoctrination-- education, as you call it-- is slow

Mainly pointed children's book lessons during story time

Things come to a head when Oliver ages into his elementary school years

"Y/n, why can't Dad come back?"

He asks you on day, fist gripping the fabric of your pants as he looks up at you with bleary eyes

It's a question he knows he shouldn't ask, and one he's too scared to ask his mother or Mark

but you've never been rude or quiet about him, you were the only person he felt he could talk to about such things

You picked him up, resting him on your hip, and poking the middle of his chest playfully

"Oliver- you know he's stuck in space jail! He's essentially in time out, for not following directions and being super mean to the people of Earth!" You smile candidly, eliciting a smaller smile from Oliver

"But-" he starts, looking around "What did he do that was so bad? Mark and Mom say that he killed a lot of people, and that he wanted to take over the world!!" He threw his arms up in the air for emphasis, but the gravity of his question was sincere

You thought for a minute before continuing "Well... Oliver... Your dad, and my dad are from the same place. I'm actually part Viltrumite, like you!" You smiled, this was a lie, you were full Viltrumite, but he didn't need to know you'd been fully lying to his family.

"And Viltrumites are a lot like your Mom, when she says to do something, you gotta listen, or else there'll be bad consequences" You nodded sagely "The Viltrumites's told your Dad to help Earth, and get it ready, and keep it safe so when the Viltrumites got here, they could keep it safe and make everything better!"

You heard a soft, stifled gasp, and looked to the doorway

It was Debbie, who had dropped the bags of groceries she and Mark had been out getting.

I guess they were back.

Standing behind her was Mark, wide eyed and confused, you'd never seen him so conflicted.

And you looked over at Oliver, still perched on your hip, staring with you at the rest of your family

Like a kid who'd been caught hearing a bad secret.

"You're... the whole time-" Debbie placed a hand on her forehead to support herself, looking between you and the carpet "You never told us."

A pang of guilt. You may be the superior life form, but she'd fed and protected you since you came to Earth. You didn't want her to be upset with you.

"Debbie I-" you started, before Mark-- entirely too wound up by the last year of his life-- cut you off

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?! YOU can't- Oliver come here." He took a step towards you, and Oliver flew in front of you, throwing his arms open to protect you

The room went quiet as everyone stared at Oliver, protecting you from Mark, in his own sad, too big for his body way

Mark calmed down a bit, approaching still

"Oliver, I need to have a grown-up conversation with Y/n. Go with Mom-"

"Mark!" Debbie hissed, not wanting to leave the conversation

But the look of pleading Mark gave her caused her to reconsider

She sighed, and held a hand out to Oliver

Oliver, in turn, looked at you with his big, puppy dog eyes

"Are we in trouble?"

oof. You ruffled his hair "You go with your Mom, now, okay? And listen to her, but remember what I told you."

Oliver nodded slowly, before joining his Mother and being led into the living room.

Mark exploded, throwing his arms in the air like a frustrated kid

"You were a viltrumite this whole time?! You lied to me- you lied to all of us!"

"Not Nolan." you corrected pointedly "And it's not your business, I don't owe you anything!"

"You do when you take advantage of us, of my mom! And when you spread your awful world view to a CHILD." He got closer, pointing his finger into your sternum

"Mark. I am not a child in need of scolding." You hovered above him, raising yourself above him "I know you don't see the point in what me and your father tried to accomplish, and the mission I inherited when he left, but you're not the boss."

He glared at you, still hurt and confused

"and what about me and mom? Are we like pets to you too?" You had just become a vicious enemy, and he could only think of the betrayal he felt

You were his older sibling. You'd taught him how to drive (after Nolan had taught you, it was a very similar process to driving your spacecraft on Viltrum)

You were the one who drove him to his first school dance- you helped him with his homework- you helped him with his powers after Nolan left-

...

Mark, in all his confusion and distress, could taste peanut butter in the roof of his mouth, fondly remembering all the days you and him were left to your own devices while his mom and dad went somewhere fancy for lunch, and you'd make him a pb&j

at first it was because you didn't know how to make anything else- they weren't big on individuals knowing how to cook on your home planet

but it had become a treasured memory.

"Did being my sibling mean nothing?"

His words softened you as your soles hit the carpet, reaching forward to put a hand on his shoulder

"Mark... of course not. I love you, and I love Debbie just as much as I do my own mother." you remembered your mother, a faceless vague woman who you hadn't seen since you were a small child Oliver's age "Probably more than my mother, in fact."

You sighed, pinching your nose "Nolan wanted you to see the way of things, but he's too harsh. He wants to be good at his job, he's one of the best soldiers Viltrum had, and for good reason. But he gets carried away, and fails to see the room for compromise."

You paused, folding your arms "Yes, we're going to take over Earth, and yes, a lot of people will die in resisting their betterment, but- Mark, those people will die anyways. In wars of their own or in enslavement of their own or global warming or any number of things."

"We take things over to ultimately make the world a better place, as opposed to what? Cecil? Who would trade human lives for a greater good any day, or what- The first supervillain to figure out how to take you all down? Would you subject Oliver to a world in which Doc Seismic runs things? As opposed to my people? Our people?"

Your words stung, and Mark had nothing to say to it but to keep staring at you with indignation and hurt

"And Oliver.. Mark- the boy is purple. And on earth that's a problem, Debbie spends so much money and time painting him just so she can take him to the grocery store. He's not socialized, he's not disciplined, he isn't happy. That's why he asks about his Dad so often. On Viltrum, he wouldn't be ostracized, he'd be studied and tested, and befriended by Viltrum children he could grow with and push to become stronger. he'd have a rigorous education and an incredible life, don't you want that for him? For yourself?"

You smiled coyly "The women on Viltrum tend to be quite gorgeous, a rarity. BUT, they only go out with other VIltrumites, so you've got a good shot."

Your attempt to lighten the mood failed, and Mark twitched in his inability to do anything

What was he going to do? punch you through the wall of your room? Throw your body through the corkboard of family photos taken over the years, maybe smash you through the desk littered in your small artistic creations, the little paper puppets you made for him and now made for Oliver? The scrapbook children's books you had made to tell stories of far-off places?

No. No he couldn't do that. He didn't have it in him. He felt just like how his dad had felt, knowing he needed to do something, but he couldn't kill you. He just. Couldn't.

You felt much the same about him, you knew you were stronger than him, but he was your baby brother.

You always knew he was going to have to get real or die, but you never thought it'd be you doing it.

"I... I...."

Mark watched you intensely, waiting for anything to happen.

"I'm gonna go."

Before Mark could say anything, you pushed open your window and flew off, with Mark too stunned to follow you.

Moments later, Debbie and Oliver came back into the room

"where's Y/n?" Oliver asked, picking up a puppet dragon from your desk and fidgeting with it

Debbie looked at Mark, her eyes begging the same question

"They're uh...." He didn't know what to say, because he didn't know "They're going away for a while. Probably."

The house felt so much emptier now.

Too big for a three person family meant to be a five person family.

[tlouglazer]

i’m gooning

[nana-au]

thinking about an alternate mark whose first and only objective in the invincible war is to get to you. you were his first love - his only love, and he's missed you desperately...

in your universe you were too nervous to make a move and now it's too late since mark and eve are basically meant for each other... so when chaos hits and all the invincible variants come to wreak havoc and mark rushes to make sure you're safe, you don't understand why he's not out there saving the world with eve.

you're in his suffocating embrace when you ask him this and he stiffens briefly, before pulling away to look down at you. his eyes so full of adoration and he asks: "who's eve?"

[zeecriter]

Invincible p!links·˚ ༘ P2

WARNING ➤ Pornographic content mdni! The links all have afab/feminine bodies except maskless mark, do not open in public.

Sinister Mark

Fucking you into the sofa

He loves choking you

bought this skirt just for this

Can’t run away anymore

Main! Mark Grayson

Literally like rabbits (LOADS)

Sock on the door

Virgin! Best friend!Mark who wanted to try something with you

He WANTS you carrying his kid

Full mask Mark

Breeding you full with his babies

Stroking him

Short cunnilingus vid

Got him all tied up

Mohawk Mark

Do y’all see that bulge?? Definitely the way he’d fuck you

How he’d eat his princess out

Normal au!Mohawk mark after taking a drive in his car with you. Couldn’t wait till you got home huh?

His own fleshlight

Viltrumite mark

The eye contacttt

After a long day of viltrum work

Morning sexxx!!

His maid looked hotter today, especially in that skimpy dress you wore.

Maskless mark(MLM)

Riding him in your dorm

You two both got horny while hanging out

Bottom! Mark

Seeing stars

Omni-Mark

loves tasting you

You were a brat in this universe too he had to handle it!

He loves the feeling of your gushy walls clenching around his fingers

You were so desperate to cum :(

Rex Sloan

You play way too much video games

Devouring your pussy

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ NOTE ➤ sorry guys I released this sooo late! The next part of the invincible p!links are going to be revolved around threesomes! If you guys want other p!links with different media I’ll be happy to do it. I want to do a jujutsu kaisen list but I want to see what y’all want first.

[swightops]

"in every dimension, Mark Grayson falls for you, but not this one."

Shit, you think. Between all the blood and smoke, you weren't sure if colors could be vibrant anymore. No matter how many people you got to safety or buildings you stopped from falling, there was always more.

More screams, more buildings falling, more dead bodies, more chaos.

"You know, all this blood and fire makes you look so much more pretty," a voice teases. You turn, and for a split second, relief floods you before it quickly replaces itself with apprehension. Mark floats there, but he's different; he's not Mark. His hair is parted into a mohawk, and there's something else. This Mark's eyes are rabid, obsessed, and watching you like you're some type of prize.

You try not to show your apprehension, but it's hard when Mark looks at you like that—like the way he looks at Eve. "Confused, huh?" Mark teases, and he softly lands on the ground, only a couple of feet away from you. "From what I've heard, you and I aren't together in this universe. Lameass me is with Eve. So stupid," Mark says, rolling his eyes at the end. "Can't be too surprised though! This world's me is so lame and weak."

Mark goes on and on about how your world's Mark is a sniveling, weak piece of shit, but you stopped listening. You and Mark are together in a different world.

A gust of wind makes you whip around as another Mark appears before you. But like the one with a mohawk, this one isn't your world's Mark. His suit is different, a mesh of white and gray, and no mask to be found. But like the other Mark, he's staring at you like that.

"Ugh! Couldn't give us a moment alone, could you, asshole!" Mohawk Mark complains, his eyebrows furrowed, and lips pulled into a sneer. The other Mark, the one in white and gray, doesn't acknowledge the complaints and insults thrown his way. Instead, his eyes lock onto yours, and you freeze up as he steps closer to you.

"You don't look any different," is all he says before his fingers hover over your cheek. It's wrong, it's so wrong, the way your heart beats a little faster, how your cheeks flush, and how desperately you want to lean into his warmth. Mark, this Mark in front of you, has killed countless people and caused so much damage that the aftercount might be in the hundreds of thousands.

You don't get a second to react before there's another gust of wind, and yet another Mark stands there. His suit colors are now yellow and black instead of black and dark blue. His yellow cape flows behind him, and a twisted grin pulls at his face.

"y/nnnnnn," Mark calls for you, and you hate how it sounds so right, so good. Mohawk Mark and the one right next to you turn to the other one, and a split silence passes before you're dragged up into the air.

Instinctively, you push away before arms are holding yours behind your back. "Let go!" you yell, your arms straining against Mark's.

"No wayyyy, babe," the Mark with a yellow cape says, coming closer to you, his fingers twirling a curl of your hair.

"Can we just get this over with?" Mohawk Mark says, and your heart drops to your stomach as fast as it's beating.

"We're not going to hurt you," the Mark holding you says, his voice deep and his hold tightening.

"Could have fooled me," you finally say, and the two Marks in front of you laugh. The one twirling your hair stops before squishing your cheeks together and laughing again as you struggle to pull your face out of his hold.

"Still a little firecracker like I remember," he says, and you freeze. Were you with this Mark in his universe as well? And the one behind? Was the universe so cruel that you and Mark were together in every other universe except this one? The one where you chickened out of telling you how you felt, and now he was with Eve.

"Don't worry, pretty. This world's Mark is stupid enough to not make you his, but we aren't."

[invoncible]

I’d love to see Invincible!variants meeting OG reader with powers/super strong because in their world, their reader is normal. I’d like to see their reaction when they’re expecting someone weak and then they suddenly fly off or get decked in the face!

INVINCIBLE VARIANTS & reader who can put them in their place ✧˚. ft. nogoggles!mark, mohawk!mark, viltrumite!mark, the surviving 8 cw. canon typical violence

— this is so funny ily nonnie but uhh rereading this i feel like i lost the plot, hope u enjoy nonetheless lol <3 ! — reader is with MAIN!mark & has scarlet witch type powers

when multiple versions of your boyfriend were zipping around the planet causing indescribable amounts of destruction, you were a little confused. all of these guys... were mark? what mark could've been if things went a little different?

you held back a little when fighting them because they had the face of the boy you loved so much, but after seeing them in action... they had to go.

you were flying beside your mark, the only good one apparently, when cecil barked in your ear.

"y/n, i need you." your comm buzzed to life with cecil's instructions.

"kinda busy, cecil." you muttered under your breath.

"please, i know you're done with me. i know both of you are. but don't turn your back on the people who're in danger."

"what does he want?" your mark snapped, the distaste evident on his face.

"help." you answered him with a sigh, your moral compass guilting you into seeing where you were needed. you promised mark you'd be back soon.

"just tell me where the problem is." you shot back at cecil.

NOGOGGLES!MARK

"i need you at guardians' HQ."

you narrowed your eyes in concern. "the guardians are down?"

"it's a batshit crazy version of mark, what do you think?"

you rolled your eyes and rerouted your flight path to guardians' base. within minutes you warped right in the middle of the action.

"what the fuck..." you whispered in horror. kate and her duplicates were out, shapesmith was ripped in half—immortal was the only one still going and even he was struggling.

"nice, they sent someone else!" mark stopped immortal's punch nonchalantly with one hand, grinning down at you from where he hovered in the air. he squinted then gasped, throwing immortal to the ground.

"y/n? why would they send you?" he floated down to you, approaching you like a wild animal.

"you know me?" you stalled, eyes darting around your periphery to make sure that the others were at least alive.

"do i know you?" he laughed, figuring that was a good enough answer to your question. he circled around you with an approving hum. "aww, you playing dress up? i like this color on you—"

activating your power, your tendrils of chaos magic snaked around his body, picking him up and throwing him across the room. you flew to where he landed, lifting the debris of his prior battle telekinetically and sending the slabs of concrete crashing into his body.

your feet touched down on the ground as you walked calmly towards his fallen body squirming under the projectiles. he shot up and out of the pile of rocks with a feral grin on his face.

"holy shit. you're nothing like my y/n." he set his fists and accelerated towards you.

you stopped him with the raise of your hand. his punch stuttered in time and space as he tried his hardest to push past your power and land a good one. you ducked under him, yanking at his ankle and slamming him to the ground so hard he bounced.

"yes," he chuckled lowly, wiping the blood dripping on his chin. "yes. can i take you home with me?"

"no."

"i'll fight you for it," he stood up, rolling his neck. you cringed when you heard the cacophony of cracks that followed. "wanna fight me for it?"

"s'not gonna be much of a fight." you smiled, shifting your weight before taking off again, gaining altitude and using your power as a jet engine to collide your leg with his face.

to your shock and horror, he just stood there and took it with a smile, his body skipping across the floor like a rock over a lake .

"oh..." he grinned, sliding to a stop and licking the blood off his teeth. "oh. i love you."

you blinked in confusion, tilting your head. your body warmed as you channeled your power again, a ball of energy accumulating over your palm. "i'm... going to kill you."

"i know!" he laughed, punching his fist into his palm as he got hyped up again. "that's the best part."

"you're actually enjoying this." you meant it as a question, but there was no room for debate. this mark was 100% delighted by the fact you were trying to kill him.

mark swayed on his feet, blood dribbling from his split lip. his breathing was uneven—you couldn't tell if it was from exertion or excitement—and of course that fucking grin was still there.

"you’re so fun," he groaned, licking his teeth. "i love my y/n, but i bet they could learned a thing or two from you—"

you didn’t let him finish. with a flick of your wrist, your energy surged forward, wrapping around his throat. his words choked off into a strangled gasp as you lifted him into the air.

"i'm not them," you said, voice steady even as you watched him gasp for air.

then, with a sharp twist—you snapped his neck. his body dropped to the floor, limp. you stared for a second, waiting for any signs of movement. nothing. finally, you let out a breath and turned away.

"ugh..."

you froze and spun around. his voice was wet, choked with laughter.

"you're not making it easy to stay away from you."

MOHAWK!MARK

"the penitentiary. prison's getting ransacked."

you were at the scene within the minute, zapping into existence just to see mark with a fuckass mohawk fighting off some heroes tasked with taking him in. they were unsuccessful of course, as when you arrived they were in piles of limbs and blood on the concrete.

his eyes flickered to you, widening in recognition. "y/n..?"

you raised your eyebrow. guess he knew you, or a version of you in his world. it didn't matter to you.

he lit up and tossed a severed hand to the side. "oh, hey!" he walked towards you. "what're you doing here, babe? i know you love when i go crazy but this is a biiiiit dangerous—"

you restricted his movement, pulling him towards you with your magic. you squeezed and squeezed until you heard his breath hitch. "i'm not your y/n."

"yeah, i can see that." he crooned, feigning an impressed tone. "you got a little power now? if you wanted me close, you don't have to be rough. just ask. i'm happy with any version of you." he failed to hide his little grunt, squirming in your hold.

if your grimace was any indication of your sentiment, he didn't take it to heart. he took it as motivation. he broke through your magic, pummeling through the air towards you. unfazed, you slapped him off course with a bolt of magic. he crashed into the wall with a groan.

mark stood up, the dust and rocks falling off his back. "my y/n was a sweetheart."

"i can be sweet," you mumbled more to yourself, brows furrowing as you strategized how to finish him off quickly.

"just not for me, though." mark grinned. "i see how it is. is it the hair?"

"kinda." your eyes flickered up to his hair and you couldn't stop the little smile on your face. all you could think about was your mark with that style. it worked on him, not that you'd admit it.

you picked him up and slammed him down, picked him up and slammed him down again, over and over until he was hanging limp in the air.

satisfied, you synthesized restraints from imagination and fastened them over him. you barely climbed out of the sunken crater you carved with his body when he coughed up blood, eyes fluttering.

you pressed a finger to your ear. "cecil, send someone else to bring this guy in. i've got to get back."

"you just gonna throw me around and leave?" he scoffed, words slurring together from the beating.

"someone's gonna take you in, and you're gonna tell us everything about how you got here." you sigh and barely spare him a glance over your shoulder.

"i won't talk." he sang teasingly.

"you will."

"i'll do it maybe if you come a little closer." he egged you on, a stupid little smirk on his face. "got something real special to say to you."

"shut up."

he groaned petulantly and started to push against your magical binds.

"stay." you narrowed your eyes.

his eyes darted up to yours, staring for a moment before huffing a short laugh. he leaned back against the caved-in pavement, man-spreading and getting comfy against the slope. "yes, ma'am."

VILTRUMITE!MARK

"he's off fighting spawn. the poor guy's probably already dead."

"got it."

"watch out for this one, y/n, he's..." cecil sucked in a breath. "i dunno. full viltrumite indoctrination?"

"i can handle him." you reassured him before phasing over to the variant's location.

you watched as he ripped the hero apart, flying him into the highway below for good measure. you soared down behind him, saving all the cars that were launched from the road and setting them down at a safe distance.

mark watched as the cars were gently rescued. he turned around like he had all the time in the world and looked pained upon seeing you.

"please no." he sighed softly. "they shouldn't have sent you."

"why not?" you humored him, stepping gracefully over the rubble.

"i won't stop all this. not even for you, my love."

"i'm not your y/n..." you pursed your lips, getting a faint sense of deja vu. you felt like you said this a few times already.

"don't worry, it'll be over soon. why don't you wait all this out—"

you teleport before he can finish, reappearing behind him mid-air. a surge of energy coils around your hands as you slam a concussive blast into his back. he stumbles forward, muscles tensing from the impact.

he spun around in a flash, hand gripping your throat as he shoves you back-first into the nearest building. the collision sent shockwaves rippling through the complex, glass shattering, debris crumbling to the ground.

"cute tricks." he breathed against your ear. "this is new. but don't make me fight you."

you stabbed your fingers into his pressure points, channeling your power through his nerves. his grip faltered for a fraction of a second, enough time for you to flip, plant your feet on his chest, and kick him off you.

mark spiraled back, barely catching himself mid-air. he wipes the blood from his lip from being effectively electrocuted, chest rising and falling.

"join me," he whispered, watching you in awe. "join me. we can rule the universe together."

"the fact that you think you can ask that and get a good answer proves that you don't know me at all."

"i do."

"you don't."

"we could have everything." he floats towards you. "power. control. be reasonable, won't you?"

you phase behind him again, placing one hand on his back and charging up your energy. he tries to turn around, but you're a second faster, releasing the pent-up force directly into him. mark grimaces in pain as the blast sends him spiraling into the air, flipping and tumbling before crashing into the ground below with a deafening thud.

you crashed onto the ground, unwilling to let him have another opportunity to get up. he saves you the trouble and holds a hand up in surrender.

"i won't fight you." he says simply.

you shake your head incredulously. "it's not a choice."

"i'll come find you when this is all over." he dismissed you easily, walking off your attacks.

"what—?"

he took off at supersonic speed, leaving you in the dust.

THE SURVIVORS

"they're all hovering over mark's house."

"what?! is—"

"debbie and oliver are fine. they're safe elsewhere." cecil cut you off.

you groaned and teleported over to mark's house. unfortunately, they were in your usual spot, hovering over the roof. you hung there in the air for a split second before they all pounced on you.

"we can't all have a y/n, can we?" full mask mark exclaimed, being the first to grab you and spin away from the group with you hidden safely behind him. "i'm taking them and mom back with me."

"you lost mom and y/n?" omnimark shook his head, like a father disappointed in a child. "how can you be trusted with this one?"

you narrowed your eyes. "i'm literally right here—"

"shut the fuck up." prison mark snapped at full mask mark, pushing past omnimark and jabbed a finger at the soft one of the bunch. "i'm tired of your bitching and whining. keep mom, i guess, i don't fuckin' care. but give 'em back."

"i hate you guys." sighed omnimark.

"who said you were getting them?" unmasked mark scoffed and crossed his arms.

"no one's getting me." you broke up the fight, momentarily forgetting that they were all mass murderers just cuz they had your pretty boyfriend's face.

"yeah, cuz you'd rather settle for that stupid fucking mark from this world."

"why'd you say his name like it's a slur?" you deadpanned. "aren't you all technically mark?"

"we're getting off topic." omnimark held out a hand to calm the congregation. "for what it's worth, i have my y/n safe and sound back home—"

"oh for fuck's sake."

© invoncible

[pastelclovds]

invincible is dragging me back by the ankles

thinking about a human!reader who has lived a pretty decent, normal existence. at least, as normal as it could be with all the hero's trying to exterminate world ending threats daily, and leaving major cities in ruins afterwards. the death of the guardians made the threats worsen over time.

one day, as you were taking your usual midnight stroll, you were stopped by the one and only, omni-man. his only excuse? he said and i quote.

“human, it has come to my attention that you’re releasing strange, aphrodisiacal pheromones; and it has become a problem for me.”

you blink once, twice, thrice, and you’re eyes widened as you finished processing his sentence. you were releasing sexy pheromones?? where was it during your days in college? your vision on omni-man’s flushed face trails down to his pelvic region, where his ragging boner was making itself known beneath his suit.

cue to nolan dragging you to an empty alleyway, stripping you both butt naked, and riding you until you left his hole gaping and filled to the brim with your cum. he let out an uncharacteristic, longing moan as he painted your chest in white.

turns out he’s been wanting you for a while ever since he first caught whiff of your scent that one afternoon a week ago as he was defeating a kaiju.

as for the “aphrodisiacal pheromones” you seem to unknowingly release daily: it only seems to affect nobody else but nolan. you don’t have a problem with it though, as long as you continue to fuck the number one super “hero,” you don’t need anything else.

that’s until mark appears before you with an embarrassed grin and a hard on of his own. then his other variants appeared like beasts in heat, and now conquest. yeah, you’re a viltramite magnet.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Okay okay but like, how do you feel about Mark x William x Reader? How do you think that’d be, Gator? 👀🙏

Mark Grayson x William Clockwell x Viltrumite male reader 

Headcanons 

Reader is a fellow viltrumite, cuz I had a request asking for William x viltrumite reader but it's just... gone, I can't find it in my inbox, but I know it was there. So, enjoy. 

Make reader the son of Thragg, just for angst and power purposes. Maybe he's a bit rebellious, by viltrumite standards. But its entertaining, so Thragg lets him live and grow up. Also, cuz reader is clearly the strongest offspring he's sired. 

Reader is older than Ursaal and Onaan, but not old enough to stay getting wrinkles and all that. 

Maybe this rebellious nature makes him go to earth, because “stop trying to control my life dad” that people go through.  

Earth is supposed to have been colonized or whatever, so Thragg just lets him. Plus, readers one of the strongest viltrumites and the strong can do whatever they want, ya know? 

I feel this would take place sometime after season one, but before everything started truly going insane. Or more insane than Nolan killing the guardians and all that. 

So, William and Mark are in college together, they are roommates. Mark wouldn't be with Amber anymore, or their relationship isn't really going anywhere. And William wouldn't be with Rick. 

I like to think the reader is smart enough to hide his viltrumite affiliation when he gets to earth. Plus, he's rebellious and it's not like his dad is here, so he shaves his moustache and he steals some clothes somewhere out in the galaxy. 

How the reader gets to earth and meets them for the first time is up in the air. It could be many ways, but at this point the GDA aren't as extreme as they become later on, and Mark is still on good terms with them. 

It probably becomes a deal that Mark has to keep an eye on you, since you are some great unknown and you are clearly strong. They have no idea how strong, but you aren't breaking a sweat when you help out doing hero work. 

You may be your father's favorite child, but you also know what it's like to suffer under his fist. To mold you into the kind of warrior he wants you to be, his eyes shining with pride when you always survive and come back stronger. 

The memory makes you sick, always has. Like something inside you always knew it was wrong and disgusting, what the viltrumites were doing. But when it's all you have ever known, then you just go along with it. 

Earth is a breath of fresh air, and though Mark is very wary of you, he still introduces you to how things work around here. 

And yeah, Mark may be a half-breed, but he is still attractive, in his own weird way. Hes not strong, at least he is nothing impressive, but he never backs down. Its admirable somehow. 

He makes you feel warm inside in a way you aren't used too. You care for your younger siblings in some kind of way, like, you don't want them to die, but you also wouldn't die for them. 

What you start feeling for Mark is stranger, warmer and passionate. It makes you angry and annoyed because it feels like a weakness. 

During this time, Mark would also have broken up with Amber if they hadn't already. Insert him having a whole gay/bi awakening because holy shit... he's feeling stuff for you of all people. 

When he has a conversation with William about his panic, it also clicks that what he feels for you, Mark also feels for William. He gets really awkward for a while, and William knows him enough to know something is up. 

Honestly, I think William and Mark would get together first. Like Mark would be pacing the room, flushed in the face, rambling about you, but then end up talking about William. 

William, who I believe has always had a bit of a torch for Mark would be stunned, but also knows he needs to act now before Mark loses all confidence. So, the two kiss, and end up fumbling through confessions and feelings and all that. 

Insert them falling back on one of their beds and just making out, touching and groping. They don't go further than that, Mark isn't ready, but afterwards William would joke about needing to meet you too. 

Meeting you would be an accident, throwing all their plans into the trash. Some villain shows up, and you end up saving William's life before Mark even gets to change and arrive as invincible. 

Insert William looking reader up and down and going “I see what you mean” to Mark. 

Imagine that you can smell that William and Marks are connected so you compliment mark on his “worthy choice of a mate”. It feels like a compliment even when worded like that, so they both feel a little flushed about it. 

In some way, you end up spending a lot more time with Mark and William, even outside of costume. I don't see you applying for college or anything, since you don't have a legal identity, but you spend time with them on the regular. 

When William starts making you feel all kinds of feelings in your chest, you want to go punch something or someone again. It feels like a massive weakness and you don't like it. 

Yalls confessions for each other would start because you accuse them of doing something to you, like poisoning you.  

You are about ready to kill them for this perceived threat, but also because you don't like feeling something so new and strange, it's scary. 

Then William would try to rationalize it and have you explain what they've done, and so starts you spilling all these strange weird feelings they make you feel. How they make your heart race, your hands clammy, how you feel unsteady even why you fly. It has to be a personal attack, right? 

Even as you get more worked up about it, Mark and William just start smiling and flushing, because it's so endearing to see you pace and try to understand all this. It also means a lot that you feel the same that they do. 

Just insert Mark going “hey, dude” and stopping your angry pacing with a hand on your shoulder. When you turn to glare at Mark, William would jump up and kiss your cheek and be all like “what you're feeling isn't poison, stupid. Its feelings. You know, the ones in there?” and poke your chest. 

You end up needing them to explain this whole dating culture on earth, what you are feeling, why it's okay, and that yes, they feel the same. Then you also get the conversation about descrimination, because they both know what will happen when they are open about the relationship. 

This results in them having to stop you from flying out and threatening the entire world with destruction if they don't accept lgbt+ and other minorities. William would say something like “we appreciate it big guy, but let's not destroy the planet, okay?” and kiss the readers chin. 

A relationship with those two can be a bit wild sometimes. There might also be some insecurity in the reader of not fitting their dynamic, since they've been friends for so long. 

Your sweet boyfriends, as earth don't call it mates, are just... so soft and kind. It makes your teeth ache sometimes. 

Like when Mark arrives with flowers for both you and William, or when he somehow shapes a cloud into a heart when you guys go patrolling. 

William is so affectionate in a way you aren't used too. You were left speechless when he shoves you down on the bed and straddles you, a smirk on his face as he gets comfortable. 

All the kissing has also left you reeling. They do it all the time, they run their tongues together for fun, and not for battle. They have to teach you how to kiss, because “as much as I love being devoured, this is too much babe” 

When the time comes when your father sends Anissa, you chase her off by force. When its Conquest, you are able to keep up with him and stake claim on this planet. 

And when the time comes to battle your father, because that time will come, you are ready to die for your beloveds.  

[tokoyamisstuff]

Random thought how good do you think each invincible variant would be at eating 😺 is there any of them who would be an actual munch

18+ explicit content

Sis, don't- it's not worth it...

Other variants under the cut!

Omnivincible is more skilled than most of them. I just feel like he's got a mature approach and wouldn't just mindlessly delve in like some horny teenager.

He'd take his sweet time, enjoying himself without necessarily wanting something in return. In general he takes great pride in causing you pleasure. Is also pretty creative. After all his strenght allows him to eat you out in positions you didn't even know were possible.

Thought you can only come once at a time? He'll prove you otherwise.

Movincihawk constantly brags about his 'superior technique' but at the bottom line he's not all that good at it, sorry.

It's not like he isn't skilled, but he's pretty selfish and impatient. Any kind of foreplay is not a priority for him in general, he likes to go straight to the point.

Fucks pretty well to make up for it though.

Sinister Mark acts like he's doing you a favor, but with how eager he buries himself between your legs it's evident to say he enjoys this as much - if not even more than - you.

This man pins your thighs apart and eats you out like a man starving. Your taste drives him fucking crazy, so yes it could happen that he bites down harder than he intended to.

Likes to eat you out on your period. No I will not elaborate.

Striped/Target Invincible is super vocal during the whole thing. His grunts and groans vibrate against your folds, he doesn't even notice the effect you have on him.

Hope you're ready for the whole range of dirty talk, mostly degrading but occasionally throwing in words of acknowledgement. Tells you how this is your place - beneath him, completely at his mercy.

Uses his fingers better than his tongue, but is fairly good at both. The combination will send you straight to heaven.

No Goggles Invincible is probably the biggest tease on the entire planet.

This man will push you to your absolute limits, reducing you to a whining, moaning, begging puddle of lust. But he's got no mercy, prolonging your sweet torture for as long as he can - you're only allowed to cum if he says you're done.

With him the thin line between pain and pleasure is blurred into a mixture of pure overstimulation, but goddamn it's worth it.

Viltrumite Mark isn't familiar with earth's customs of intimacy. In their culture, canonically, they solely have sex for procreation. Though we never saw Debbie complaining about Nolan either, so I'm confident he can learn.

Gets the hang of it pretty fast, and quickly grows insateable with this new form of closeness he never got to experience before. He's an absolute mess, almost breaking the bedframe as he pathetically humps the mattress, wanting more more more of you.

Needs lots of cuddles and to be told he did a good job afterwards, pretty please.

Prisoner Mark was in solitary confinement for over a year - prepare to be destroyed. R.I.P.

He'll dive in between your legs and won't leave this place until he's got his fill of you, which could take him a while so get cozy.

Not an inch of your body is left untouched, as if he intents to memorize every detail, just in case you'd slip from his grasp once again.

Be prepared to cum until your body gives up. Man's got to make up for the time he spent away from you.

Unmasked Mark is very gentle, almost cautious in his efforts as if you were a fragile flower one needed to properly care for or it'd wither. He still can't fully believe you're here with him, so he's extra anxious about doing something wrong.

You'll slowly and sensually be guided towards your orgasm, his eyes never leaving yours as he reverently observes your every reaction.

Expect some premium aftercare!

Fully Masked Invincible knows you inside and out, has memorized all the weak spots that make you sing for him. He is completely and utterly devoted to your pleasure, maybe even a little too eager in his efforts since he tends to forget himself in the process.

To him your body is a temple meant for worship, so you'd relentlessly get showered in praise and compliments while he explores your body.

Will initiate at every given opportunity, but never pushes it. He just wants to make you happy, really!

[salthusiast]

Who you truly are

Viltrumite Mark x Female Reader

Summary: When the Invincible variants arrived on Earth, you never expected to get involved. It’s not like you knew Invincible personally. What you didn’t know was that you’d ended up housing one of these variants, and you didn’t know for weeks. Basically Viltrumite Mark pretends to be the Mark you know.

Word Count: 5.1k

Next parts: 2 , 3

Warnings: None! Maybe some violence, but if you watched the show, it’s basically nothing. Maybe slight ooc? In my defense this guy is pretending to be another person though.

Quick A/N: Hey, this is actually my first post on Tumblr so sorry if the formatting is weird or anything. Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :D

Life was so much simpler when you didn’t know. Who knew that in a singular month, your life would change so much? You could lie and say that you expected it to happen, but again that'd be a lie. Hell, even now you can barely believe the course of events that went down.

Sometimes you think about how many others got hurt during the war and its aftermath. You were so oblivious. You think about how he spared you like he did.

--------------------------

“Mark! Eve!” You call out, waving your hand to your friends across the hallway. Mark stops in his tracks, along with Eve.

Mark is more of your friend than Eve is, but you get along with her well. You walk purposefully to Mark, feeling like he may disappear if you take too long to get to him. It seems like he disappears all the time now.

“I haven’t seen you recently. Where have you been?” You approach him smiling.

Mark shares an indecipherable look with Eve, and chuckles awkwardly, “Around… You know, I’ve been busy with… stuff.” He says gesturing to his backpack. You raise an eyebrow seeing his backpack filled with books. 

“Studying? You? My, we really haven’t talked in a while. The last time we all hung out, you bailed halfway through.” You smile teasingly, not truly mad, but more concerned than anything.

He grimaces, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just been so hectic lately.” He looks over at Eve once again, she seems to empathize with whatever Mark is going through. You can’t help but feel… insignificant.

Mark was once one of your closest friends. What happened for them to grow so close? You can’t even bring yourself to be mad, Eve seems to understand him way more than you ever could.

Perhaps at one point, you would have felt different about that truth, but Mark as your friend is more important.

“Woah!” You chuckle, “It’s okay, really. I just want to make sure you aren’t, ya know, dead.” You smile, jokingly gesturing to your neck as if it was slit. He smiles and shakes his head, “Nope! Still kicking. I’ll be around for a while.” He glances at Eve, who seems to find what he said extra funny.

You laugh, “Yeah huh... Hey, I was wondering if you’d wanna hang out with us sometime soon. You, William, me, maybe one of my friends? Serena perhaps?” You raise a finger for each person you talk about. “Eve is free to join us too of course.” You smile at her, which she returns in good nature. 

Mark nods, “Yeah, I’ll make time for it. It’s been a minute since we’ve all hung out. Eve, would you wanna join?” Mark asks, turning to Eve.

“Sure. It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out as a group. I look forward to it.” She smiles at you. “I should be busy for a bit, but I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

You smile, “Great! That works for me!” You start to walk off before you stop abruptly and turn around. “You know we’re always here right?” You look at Mark and glance at Eve. He smiles back, but it looks more like a grimace. 

”Of course.” Suddenly he stands up straight. “Oh shoot I gotta go.” He announces before looking at Eve silently expressing… something? 

“No worries, see you guys…” They’re already speeding off to who knows where. They certainly have a mission in mind. They weren’t that rushed five minutes ago. Could whatever Mark forgot be that important?

(You didn’t know it at the time, but the reason he left was actually important. You later found out the reason on TV, even if you weren't aware it was him under the suit.)

“Hey, did you see what happened on the news?” Your friend, Serena, asks you later that day back in your apartment. She would often come over after classes to hang out.

You raise an eyebrow shaking your head, “No? Why? Anything interesting?” You sit down on the couch, leaning your head on the back as you respond.

“Somebody was trying to get Invincible’s attention earlier. He was talking for ages. Was claiming that he was the one who killed all those people in Chicago. I don’t know, he definitely has some issues he needs to sort out.” She waves a hand dismissively. 

That catches your attention, “Really that happened today? How’d I miss that? Wait, he was mad that Invincible ‘killed those people,’ but he is trying to kill people to get his attention?” You ask, doing air quotes as you say “killed those people.” 

“I’m not sure, it mainly just seemed like he wanted Invincible. I don’t know, I stopped questioning these villains a while ago. I only know the bare details.” She sighs.

You nod in agreement, “Fair enough.” You search for the remote and find it between the couch before turning on the TV. Perhaps this story is on the news?  

“ . . . just in! The newest villain, going by the name “Powerplex” has been arrested. Invincible was there to stop him this time, but that did not come without a cost. There were two casualties during this specific attack by him, not even counting his other attacks during this week. The casualties of this attack were his wife and child, who were electrocuted to death. It appears he took them hostage to get Invincible’s attention. You will all be happy to know that he has been arrested. . .” 

“That’s awful.” You frown. “Can’t believe he brought his wife and kids into it. That’s such a cruel thing to do… You think she knew what she was getting into with him?” You ask, turning toward Serena. 

“I mean maybe he was just a good actor? Perhaps he was able to blend in for a while?” Your friend throws out suggestions. “She could’ve also known though. Not that it’s my business. We’ll never know, and I don’t think I want to know.” She sighs before standing up.

“It’s horrific in either scenario. Imagine living with somebody for that long and not truly knowing who they are.” Serena chuckles, but there is no humor. You both stare at the TV screen, watching as the reporter drones on about the details.

“I think I’m going to head back home.” Serena stands up, grabbing her keys and swinging them in her hand. You nod, “Okay, drive home safe… Don’t get electrocuted.” You give her a thumbs up and smile. Is it wrong to joke about events like this? Probably, but if you don’t laugh you cry so…

She gives you an unamused expression “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” She rolls her eyes good-naturedly,  “I’ll see you later.” You wave as she walks out, turning your attention back to the TV. 

You have no connection to Invincible or any of that “superhero” life. The idea of superheroes excites you, but after seeing what occurred in Chicago, you can’t help but feel like it’s not all it’s made out to be.

It’s not like you’d be able to help. You’d end up as a casualty, another body to clean off the field. The thought makes you shiver.

Every time you see a story like this you wonder if there is a universe where it was you that died. It’s easy to just brush these events off like nothing when you aren’t living them.

That was how most people do it nowadays. Doesn’t affect you? Not your problem. It was a frustrating way to live. You didn’t like to think about how people are dying every day due to these villains.

However, you can’t not think about them. Hearing about this whole situation with, what’s his name, Powerplex? It creates this feeling of dread, a feeling you’re unable to ease. Who is to say that you aren’t going to be the next casualty mentioned on the news?

It truly was easy for the whole world to live in that ignorance. It was easier for you to live in ignorance, then they appeared.

--------------------------

DAY ONE

Honestly, the first day wasn’t that eventful for you. It wasn’t until the late evening you even heard about it.

You didn’t live in an area that was immediately affected by the attacks, so it wasn’t as if your apartment suddenly came crashing down on you. Instead, you got a call from Serena. You raise an eyebrow before picking up the phone. 

“Uh hey?” You wonder why she called you, it wasn’t like you got calls often.

”Oh my God, you’re okay.” She breathes out in relief, and now you know something is up. “Please tell me you’ve seen the news.” Her voice is filled with worry.

You stop moving, “No… You know I don’t check the news that often.” You respond. Admittedly, that's on you. You probably should keep up with the news more often.  

She sighs, “Turn it on. There’s like over a dozen Invincibles out destroying major world cities.” You feel your heart drop before immediately moving to your TV and turning it on. You switch to the news.

No words are being spoken, they don’t have to. The screams of panic strike fear into your heart.

The camera shows a gigantic building in Chicago crumbling down. The cameraman focuses their lens on the figure floating above it all. Whoever it is, they’re wearing a white uniform.

The camera isn’t advanced enough to zoom in on their face, but you don’t find yourself doubting Serena’s information. Suddenly a white blur knocks the camera away, and it fades into static. You watch in horror. 

“Oh shit…” You whisper to yourself, forgetting that you are still on the phone. 

“It’s being recommended that we don’t exit our homes. We just pretend like nobody is home.” Serena’s words barely register, but you nod, forgetting that she can’t see your visual response.

“Okay… So we just sit here until they leave?” You ask, feeling stupid for asking the question. What else could you do? Fight them? You’d sooner kill a bear with your bare hands than somehow survive facing off one of them. 

The silence between you two is loud, “Not like we have any other choice.”

--------------------------

DAY TWO

By this point, you had been living in relative darkness for a little over a day. Serena sent you a link to an article advising citizens what to do: keep the lights off, and stay away from windows. You don’t want them to know you’re there. You had occasionally gone to get some food and drinks from the kitchen, but besides that, you were pretty much locked in your room.

The small peeks you took of the outside world showed promise. Realistically, the chances of one of the variants coming to your suburban neighborhood to wreak havoc aren’t high.

You close the curtains and look away from the window. To be fair, they also aren’t zero.

After being bored and doing nothing for over a day, you were instantly aware when something changed in your environment. You felt your heart stop for a moment. It sounded like somebody entered your apartment. 

You remain frozen as you try and listen for any more signs of life outside your room. Eventually, you hear something. A voice calling your name, whoever it is sounds familiar. However, that doesn’t mean you’ll come running out. You don’t respond immediately, sitting there in silence and fear, slowly inching towards the closet to hide.

On the way, you pass by your door, which was slightly cracked open. The intruder could walk in whenever they wanted. It wasn’t the most brilliant move you’ve made, but it wasn’t like you were expecting guests okay?

Your eyes widen as you take in who it is. “Mark?” You push the door open hesitantly. His attention immediately snaps to you. “What are you doing here?” You ask, exhaling slowly and calming your pounding heartbeat. 

He stares at you stoically, before walking over to you, his steps are unhurried. Suddenly you realize that he left the door open behind him. You feel your heart rate spike up again. 

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?” You whisper yell as you push past him to the door. You accidentally bump your shoulder onto his while walking by, causing him to halt and falter in surprise.

”How did you get in? I thought you said you lost that emergency key I gave you.” You lock the door and turn to him again. He observes you silently.

“I found it.” He responds, tone even. 

“Well yes, I kinda assumed that.” You respond dryly before feeling the anger leave your body.

“Hey…” You place your hand on his shoulder and he stiffens. “Are you okay? Did one of those variants attack you or your mom?” He finally looks you in the eye for the first time since he unexpectedly entered. His stare is piercing, it feels like he’s looking at your entire soul. 

He pauses for a moment before answering, “They came through and destroyed my house.” His voice sounds detached like he’s somewhere else right now.

You feel your eyes widen and your heart drops, “Oh my God, is your mom okay?!” You guide Mark back to your room, he seems to follow with no resistance. You sit on the floor, but he remains standing.

“She’s fine. She wasn’t there.” He responds, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“That’s good… I mean not good that your house was destroyed, but good that she got out of there. I mean have you seen the damage that these Invincibles have done?” Mark looks at you like he’s expecting something, and you feel slightly unnerved. Maybe he’s in shock? You can’t exactly blame him. You do feel kinda awkward though. How exactly do you comfort somebody who just had their home destroyed and almost had their mom killed?

“I was watching the news when it started, there was this one I saw. I think it was Chicago he hit?” Mark freezes slightly, his eyes narrowing in on you, but you don’t notice.

“It was crazy… He didn’t look like Invincible at all. However, judging by how many of the other attackers look like Invincible, I want to say that this one was probably some weird Invincible variant in white.” Mark gives you a weird look.

“What’s wrong? Still worried? Don’t worry we should be safe here. I don’t see why an Invincible variant would attack me. I don’t even know who is under that mask. We’ll be safe here if you wanna stay until it’s over.” You feel like you’re talking too much at this point, so you stop before you embarrass yourself more than you already have. 

“So I can stay.” Mark eventually speaks, getting your attention. The phrase is less of a question, and more of a statement, like he needs you to reaffirm what you already said.

You nod, “Of course, stay as long as you need.” You smile at him. Mark stares down at you before nodding and sitting right next to you on the floor. 

You raise an eyebrow, “You know you can sit on my bed right? You don’t have to sit on the floor.” He looks at you and slowly nods. 

“Right…” He sounds hesitant, but eventually stands up walking over to your bed. He sits down on it and looks back at you. He stares at you expectantly. You feel scrutinized under his gaze.

"Uh, is there something on my face?" You ask. He continues to stare at you before he looks away.

"You look different." Well okay then. Is that an insult or compliment?

“Uhh, I don’t exactly look much different than the last time I saw you. Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight.” You joke. He looks at you like you’re stupid. “Hey don’t give me that. Come on wanna play a game or something? I’ve been bored out of my mind here.”  You stand up stretching.

“A game…” He repeats dryly. “What ‘game’ would you wanna play?” He asks.

You hold your hand out giving him the “wait” gesture. He watches as you search around your room before finally finding what you're looking for. “Here we go!” You show him your deck of Uno cards. 

“Uno?” Mark responds confused. “You want to play this... ‘Uno?’” He gestures to the cards. You raise an eyebrow looking back at the cards.

”Yes…? Something wrong with that? I only have the original one if that’s what you’re upset about. Couldn’t find the Seance Dog version, I must've lost it.” You sit next to him starting to shuffle the cards.

”That’s not the problem…” Mark starts to sound unsure looking at the deck of cards. ”Do you perhaps have its original packaging?” He asks. 

You blink in confusion, “No, why?” You start giving him his cards.

”I just need to see its instructions.” He looks at the cards blankly.

You sigh, “No, stacking plus twos and plus fours is not in the rules. Yes, we will play with it anyway.”

You give yourself your cards before setting the giant stack down and flipping over the first card, it’s a green four. “I’ll go first.” You place a green seven down.

Mark stares at the cards, before looking up at you. He stares at his cards for half a minute. “You gonna play a card or are we just gonna sit here?” You joke. 

“Just…” He sounds frustrated, “Just give me a moment…” He looks at the cards. 

After another period of silence, you eventually break it, “Dude just place down a seven or green, please. Whatever strategy you’re thinking of, it clearly isn’t working.” You chuckle.

He looks at his cards before slowly placing a green five down. “Right… I was just planning something.” 

You immediately slam down a blue five. “Yeah sure, try all you want. You aren’t gonna win this time.”

He looks at you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen on his face, “I wouldn’t count on that.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“HOW?! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” You point at the stack of cards in the middle, telling you to take 14 cards. 

“The rules are the rules. Take the cards.” Mark points to the deck of cards, his lips upturned slightly. 

You glare at him before smiling. That was the first time he’s "smiled" today. He’d been off all day, and if losing a game of Uno was what it took to cheer him up, it was a price to pay.

You both play a few more rounds before you get tired of losing. “Okay, you never win this much. Are you cheating?” You jokingly ask.

He scoffs, “Cheating? I don’t need to cheat to win.” He taunts holding his singular card in plain view. The words "UNO" in the back taunt you for the seventh time. The trace of a smile is gone from his face, but you can see the mirth in his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while you can.” You sigh placing down your only play. You look up at him, and he stares at you for a long moment.

“You know dramatically holding out your move doesn’t make you mysterious. Just draw more cards, I know you don’t have a yellow or two.” You roll your eyes. 

He looks at his card and sighs in the most contrived manner possible, a stark contrast to the serious demeanor he had when entering the apartment. “You’re right. I don’t have either…” He places his last card down, a wild.

You look at him blankly, he returns the stare with a smugness he didn’t previously have. You place your cards down before walking out into the kitchen, Mark follows you. “What are you doing?” He asks, the smug tone gone. 

“I'm gonna sacrifice myself to those variants running around, that fate might be better than having a seven-time losing streak.” You respond sarcastically.

“You know what,” You point out to the window, “at least I would beat them in Uno.” You say referring to the Invincibles out destroying the world.

Mark looks at you, then at the window, then back at you, “I doubt that.” 

You lean back on the counter dramatically, feigning offense, “Oh how you wound me! I think I could beat their asses in Uno! I bet at least one of them doesn’t even know how to play it!” 

“I’m sure.” He replies, there seems to be amusement in his voice, but you can’t imagine why. 

“Hey, I beat you in Uno all the time. Consider this your lucky day.” You grab a bag of chips. “I was going easy on you today.” You say before you begin grabbing chips out of the bag. “Want some?”

Mark looks at the bag, his face turning to a grimace, “I’ll… pass.” You shrug and continue snacking before putting the bag away.

”Suit yourself. Feel free to eat whatever I have, just don’t eat it all.” You gesture toward your pantry, his gaze following the direction you point. 

You start to walk away, “Where are you going?” He asks as you pause.

”Pillows? Blankets? I need to grab some extra for myself. You can take my bed.” You look into one of your cabinets, grabbing an extra couple of pillows and a blanket. 

“Is it not your bed though?” Mark asks, frowning.

”Well, yeah, but you’re my friend and my guest.” You smile walking towards your room, and he follows behind you. “I mean with everything you’ve been through recently, I’d feel bad if I forced you to the floor.” Mark remains silent.

You start to create a pile of blankets on the floor, rearranging the pillows how you like them. Mark watches silently. 

“Hey, could you turn my TV on? Make sure it’s muted. As long as the lights aren’t flashing too bright on it I think we’ll be okay.” You ask Mark, he gives a hum of acknowledgment before heading back to the living room.

You finish setting up the makeshift bed before joining him. You look around making sure all the windows are closed and secure before joining him. 

“Oh my God…” You whisper as you watch different clips play out on the TV. These Invincible are destroying cities. You can only stare in shock, you watch as buildings topple over, skyscrapers crumble to the ground, citizens get buried under rubble, and nearby life burns.

What you saw that Invincible in Chicago do was a fraction of the damage.

Mark doesn’t say anything, and the initial glance you took towards him when you walked in reflects that indecipherable look once again. Who knows what he’s thinking? These monsters almost killed his family.

You look over to him to see if he’s watching, his gaze looks detached and uninterested. You turn back toward the TV. “I’m sorry…” You mutter, feeling his eyes turn toward the back of your head.

“For what?” He asks, and he sounds genuinely confused. “You didn’t do it.”

You look back at him, his eyes reflecting disbelief at an apology. “No, but I’m sorry it happened to you.” You look at the screen, showing the burning buildings. It feels like you can hear their screams despite the muted volume. 

He looks at you, not that you can see, as if you're a puzzle. “Why apologize for something you didn’t do? Seems pointless.” He asks.

You look at him, your eyes meeting again, “Sympathy, perhaps.”

--------------------------

DAY THREE

You open your eyes to the blinding light of your window. You blink the sleepiness away before processing that your window is OPEN.

You stand up quickly, tripping over your pillow before you reach to close the window and curtains. You look at your empty bed, perfectly made. 

”Mark?” You call out. You open your door to see him in the kitchen with a mug in hand, windows all open, and lights bright as day.

You gape for a minute before walking over and closing all of them. Once you close them, you turn off the lights, you can still see, but you will admit you kind of missed lighting like that. “What are you doing?!”

Mark looks at you, raising an eyebrow.

You gesture wildly to the house around you, “Uhh I don’t wanna burst your bubble, but we are not Invincible. What are you gonna do if one of those variants attacks us? The attack on your house proves that nobody is safe.”

Mark looks at you uninterested, “Nobody will attack this place.”

”You can’t guarantee that, Mark.” You respond exasperated. “If you could, you wouldn’t be here right now.” You frown as Mark stares at you stoically.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t want to take this out on you, but it’s scary out there. I don’t want to be this paranoid, trust me, but I can never be too sure what will happen.” You sigh looking at him.

“Hell I mean, one of those Invincibles could kick that door down, and we’d be toast. I mean how many even are there?” You ramble.

“Sixteen total.” 

“Sixteen?! Damn.” You exhale in disbelief. “That’s sixteen different Invincibles who could essentially destroy the world. Wait, how’d you even know there are sixteen?” You ask.

Mark gestures lazily toward the TV. “Righttttt, that was a dumb question.” You sigh. Suddenly you pause that train of thought, “Wait, what happened to Eve?”

Mark takes a slow sip of his coffee, “Not sure.”

You frown in concern, “Have you had contact with anybody since they invaded?”

”Just you.” He takes another sip.

”Damn, that’s sad… Do we want to try and contact her?” You ask hesitantly. It doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about Eve.

He shrugs, “Lost my phone.”

You frown, “Oh… Do you wanna. . .” You look up at him, his eyes dead set on you. “You know what, never mind.” You make a mental note to check if you have Eve’s number later, and maybe ask what his whole attitude is about.

“Anyway, were you up long before I got up?” You ask, changing the subject. 

He shakes his head, “No.” He responds. 

“Okay good, I was worried I had slept in or something.” You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You pull it out and see that Serena sent you a new link, you’re so grateful that she keeps up with news better than you can.

”Hey it seems like the variants disappeared from the cities.” You casually mention, Mark looks up, suddenly interested. 

“Where did they go?” He asks. You shrug in response, reading the rest of the article. He walks over to try and read over your shoulder.

“It seems like they all left at roughly the same time, perhaps something called them. Maybe they have a ‘Boss Invincible’ or something.” You joke.

Mark chuckles humorlessly, “You think?”

“You don’t think that?” You retort, smiling.

“No, I mean you’re probably right.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “It just sounds strange.” He continues.

You nod understanding, “Yeah, but I mean what else could bring them together? They have to have a leader of some kind. This attack seems too coordinated to just be unplanned.” 

Mark sips his coffee loudly, “I guess.” It sounds like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. 

You feel your phone vibrate again. You check it and see a text from William. “Hey, William texted me! You’ll be glad to hear that he is okay.” You hear Mark hum in acknowledgment before opening the message. 

It’s safe. They’re gone for good.

You look at the text message surprised. You have multiple questions.

 

How do you know?

Just trust me on this, I know some people who work with the government. The Invincibles are gone. 

Mark notices your silence, “What is it?” He asks.

You turn towards him, “They’re gone gone. The Invincibles apparently vanished, completely. They didn’t just stop attacking the cities or get called away, they aren’t here anymore. They’re gone for good. ” This catches his attention. 

“Are you serious?” He asks. His eyebrows furrow, is he mad?

”...Yeah.” You pause before confirming. “Are you okay?” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He immediately tenses up.

“Hey, they’re gone. They can’t do any more damage. Everything will be okay.” You try to reassure him.

He looks down before relaxing. “They’re gone.” He repeats, you nod. “All of them?” He asks quietly, you nod. 

“All of them.”

--------------------------

“What do you mean they’re not all accounted for?” Cecil yells out walking down the hallway as one of the assistants follows closely.

“You mean to tell me that there is still one of those Marks out there?”

The assistant nods frantically, “We accounted for every single one that died, and the ones that were sent to that alternate dimension. There is still one here, and he’s not our Mark.”

Cecil stops walking, “Does Mark know?” He asks.

The assistant shakes their head, “No… We weren’t sure if we should tell him. I thought it was best to tell you first.”

Cecil nods in approval, “I’m glad you did… Do you know where he was last seen?”

“It was the Invincible that destroyed Chicago, he left after decimating that city. We aren’t entirely sure where he went. He could be on the other side of the globe, but we do know he hasn’t left the atmosphere.” The assistant replies.

"Good, we need to see if there’s a way to locate him. For all we know, he’s already aware that his counterparts have been banished. I can’t imagine he’d serve himself up on a silver platter for us to eliminate." Cecil starts walking towards Eve’s room, there’s a large chance Mark is still there. 

“He can’t hide for long, sir. We’ll find him.” The assistant follows closely behind him.

"Like you already said, he could be halfway across the globe. We can’t leave a threat like that lying around ready to strike whenever. We need whatever leverage we can get right now. If we make it public information that he’s wanted, he might just leave the planet."

"I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly feel safe knowing an evil version of Invincible is out there somewhere in the universe. We were unprepared for this attack, next time we’ll be ready." Cecil walks down the hall watching through the windows as more ReAnimen are being created. He continues to walk past them.

“There’s only one of him. We’ll bide our time. Keep me updated on any status updates on him. If you hear anything that sounds like Viltrumite sightings, I need to know as soon as possible. I will spare no expense, understand?”

”Yes, sir.”

[wild-jackalope]

summary :: in another dimension Mark is born a full blooded Viltrumite and is sent to conquer earth, but you change everything.

warning :: Nolan! Mark x Debbie! Reader, smut, porn w/ plot, fem reader, grinding, no use of cock or cunt (yes I'm a prude), cumin inside, breakups, relationship is a little rocky at first, pregnancy, having a child together eventually, Mark is a clueless viltrumite, soft lowkey, likely some mistakes but I tried my best

note :: h..herrow..

You should've known Mark Grayson was too good to be true. Should've known when he stopped an airborne car from ending your life, that his impossibly handsome face wasn't meant to be yours.

Maybe you did know, maybe you just didn't care.

When you first met, he literally swept you off your feet. One moment, there was screeching of metal and car horns: you were stunned, heart racking your bones with intense thudding, eyes blurred with stress-tears and legs failing your desperate, internal pleas to stay alive and run!

The car being hurled towards you wasn't going to stop and you weren't going to move. You were going to die.

But you didn't.

Instead, you looked up into the sky and landed on a stranger who held back your death like it weighed nothing.

Meters above the ground, wrapped in an unknown white and grey uniform that clung to a frame sculpted by something more brutal than earth could offer. A single hand held up the vehicle that had almost killed you.

His silhouette shielded the sun from your eyes and you could just make out the stoic expression holding his face.

"Leave." He ordered.

And just like that, a breath of life filled your lungs, your legs had begun dragging you away from the destruction, although poorly, because you'd fallen to the ground twice. The spasming of your muscles kept you from running far enough. It was like moving in a dream, your mind willing you to escape but your body reduced to uselessness due to shock.

The large arms that had just stopped the car from killing you; scooped you from the ground and took you miles away from the destruction. You caught a glimpse of the ground, watching as you were flown away from the slaughter whilst others ran.

"No— I'm fine! Go back." You blurted, your visceral thought only being that he'd left the fight for you—and more might be hurt because of it.

He didn't respond, only letting you from his arms on a nearby tower. Before he'd completely let go, he took a millisecond to give your smaller frame a squeeze, as if testing the durability of your body. You hadn't time to question it, nor process it, as he was right back into the battle, hair whipping your face from the rush of air he left behind him.

After about ten minutes of regaining your breath and slapping your legs awake, you attempted to find an exit from the roof. The only door to the lower levels had been locked from the inside.

It was funny, really, something you still teased Mark about even on your wedding night. 'You left me on a roof, seriously?' You asked, laughing. 'I came back for you, didn't I?' He replied.

Indeed he did come back, but not a moment before beating the villain wreaking havoc on the city unconscious. Whilst watching dust fly into the sky and buildings sustain damage you had time to consider that maybe this superhero was new.

He returned to you and took you to the ground, resting you on some calm rubble.

"Thank you. I think I owe you— coffee maybe? Dinner? My life?" you laughed.

He angled his chin up, eyes looking down on you suspiciously, almost to study you. "You didn't run," he stated.

You flushed. Were heroes supposed to make you feel embarrassed for becoming a deer in literal headlights? "Next time I'll try to dodge the flying Sudan."

He hovered beside you, perfectly still in waiting. Expecting something.

"Who— are you?" You asked.

"Mary Grayson. I've come from the planet Viltrum to protect your people." He said, as if it were memorised from a script.

"Mark Grayson?"

"Dinner."

"What?"

"I'll accept your offer for dinner." He said.

He was gone before you could even mutter, "Oh."

You didn't expect him to actually show up for dinner— certainly not tapping on your seventh story apartment window like he'd made his reservation at your dinner table. Actually, you weren't sure what to expect. You weren't even sure how he'd known where you lived.

He arrived just after the sun set, wearing the same strange uniform. His hair messily curved, no doubt blown out from his quick flying during the day's catastrophe. Scuff marks peppered his jaw and hands, and a stain you hoped wasn't blood specked across his chest.

Against your better judgement, you pried open your window and let him in.

He didn’t have a clue about how dates worked, let alone human interaction. You offered him water, and he looked at it like it could've been some suspicious poison. You tried to make conversation, and he answered everything in the most literal way possible—no small talk, no polite questions, just raw honesty. At one point, he stared at your TV for a full two minutes, then asked if humans had always been obsessed with wasting their life with entertainment.

Still, there was something oddly endearing about him. He was out of place, odd and— call it crazy— but you enjoyed it.

That meeting seemed to seal your fate, because Mark Grayson was far from done with you.

You'd see his saves plastered on the news, and sometimes even catch him flying by the city. Some weeks, he'd appear at your window with a worn look— like your home was the only place he could think of going.

Asking never seemed to cross his mind; he just appeared.

And you always let him in.

Whenever he showed up at your doorstep, it was always a new surprise— Like the time he brought you a tree, instead of flowers.

"Mark?" You yelled up, startled, your bag slipping from your shoulder as you stepped out of your building. You side-stepped to avoid the crumbling dirt falling from the uprooted tree in his hand.

"This is for you." He landed, touching down with professional ease. The tree thudded into the patchy yard outside your apartment.

"Mark— this is— why?" You croaked.

"It's customary to present someone you're courting with a plant, is it not?"

"Well, yes, but this?"

"I suspected this will outdo those smaller, weaker plants." He stated, as if he were far above handling flowers.

You stared at the massive plant, trunk thick and roots crammed into the dirt. No flower pot could ever hold it and your landlord would likely have an aneurysm if he saw it left on the front lawn.

But Mark was so earnest about it. Prideful, even.

"So you stole a whole tree?"

"I've relocated it," he stated, very surely. "It was unappreciated, it'll be much better with you."

"Mark, this is a cherry blossom tree... from— somewhere. You can't just—"

"There were no nesting animals," he said, "do you not like it?"

That stupid furrow of his brows and the drop in his voice had your heart pulling at your chest. You sighed, long and reluctant. "No, I like it. It's just... different."

"Good," he said, pride returning to his voice, "then I'll continue with my efforts."

One week, it was a tree, the next it was a quartz crystal straight from the earth's crust, still raw and covered in dirt. "Humans like to be adorned with crystals." he reasoned, as though ripping a rock from the earth was the most natural thing to do.

Once, he'd brought you a wild rabbit, its fur bushy and eyes wide in fear. He stated its weak and terrified nature reminded him of you. You took the poor creature from his hand, cradling it and telling him not to kidnap wild animals between light laughs.

You couldn't help but smile at his complete lack of understanding. The innocence in his actions always disarming you. His earnestness was endearing and with each strange gift, each odd comment, seemed to draw you closer to him. Yet, despite the love that bloomed in your chest, there were moments when the differences between you were so glaring they seemed impossible to bridge.

Then came the night when Mark decided you'd be the one he'd try 'marriage' with.

He came to your window, a gash in his arm still seeping blood from the fight you'd seen the news cover just moments ago.

"Mark! Are you alright?" you ushered him to your room, sitting him on your bed and searching your medicine cabinet for anything to stop the bleeding.

He seemed unimpressed with your worry, stating, "I'm going to be fine. I've survived much worse."

"Don't be an idiot," you muttered, placing a gauze on his wound and tightly bandaging it up. You hadn't realised how close you'd become. He fought for the city, then came straight to your home, not the hospital, or Cecil—you.

It was the first time you'd tended to his wounds, but it wouldn't be the last.

Afterward, you sat beside him, eyeing the tight bandage in hopes that it wouldn't bleed through. Mark couldn't take his eyes off you, feeling your warmth radiate on him.

"You always let me in." He stated, not asking but still unsure.

"Shouldn't I?" You asked, meeting his brown eyes.

His jaw clenched, "it's dangerous," he said. "You know what I am, what danger I bring."

"You being a superhero doesn't scare me," you said.

He studied your face, looking for a lie in your eyes but found none. "Reckless." He muttered.

"Says the man, bleeding on my bed." You mused.

That earned the smallest twitch of his mouth, not quite a smile.

You shifted and the space between you dissipated. His breath entwined with yours, short and shallow.

"You're not dangerous to me," you cooed, leaning in and kissing him.

Your first kiss seemed long overdue, because it revealed a deep need through its fever and roughness.

His mouth moved against yours, like trying to find the rhythm of it— trying to immediately master this new experience.

Your fingers found his hair, dragging gently across his scalp until he grunted into your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hands hovering, tense and strained over your sides.

You brushed it aside as a silly alien trait and pressed his hand against your side. "It's okay Mark," you breathed, kissing his jaw, "you can touch me."

His breath hitched, flickering between your lips and where his hands tightly rested. "I appreciate your forward approach, but are you sure you're ready to procreate with me?"

"P—Procreate? What?" You snorted, unable to hide how the absurdity jolted your body.

"That is what you're intending, isn't it— to mate?"

"Lord no—" You said, attempting to suppress any giggles rising up your chest. "On Earth, sex isn't just about having children."

"No?"

"Sometimes, but most times..." you trailed, a finger brushing Mark's arm, "it's simply for pleasure."

That got his attention. His muscle stilled beneath your touch, watching you like you were some rare thing. "I want to feel it for myself," he said.

"I bet you do." You leaned in and pressed a lingering, light kiss to his jaw.

Your hands landed on his chest, the hardness a reminder of his impossible strength. You moved, straddling his lap and letting him feel the curves of your body against him. His breath quickened and you could already feel the effects of your touches, hard against your inner thigh.

Your hands, bold and needy, began to map out the muscles of his body, curving over the planes of his stomach before finding the firm ridges. You let them linger there, listening intently to the puffs of Mark's heavy, anticipated breath.

Once you decided to let up on your teasing, your palm found the curve of his bulge, the heat of him palpable even through the fabric of his suit.

He sucked in a sharp, defensive breath, grabbing your hand tightly as protective instinct kicked in. You took a moment away from his lips to study his face.

You were faced with an expression you hadn't yet seen painting Mark's features. His brows were furrowed in an unfamiliar expression: soft frown, flushed face and wide pupils. You could only describe it as desire wearing the mask of nervousness.

You tilted your head, offered him a knowing smile.

Despite his internal turmoil, you easily freed yourself from his grip and continued your pursuit of his pleasure.

You had managed to reach a strange equality in your relationship: Mark was a super-powered hero with incredible strength, but he knew nothing of the world, and you had to teach him. But this? With Mark's breath spiking at the pressure you touched him with, the way he shivered at your wet kisses. He'd never been at your mercy before.

You pressed Mark down onto the bed, rising only to take your shirt off.

He seemed torn between action and simply taking whatever lesson on human interaction you had to give him. His hands hovered closely, but not close enough.

You took his wrist and guided him to the fabric of your bra. "You're not going to break me, Mark."

"You're frail."

You huffed, raising a brow at his expression, "I can take whatever you want to give me."

That did little to soothe his concern—but it didn't stop him.

You pressed your weight into the stiff shape poking your thigh, driving your hips forward. Mark grunted, the hand on your breast squeezing, the other finally taking a stronger hold of your waist.

"Fuck," he cursed, fingers pushing craters into your soft skin. You repeated the motion, adding kisses alongside it.

"You want to take your suit off?" You drawled, slow and sensual into his ear.

He was naked below you before you knew it. You decided to even the playing field by taking off your bottoms.

He admired your body for a moment, enough to send a kick of embarrassment to your cheeks.

“I’ll turn the lights off.” You offered, reaching towards the lamp.

But he stopped you with a firm hand.

“What is the point of nudity if I’m unable to see you?”

“Well—" you paused, "it’s more about feeling.”

He took two fingers and softly dragged them down the middle of your breasts, along the ridges of your sternum until he reached the plush of your tummy. “I’m more than capable of seeing and feeling.”

You shivered. No hiding, then.

“Let me see you.”

“Mark…” you protested. He was having none of it. You slowly relented, unclasping your bra and sliding off your underwear, the last remaining pieces.

As the covers slipped from your skin, you felt like a dish—and Mark, with his scrutinising gaze, could’ve passed for a food inspector. His eyes roamed slowly, meticulously, like he was checking every bump and curve for perfection.

You took the pause to gander at him, finally letting your eyes settle on his sex. Am I prepared to take that? You asked yourself, god if his hands don’t break me, his dick might.

“Stop staring,” You muttered, unsure if it was for you or Mark.

With no further instruction from you, Mark decided he’d better inform you how quick of a learner he was.

He took you into him with a swift motion, his flushed skin meeting your own burning flesh in a tight hold. As quickly as he palmed your skin, his mouth painted your chest with rough and inexperienced kisses. You could feel his teeth drag and catch on your breast, making your thighs quiver.

Okay, yeah, I can take him. You decided.

You reached down, fingers trailing down his defined abdomen before brushing against his shaft, and you took the size of him in your hand, feeling a hot breath ghost your shoulder. You gave him a firmer grip and Mark’s arms around you became rigid. A slow stroke drew a groan from him, one that was unguarded and ragged.

With a more assured pace and grip, you quickened your rhythm. He twitched and a dribble of precum slicked your hand.

You would save the rest of foreplay for another time.

You aligned yourself with his length and hovered over his tip, slowly fitting him into you.

There was a slight discomfort at the wet tightness but it was taken away by a sharp pain at your shoulder. Mark's teeth had sunk into your flesh, not enough to break the skin but enough to distract you whilst he pulled you flush onto the remaining size of his sex.

"Mark!" You yelped, hands circling his neck to pry him away from your shoulder.

His lidded eyes met yours, and little dazed and partly apologetic.

"You bit me." You stunned.

"I—"

"It's okay," you said, "just.. not so hard." You thought you saw a flash of a surprised grin but became distracted with the twitch of his full length inside you.

"You're soft everywhere," Mark rasped, his hips rolling into you, slow and deliberate.

The confession made your gums itch and your moan met his groan halfway. You steadied yourself on his chest, feeling the intense drum of his heartbeat. His hips continued to push into you in an untrained attempt.

You aided, rolling into him and feeling the slide along your sensitive insides. You cursed.

The two of you found a disjointed rhythm— Mark matching the sway of your hips with a quick intent, whilst you took your time on him, working to have his length hit that perfect spot which drove you quicker to your orgasm.

Even through the fog of his desire, Mark couldn't help but study the way you reacted to him. How you quivered when he reached the deepest part of you, right where his dick curved into your most sensitive part.

He angled his hips to reach further, and your breath caught in your throat.

Mark's grip on your hips tightened and in a possessive motion he guided your hips further on him replacing your grinding with his strong, quick thrusts.

Your body shook against his, responding to him instinctively and Mark couldn't help but think this is right. This is exactly where I need to be.

Your nails pierced his chest, raking white lines against Mark's skin as his dick pushed you to your orgasm.

"Fuck!" You cried, your body racked with the flood of pleasure reaching every nerve in your body.

Mark was sent over, too, consumed by the fluttering of your insides sucking him in. A guttural groan escaped him with his final, messy thrust. His seed filled your twitching sex, kept inside by his length still filling you whilst the two of you caught your breath.

Both of you stayed, matching pants filling your otherwise silent room.

"Fuck..." you exhaled, half from exhaustion and disbelief. Your mind still swam in the afterglow and you couldn't help but mutter, "It took my last boyfriend forever to..." and as the words left your mouth your heart dropped. Seriously? Mentioning an ex while he's still inside me?

"Continue," he said, a flicker of tension in his eyes.

You hesitated, considering backtracking. "I've... never finished the first time having sex with someone.."

His lips quirked into a smirk. "So does that earn me the title of boyfriend?" he asked, his voice tinged with playful confidence. Without waiting for an answer, he shifted his hips upward, lifting you off the bed with ease. You gasped at the sensation, smacking his chest.

"Don't be arrogant," you shot back, raising yourself off of him with a silenced wince.

You pulled a drawer open, rummaging for an oversized shirt to slip on, and tugged it over your head before heading into the bathroom to clean up the warm mess between your thighs.

When you returned, Mark hadn't moved. But his eyes were fixed on the ceiling as though it were the endless night sky.

"What are you thinking about Mark Grayson?" you asked, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

His gaze shifted to you and something of a smile formed on his lips, but soon dropped to a slight frown. "On my planet, home. Mating— sex, is purely to procreate. I never thought it could be a tool for anything else."

"Sounds boring." You hummed.

Mark remained silent.

It really was just the two of you from then on, living life in a new rhythm, one that included Mark in ways you hadn't considered. He was at your side whenever he had time away from saving the world,

but that still left you plenty of time alone.

The quiet away from Mark allowed you to remain yourself. You—not just the girlfriend of a superhero.

Still, his absence was... undesirable, so it didn't take long for him to decide he needed to make it up to you. He had been away for a week, trapped in another dimension battling a monstrous race, and when he finally returned, he insisted on doing something to make up for lost time. That’s when he took you across the globe on your first trip together.

It was supposed to be a nice time, a way to reconnect. But like most things with him, it ended up being more complicated than either of you expected...

That trip was the first time you two broke up.

"I can't believe you organised this, Mark." You poked your chicken chasseur with a fork, "you can be romantic after all."

"I figured you must've missed me," he replied as casual as ever.

"Probably not as much as you're hoping I did." You grinned over the rim of your champagne glass.

Mark's brow lifted, amused. "No?"

"Well, you left with no warning, no goodbye." You said, tone light but edged with something real.

"I would've," he said, softer.

You sighed, warm but honest, "I know. It's just... hard sometimes, not knowing where you are, or how long you'll be gone."

He leaned in, elbows resting on the table. "But I'm here now. So, you'll spend the night with me."

You blinked, he must've really missed sleeping with you. "That's pretty direct."

"I took you to Paris, it's considered to be earth's most romantic city," He said plainly.

"You think because you took me to Paris I'll just crawl into bed for you?" You asked, sitting back in your seat.

"Yes— and continue the course of our relationship."

You laughed, but it was dry and full of disbelief. "So that's what we are? A transaction? You leave for weeks, take me to a nice place and I give you sex?"

His jaw tensed. "That's not what I meant."

"But it's what you think, isn't it?" You leaned forward, voice low but controlled.

"Don't twist my words."

"Pretty sure I'm hearing them clearly." You sighed, attempting to soften to him, "you can't expect everything to return to the way it was when you're ready, like my life is on pause until you come back. Then you expect me to worship you when you get back?"

His brow furrowed, caught somewhere between frustration and confusion. "I'm trying to fit your pace, your customs."

"I don't need you to fit anything, Mark, I just want you to understand me." You pushed your plate aside to reach his hand, "A relationship isn't about scoring points."

He glanced down at your touch, but instead of taking it, he pulled his hand away, fingers curling tight around the edge of the table. "I'm tired of your people's petty traditions. Will you come home with me tonight or not?"

Your mouth parted in utter disbelief, "No." You said, tossing your napkin on your plate and standing.

Mark quickly followed, his chair scrapping loudly behind him. "I brought you here, you can't leave without me."

"Like hell I can't."

That led to you blowing a thousand dollars on a very long plane ride home.

It was the first time you and Mark broke up, but it wouldn't be the last.

He won you back of course, only because you saw him save two children on the news, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The second time the two of you 'broke up' was a tad bit... bloodier.

Mark had taken you to a Christmas market, the kind that lit up at night, with fairy lights strung across every stall, holiday music echoing from an unseen speaker being muffled by laughter and chatter.

It was the kind of place that felt safe and warm, despite the freezing winter.

You'd stepped away from Mark for only a moment, drawn to a stall that sold hand carved snow globes. Each little world held in them were so delicate and sweet. You were smiling, ready to call Mark over to show him one that held a home with a joyful family— when a feeling struck you.

The kind that made your scalp tight and your stomach feel light.

You looked up, eyes instinctively grazing over the people nearby when you landed on a man whose eyes glistened red in the cold. It was a man, mid forties with a glare that pinned you in place.

You straightened, looking over the heads of the crowded market to find Mark.

You spotted his distinctly dark hair and tall frame a few stalls down, half listening to a woman trying to sell him mittens.

You walked to his side, pressing to him and keeping your voice hushed, "let's leave, Mark."

He blinked down at you, "why?"

"There's a guy giving me a look and I am not interested in sticking around to see if he'll try anything."

Mark's expression hardened, not in dismissal but recognition. He stared at your face a moment too long waiting to catch your fleeting gaze to the man. When you did, Mark followed your eye line.

You caught a brief sight of his fists curling before he was gone from your side, leaving you with a strong gust of wind.

"Mark no—" it was too late.

He was already gone.

You stumbled by, weaving through people and muttering apologies to reach him. A tight circle of people had surrounded him and by the time you'd pushed through them, the man was stumbling back, clutching his mouth with a bloodied hand.

Mark's fist connected again, a loud thwack! sounding out. The man dropped like a rag doll to the ground.

"Mark!" You shouted, grabbing the back of his coat—the one you'd just gifted to him, still smelling of the store you bought it from. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"He was looking at you with ill intention," He said flatly, disgusted eyes still on the unconscious man, "just as you said."

"Mark, men look at me. Intent isn't a crime! you can't beat them because they stare!"

"I protected you," he said, eyes cooling when they reached you.

"No, you just attacked someone!" Your voice began to crack at the realised gazes around you. Recording phones, light whispers.

Just then, you caught specks of blood on his collar. It didn't seem to bother him. He was too calm, too sure he'd done the right thing.

"You can't hurt people because you think they're bad. The world doesn't work like that."

"I'll do as I please," he said.

Your chest ached. "Yeah?" You whispered, eyes narrowing. "Then good luck fitting in because I'm not going to babysit some alien psycho." You released your grip on his coat, stepping away.

His expression didn't break, not even twitch and somehow that made it worse.

But, third times a charm, right?

You hoped to God it was when you decided to give Mark his third— and final—chance.

He showed up at your window weeks later, disheveled, like he had forgotten how to dress like a human. His shirt was stained, pants crinkled and still wearing the coat you gave him.

He didn't beg, didn't argue, just said: "I've been learning."

A simple truth, a real promise.

You let him back in, not because he had changed but because he wanted to, for you.

Thankfully, no breakups came about after that. There were missteps, yes—misunderstandings, nights on the couch—but no fights that broke your relationship.

There was growth too, and tenderness. Nights in one another's arms, domestic mornings, and something close to peace.

And it stuck.

So the two of you got married. Not long after, you had a beautiful baby girl.

But really, it was all too good to be true.

The night before you found out Mark's true intentions for coming to Earth—that he was the one who killed the Guardians of the Globe and was going to try and indoctrinate your child into a ruthless empire—he'd made love to you like it'd be the last time.

Things had shifted since your daughter had gotten her powers. Mark was quick to anger from the smallest things, his body was continuously tense in a way it hadn't been in years.

But when he laid you down with soft kisses, you thought maybe this was the Mark you'd missed, until he spoke.

"You know you were the first person I ever experienced this kind of love with." His voice was low and subtly disturbed.

"Mark?" You took his face in your hands, trying to soothe whatever sadness had come over him.

"You'll be the last too."

"Don't talk like that, Mark—" A gasp pulled from your chest as he filled you. You must've had sex with Mark hundreds of times over the years, yet the feeling of his length sliding inside you and the spark it ignited never tired.

It likely felt the same for him, because he halted, regaining the steady pace of his breath.

"I'll never want this with another," he whispered.

"Mark—" He kissed you, enveloping his name on your tongue and hushing any further talk. No, he only wanted moans from you.

His arms encompassed you tightly, as did his smell and taste. Just Mark, all around you and inside.

Too good to be true. You knew it. You had always known it.

read a continuation of this AU here

[vinnyvamppp]

Pretty When You Cry

Did I leave for two hours and come back with this?! Yes, I did! Mainly, my idea for writing this is because he cries often in the show when upset or overwhelmed, so why not let that apply to sex too?

Synopsis: He's having relationship issues with Amber, but you're willing to be his distraction... right?

Warnings: Dacryphillia, Sub!Mark (canonically loves his women in charge), Soft Dom!Reader, Position changes, implied struggles with romance, no contraception (pull out game 💀), porn w a plot, fem presenting reader, friends to lovers?

Mark Grayson/Invincible x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,542

He was such a pretty crier. A man in tears was a man you could love for years. It was a sight you never grew tired of. While it would be shameful to admit, you partially listened to him spill his troubles to see those glistening pearls bubble down his waterline. As you stared at him admiringly—perched against his rooftop—you listened as he poured his heart out, a feeling of pity settling in your gaze.

Little did you know, his emotions were stirring more than usual and creating an unfamiliar sense of lust towards you.

This was wrong—utterly and irrevocably wrong.

Mark gazed idly at your dimly lit features as you looked up at the stars from the roof, he had decided to invite you over to his place after a fight with his girlfriend; he didn't want to go home, and he definitely didn't want to be alone. The fight with Amber still lingered—a bitter taste in his mouth—but it was nothing compared to the turmoil brewing in his chest.

He wanted a break—you were just that. One of his childhood friends and confidants. He was certain he and Amber were over; it was a situation where he didn’t realize they were broken up until it was too late. So why the hell—in the midst of everything—was he thinking about kissing you? He HAD a girlfriend a few hours ago, one who loved him with every fiber of her being.

Yet, you were always so pretty to him. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t had a crush on you in the past—or even fucked his fist at the thought of you until his dick was raw and coated in lotion. It was pathetic, he knew it, but more than ever now he felt enticed by your very presence. The way your lips would speak such comforting words, and you would stare at him as if only he existed. Sure, the relationship between him and Amber didn’t work out because he’s Invincible and she’s a regular human, but he could be selfish just this once… right?

For the thousandth time, you reassured him Amber would return to him with a new resolve. It was almost like you were trying to convince the two of you. It was nonexistent now. So what else could he do besides cast aside his doubt and stare at those puffy lips?

“You okay?” you asked, curious about his staring. “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay,” he muttered like a dejected puppy, tugging at your heartstrings. “Right, so instead of moping… you need a stress reliever. For your sake. Dragging yourself around all day won’t help.” You sighed quietly, your fingers gently resting against the thin cloth of his back reassuringly.

“Right,” he replied. “What’s your idea of a stress reliever—and don’t say exercise; I already do that constantly.” His fingers gestured in your direction, some of his playfulness returning. “Get this,” you started, as if to say something revolutionary. “Exercise.”

His eyes rolled as he mumbled under his breath, his head turning to face you with a raised brow. “You’re such a comedian,” he quipped. “Come on, an actual one that won’t have me sweating and panting like a dog, okay? Please?” His voice struck a chord within you; it was the perfect rasp and whine.

Not to mention his words causing your thoughts to travel a million miles past sexual. “I wouldn’t mind the sight,” you said casually. “Besides—the lotion and tissue in your room suggests you ‘exercise’ more than enough.”

It was a harmless joke—enough to bring him pause as you two quietly chuckled. It was embarrassing, but nothing he couldn’t deny.

“Uh. Yeah,” he muttered. As you leaned over slightly, his staring persisted. Your shoulder rested against his as you stared into his eyes. His gaze avoided you momentarily before locking within your reflection. “Mark, what’s going on?” you asked, head tilting slightly. “I know I’m not going crazy—you’ve been staring at me since you invited me over. You didn’t call me over just to stare.” The last sentence was sarcastic. “I did,” he rasped—it was hushed and nearly caused your hearts to flutter in tandem.

“They are different." He started, "Very different. But I… didn’tknowhowtotellyoubecauseitfeelsdesperatetosaythisnowthatamberandibrokeupbutivelikeyouforalongtimeandimeansincewewerekidsandireallywanttokissyourightnowandineedtobeinsideyou.”

It poured out like an unexpected dam breaking.

As you stared at him in silence—your looks of bewilderment matched one another’s. To escape his embarrassment, he briskly stood up, opened his bedroom window, and climbed in. As he turned away, you crawled in behind him—his gaze slowly meeting yours as you gave a “Fuck it” sort of nod.

The actions were fast—rushed even. He needed a distraction to quiet his never-ending mind—and like always—you were the solution. His fingers draped over your waist as he pulled you in, your lips meeting his in feverish delight.

His temperature as a Viltrumite ran hot—your bodies already producing a light sheen of sweat. The quiet sounds of moans mingled between hot breaths. Tilting his head further—his lips parted as his tongue jutted out in search of yours. It was a gentle yet mutually needy kiss; your bodies were pressed so firmly together you could feel the tent forming against his slacks.

He was an excited one—but gentle. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you tugged the strands to earn a strangled groan. His lips latched onto yours like a suction cup; only when he was satisfied with your moans did his puffy lips shift down your neck. His tongue tickled the skin—not leaving marks as to get caught, but covering you in his taste. Your fingers delved under the fabric of his shirt as you relished the attention.

The indentation of his abs was the sweetest treat—your fingers shifted upwards—exposing his abdomen to the night's chill as you both groaned. His feet shuffled forward clumsily as you two fell against his bed.

Sitting you up, his fingers nimbly worked you out of your shirt and pants. Your hands fumbled to get his pants down, but eventually, they pooled around his ankles. Just as he assisted you in removing his shirt, you took in his appearance with such admiration and lust while he stared at you reverently.

You two—while being incredibly impatient—nearly skipped foreplay entirely. His fingers unclasped your bra and removed the matching colored panties down the flesh of your thighs. The wet patch forming in his boxers was becoming evident—his arousal at an all-time high, and his stamina was mounting for the night ahead.

Pressing you back against the bed, your bodies pressed together—his heart pounding—you devoured each other's mouths. His tongue was like a tender caress that made your stomach tie in knots; the anticipation was killing you. “Ha… I needed this,” his words muffled between kisses as you hummed in agreement.

He pulled away—his thumb dragging down the corner of his boxer as his cock slowly sprung from beneath the fabric. In all its glory, it stood with neatly trimmed pubes and visibly throbbed with restraint. Once his last article of clothing hit the ground, he took a moment to nervously chuckle as he admired you, splayed beneath him. His expression was giddy as it traced down the supple curves of your figure, the fat of your breasts and the arousal coating the outside of your folds—catching his attention more than anything. You looked gorgeous.

Time was up. You had enough and needed a little more. Reaching up to give him a gentle peck, you flipped him onto his back as you straddled him. He looked surprised but welcomed the authority as he melted beneath you. His lips sought yours, and your fingers began to caress your clit as you continued.

The quiet sound of your arousal pooled into his ears, his eyes fluttering open as he stared at you with your eyes screwed shut in bliss. He could feel himself nearly cum from the sight alone. His dick was beginning to hurt—and to soothe the ache—his fingers wrapped around his cock and pumped in tandem with your fingers.

Slightly annoyed—your fingers swatted his away and brought it to your clenching hole—ready to milk him dry. As his first digit entered your warmth, he shivered. He could feel every ridge and contraction as your abs squeezed from the pleasure. His fingers formed a V, and once spread enough, you took your seat with pleasure. It would normally hurt, but thanks to your sadistic mind imagining his crying for the last few hours, you’d been leaking like a faucet.

The stretch was delicious, but nothing was better than his blissed expression and immediate groan. Deep. Long. Exhilarating strokes. He was reactive—the perfect man for your little kink. Never mind not having a condom; he was never the most responsible in that manner.

The slow, deliberate movement of your hips was like a tantalizing dance—teasing him with every rotation. His fingers dug into your thighs, urging you on as you began riding him with an unhurried intensity. His eyes locked onto yours, his eyes occasionally fluttering shut in pleasure as he fought the urge to slam you down against him. While he would love to, he felt helpless and abandoned to your will, a willing captive, lost in the maelstrom of desire.

His chest rose and fell as quiet whines slowly filled his throat—the sight of his eyes rolling back before fluttering finally broke the final restraints of your self-perseverance. Digging your fingernails into his chest—your hips rose slowly before suddenly dropping with a renewed conviction. “Oh… F-Fuck… yes,” he sighed, like this was the medicine he’d been craving.

As much of a gentleman as he was for his girlfriends, he was lascivious when he intended.

Shifting his fingers to your ass, he assisted in the fluidity of your movements—his strength allowing you to glide along his cock with ease. Moans began to filter from your lips. “That’s… perfect, don’t you stop,” you demanded it with every bit of grit you could muster.

Your fingers clasped around the width of his chin so he could focus on you—his body bouncing against the mattress as the air was knocked from him. He wasn’t the most talkative, but he was vocal. “I’m not… I’m not going to stop. Feels so perfect in here, I can’t—I,” he stammered wearily as his body moved on autopilot.

You watched as he practically fucked himself dumb, the sound of skin colliding filling your ears as your teeth gnawed at your lip. One particularly deep thrust seemed to have sent him into overdrive—his tip could feel your insides contracting as if to suck him in more.

He wanted to be buried in you—he could imagine you two fucking like rabbits. He smiled weakly at the thought.

His toes curled into the mattress as your back arched, and harsh gasps erupted from his throat as his body trembled. A groan—a measly groan of his resilience, echoed in the room. Lost in your own sounds of pleasure, you had yet to notice the man nearly convulsing beneath you.

His hand left your hips and rose to the fingers that gripped his chin. Suddenly, your impending orgasm was ruined.

“Sorry, I’m s—sorry, I’m so sorry,” he babbled before pressing a firm hand against your stomach and resting your back against the bed.

Before you could react, he sheathed himself within your pussy once more and fucked you with vigor to make up for lost time.

He attempted to speak—only his jaw clenched in response. Your head fell back against the edge of the bed—the legs of the bed frame wobbled as it rocked sideways; the thumps against the wall filled the room. Pleasured grunts and profanities fell from your pouted lips as you ground back against him. A high-pitched whine fell from him as his head fell.

“Oh—Jesus, what—what the fuck? You feel so, so, so, so,” he slurred slightly—you chuckled in response.

“Fuck… mm, seems like you’ve wanted this for a while?” you questioned through moans—your fingers cupping your bouncing breasts from his gaze as he grew distracted.

“You… have noooo idea,” he admitted—too in bliss to care much about embarrassment.

Your core slowly began to tighten and so did your chest as his body pressed forward with nearly all his weight. His fingers curled into the blankets as his tongue ran dry with ruined sobs. His pelvis rubbing deliciously against your clit made your legs stiffen behind him. He moved to pull away—but before you could—one of your legs hooked around the width of his neck.

The position elevated your hips slightly—his dick punctuating with each thrust unintentionally.

He was losing his mind. Such raw and unfiltered love swelled his chest. Your fingers wrapped around the width of his lower back to spur him on—your orgasm quickly doubling back. “P-Please, can’t cum inside… fuck,” he muttered wearily as tears began to fall.

His body trembling with pleasure, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The sensation was too much, the pressure building in his chest like a dam about to burst. He tried to hold it back—to grit his teeth and bear it, but it was no use. The pleasure mounting had his body wracking in ways he had yet to feel so intensely.

With a satisfied grin, you watched his pretty lashes become coated with warm tears. The salty taste stained your lips as he moaned in delight. Your sounds mingled with one another until they became indistinguishable. His fingers found the fat of your ass and he bullied himself into you, the strength behind it made you dizzy.

Wiping his tears away, you peppered gentle kisses against his face. “I've always loved you,” he muttered suddenly—you brightened in response. “Love you too,” you replied gingerly before a high-pitched whine ripped from your throat. The tip of his tongue pawed at your nipple desperately—the bud hardening beneath his cold saliva.

Your orgasm hit you like a train as your back arched, your fingers clasped at him—legs trembling. Harsh gasps left you in your failed attempt to remain silent. Hedonistic praises left you, but Mark could barely respond. The throbbing sensation of your pussy was practically trying to suck the cum from his cock. “Please, oh fuck, please, baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy shit,” his words were hurried as he let out a chuckle of disbelief.

At his words, your leg freed him—as he pulled out just last minute, his sperm barely making it to your abdomen. His body hunched over as he gasped—his jaw slacking as his muscles visibly strained. Slow whines spilled from his lips as he came down from his high.

His recovery time was fast, though his body still trembled with an aftershock. With bated breaths, you both stared at one another, his eyes barely focused as he sat in awe.

You both chuckled at one another before his rasped voice called out to you. “You think we should date?” he asked before correcting himself. “I mean, do you want to date me? I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I would like—"

A pillow slammed into his face as you rolled your eyes. “Sure, Mark. I’d love to go out with you.”

Had to be dramatic like the show lmfao.

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[aila0veyou2death]

𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬

𖹭 pairing: viltrumite!mark grayson x flesh-hungry!female!reader (A.K.A warlord prince with god complex x bio-engineered monster girl built for carnage)

𖹭 TW: DUB CON, dark content, blood, gore, violence, power imbalance, swearing, possessive behavior, death, non-human biology, captivity, enemies-to-lovers trope?, face-fvcking, p in a v, size difference, breeding k1nk, dumbification, belly bulging, master/pet dynamic, overstimulation, biting, marking, p0rn with a plot.

𖹭 author's note: This fic is long, messy, heavy edited and 100% born from my horny little brain while watching Invincible Hope you enjoy :P

Silence had never sounded so victorious.

What was once a vibrant blue planet, bursting with resistance and stubborn will, now lay in ruins. Cities crumbled. Skyscrapers reduced to bones. Blood dried into the dirt...Humanity tried its best—they fought with desperation, with all the fire they could muster.

But in the end, it was never a fair fight.

The Viltrumites walked the Earth's surface like gods claiming what was rightfully theirs.

Mark Grayson—son of a human mother, molded by a Viltrumite father—flew alongside the others in silence, dressed in the same white uniform. His gaze was sharp, scanning the rubble below. He didn't blink. Didn't speak. Just watched as his people moved like a plague across the land, searching through the decay not for survivors, but for something more valuable.

Secrets. Weapons. Leftovers of mankind's final, frantic efforts to defend itself.

They scoured beneath the ash, the collapsed buildings, the bones of a world that had tried to resist. Eventually, they found it—underground bunkers hidden deep beneath the crust of a dead world.

Inside, scraps of humanity clung to life. The scent of sweat, fear, and filth hit them first. Then came the screams—raw, panicked, and pointless.

The survivors didn't beg. They knew better. They cried, they clutched each other, they tried to run.

Mark said nothing. Not a single word. He didn't interfere. He simply watched, unmoved, as the others handled it. Blood filled the halls and screams died quickly.

There was no mercy left to give. Only silence and death.

Not a single emotion flickered in his eyes. No sorrow. No pity. No guilt. Nothing.

Not even as he hovered above the charred remains of the planet that birthed him.

Earth burned. And he watched.

He had been taken away before he ever had the chance to experience what this world could have offered him—just a boy when his father brought him to Viltrum, to be raised as one of their own. As a soldier. As an heir.

There were no childhood memories to mourn. No human attachments to cloud his judgment. To him, Earth was not home. It was a mission. A conquest. Another name on the long list of worlds that fell beneath the Viltrumite flag.

A hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

He didn't flinch. He knew that grip—it was measured, heavy, and commanding.

He turned his head slightly, meeting the sharp, weathered gaze of his father. Nolan stood beside him, armor stained with blood and ash, his cape fluttering in the dead wind. He looked at his son, not with warmth or pride—but with the calm precision of a general addressing his equal.

Nolan's eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting from his son to the smoldering wreckage below. The quiet crackle of still-burning buildings echoed between them like a lullaby of conquest.

"It's pathetic." he muttered, voice slicing through the smoke. "The ones hiding underground. Crammed in piss-soaked bunkers, clinging to some foolish hope that their heroes would come back for them."

Mark said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"They should've surrendered," Nolan went on, colder now. "Some did. The smarter ones. But the rest?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Cowards. Hiding like insects in the dark. It’s disgraceful."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant wind and the distant creaking of a collapsed tower.

Then Nolan spoke again, glancing sideways at Mark. "We should check the GDA's underground facilities. Cecil was always hiding something. Back when I worked with him, I caught whispers—rumors of illegal experiments, unnatural weapons… even bio-creatures bred for war."

Mark’s brow furrowed slightly. "You think they actually built something strong enough to stop us?"

Nolan let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Doubtful. But who knows? If there is something down there, it could either be a useful tool… or a lingering threat. More likely, just another one of Cecil's pathetic failures rotting in the dark."

He looked ahead, eyes sharp. "Whatever it is, we can't leave it unchecked."

Without another word, Nolan lifted his hand and gestured.

From above, four Viltrumites dropped through the smoke in perfect formation, landing beside them in silence. Their white uniforms were stained with dirt and streaks of blood, but their expressions were calm and ready.

"Head to the GDA headquarters," Nolan ordered. "New York is nothing but bones now, but if they hid anything, it's down there. Deep." He turned to Mark. "We dig. We search. No stone left untouched. I want their secrets exposed and buried with them."

Mark gave a small nod and took off, the others following behind. They soared through the grey sky, silent wings of death gliding over what was once one of the busiest cities in the world.

Below, skyscrapers stood like charred tombstones, windows blown out, steel skeletons groaning in the wind. The familiar spire of the GDA building jutted out from the rubble, half of it caved in, the rest barely standing. Whatever was beneath it had remained hidden even through Earth’s last breath.

The Viltrumites landed and began tearing into the rubble like it was paper, shoving aside steel beams and broken machinery.

They crashed through steel and concrete with ease, moving deeper into the abyss beneath the ruined city. Reinforced floors gave way. Labs long abandoned passed in a blur of rusted equipment and glass. The dust thickened. Lights flickered, dim and weak like dying stars. The silence turned heavy. Tense. Wrong.

Then they found it—buried farther than any of them expected. A sealed facility, hidden beneath layers of stone and steel. Carved into the earth like something meant to stay forgotten. The air down there clung to them, thick with rot, blood, and iron.

The hallway ahead was narrow, smeared with the stains of time and something more violent. Rust bled down the walls in lines like veins. Blood left in handprints. Claw marks. Torn restraints bolted to the walls. Some of the doors were dented from the inside.

Nolan stepped forward and shoved one of them open with a metallic shriek.

WEEOO-WEEOO-WEEOO—

The alarms wailed like dying animals, echoing up every floor and spilling out into the ruined city above. Scarlet lights flooded the hallway, pulsing like veins. It was a scream. It reached the top of the building. The streets. The sky. Every Viltrumite nearby the area turned their head at the sound that's coming from crumbling structure.

And in the depths of that pulsing red light... something laughed.

Soft at first, childlike and playful.

Then it grew louder. Sharper. Hungrier.

A small figure dragged itself from the darkness of a ruined chamber, half-naked, blood-stained, nails cracked and filthy, hair tangled into a wild, matted mess. Your eyes were wide, glowing faintly under the emergency lights. Your body was trembling—not from fear, but from hunger. You hadn’t fed properly in months. Maybe years. And their scent—those clean, proud Viltrumite bastards reeking of blood under their pristine uniforms—hit your senses like a drug.

You smiled wide.

Your gaze snapped to the Viltrumites—and your pupils dilated.

You lunged.

It all went to hell from there.

The first Viltrumite barely had time to blink before you slammed into him, your fangs tearing deep into his throat. You shook your head violently, ripping out chunks of flesh like a starving beast. His scream gurgled to nothing as you twisted—snapping his neck and tearing it free with a savage pull.

You bounced off the falling body, landing on all fours like an animal, with his head still in your hands. Then you bit into it, chewing with noisy satisfaction, like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

The others quickly charged, and one swung but missed.

You dropped the head mid-laugh, and grabbed his wrist, twisted it until the bones snapped loud enough to echo. He screamed. You slammed him into the wall so hard the stone cracked. The third came next—until your claws tore through his chest and you punched into his stomach, yanking out his organs like candy from a piñata.

"Oooh, so warm~!" you cooed, blood dripping from your chin. "Fresh meat really hits hard."

Mark stood frozen, mouth slightly open. His fists clenched and unclenched like his brain hadn't caught up yet. "What the hell...?"

Nolan didn't speak. His expression was hard, unreadable. But his eyes narrowed—and he took a single step back when you ripped the body in half, gore spraying across the floor in a wet splash.

No mortal prisoner stood before them—but a demon cloaked in flesh.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall as more Viltrumites stormed in, drawn by the alarm—only to find two of their own dead, one barely clinging to life, and you at the center of it all. Blood-drenched, crouched low like a beast, surrounded by the shredded remains of their comrades. You grinned from ear to ear, fangs glinting in the scarlet light, eyes sparkling with joy.

You looked up at the new arrivals and waved with a severed hand.

"More food?" you asked sweetly, licking blood from the stiff fingers in your grasp. "Hell yeah! Looks like we're going full course for breakfast today."

Mark's stomach twisted. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He was frozen in shock, even as his fists clenched on instinct.

Nolan's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening with rage.

And then you moved again—laughing, a blur of gore and teeth as you lunged forward.

The fight erupted.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You left a trail of carnage in your wake—bodies were torn, blood still warm, the taste of Viltrumite flesh clinging to your tongue like candy. They fought hard. Harder than you expected. But not hard enough to stop you.

Some were left twitching on the ground, ribs shattered and lungs heaving. Others were little more than red pulp smeared across the concrete. You didn't kill all of them—not out of mercy, but because you were too full, too high on the rush of violence, and too focused on one thing now.

Escape.

You burst through the final floor like a cannonball, tearing through the layers of the GDA's underground like tissue paper. The red lights still flashed behind you, alarms screamed themselves hoarse. Your bare feet slammed into the cracked pavement of the surface—them you froze.

For the first time in decades, you felt air that hadn't been filtered through vents or tasted like copper. The sky opened above you—gray, grimy, sick with smoke, but still a sky. Buildings stood in disrepair, cracked and leaning, some half-swallowed by the earth like rotting teeth. The world wasn't at peace. But it wasn't the warzone you remembered either.

You stood on shaking legs—bare, blood-streaked, sun-drunk—blinking hard against the harsh, unfiltered daylight. Everything felt too big. Too open. Too quiet. You could still hear the screams of the underground, the alarms howling like dying things, the wet crunch of bone in your teeth. Blood still clung to your mouth like honey.

What happened here—?

A sudden gust of wind blew behind you—it was sharp, fast, and heavy.

Before you could fully turn, something slammed into your cheek like a meteor. The impact sent your body spiraling backward through the air, crashing through an abandoned car and skidding against the pavement before you dug your claws in, stopping yourself with a screech of broken concrete.

You snarled, wiping blood from your mouth, eyes snapping up at the figure hovering midair.

Dark hair. Blood on his fists. Chest rising and falling with tight, controlled fury.

Mark Grayson.

His eyes locked onto you, not with fear—but something worse. Cold, seething frustration. His fists clenched at his sides, twitching like he was holding back the urge to rip you apart on sight. He was scratched up, bruised, panting. Signs of your earlier encounter still painted across his skin. Behind him, more Viltrumites descended from the clouds like vultures, with Nolan among them, arms crossed, silently watching.

"Well, well," you purred, dragging yourself up to your feet with a crooked grin. "Aren't you a pretty one."

Mark didn't waste time. He charged.

You stepped aside like you were dancing, catching his arm mid-swing—but he twisted, and the two of you went crashing into the ground. His body slammed into yours, forcing the air from your lungs. You hit the pavement hard. It cracked beneath you.

You laughed.

Your legs locked around his torso, muscle to muscle, as you twisted and the two of you crashed through the skeleton of another half-standing building.

"Is this how you greet girls these days?" you breathed, grinning at him. "Tsk. No flowers? No sweet talk? Geez. What's up with men lately?"

Mark gritted his teeth, trying to overpower you.

You leaned in close, whispering against his jaw. "You always this rough on your dates, pretty boy?"

The two of you clashed again and again—flesh against flesh, teeth bared, blood spilled. The ground split open beneath your feet with every collision, debris flying, the city echoing with the sound of carnage. You were laughing—breathless, wild, drunk on adrenaline. Mark was giving you a fight, and god, it felt good.

But he was starting to slip.

You saw it in the way his chest heaved, in the slight delay between his punches. And worse—he hesitated. Just once. His gaze dropped to your mouth, flushed and slick with blood, and he flinched when you licked it slow, grinning through the chaos.

"Fuck, that hurts so good..."

That's when they invaded.

The other Viltrumites descended like mad hounds. You didn't get a warning—just the sudden weight of five bodies crashing into you mid-lunge. You screamed, thrashed, tore into one's side with your claws and sent another flying with a headbutt. One tried to grab your wrists but you quickly snapped his fingers like twigs. Another went for your legs and you sunk your heel into his jaw.

You were brutal. A machine built to kill. But they didn’t care. They kept coming.

You growled, nearly feral, muscles screaming under the strain of so many hands forcing you down. Your feet left the ground. You were held in place by sheer numbers that had your back arched and neck straining. One arm was pinned behind you, another around your ribs, another around your throat.

Then you saw... him.

Nolan.

Hovering just out of reach. Watching you with cold judgment in his eyes.

Something inside you snapped.

You lunged, with your head whipping forward like a beast. You nearly got him—teeth bared, inches from tearing into his throat—but you were yanked back at the last second. Still, it rattled them. They didn’t expect you to go for the general.

And neither did Mark.

He moved without thinking and slammed into you with enough force to break a mountain, shoulder in your gut, arm locking around your chest as he drove you to the ground.

"Stop!" he shouted, his breath hot against your skin.

You twisted in his grip—then bit down. Hard.

Your sharp teeth sank into his forearm, tearing its skin, ripping the muscle. He shouted, blood running warm across your tongue. You could taste him—Viltrumite blood, rich and violent, flooding your mouth like a reward.

He yanked his arm back and without pause, drove his fist into your jaw—forcefully.

You were still smiling as you went down, lips smeared in red. "...fucking awesome." you muttered breathless, the taste of Viltrumite blood still warm in your mouth. Your eyes rolled back as the world cracked sideways. Your body slumped and the sky above you blurred. You barely heard the other Viltrumites yelling before your knees buckled and your vision started to go dark.

The last thing you saw was Mark's face—shocked, bleeding, staring down at you like he didn't know whether to be petrified or fascinated.

And then, there were arms around you.

Strong and steady. Definitely his.

Mark caught you before you hit the ground completely, lowering you into his hold like he wasn't still bleeding from your bite, like he didn't just knock you out cold. You didn't feel the relief in the others, or the weight of containment cuffs snapping around your wrists. All you felt was warmth, before darkness swallowed you once again.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You stirred with a groan, pain blooming at the base of your skull. Your body ached, heavy and sore like you've been hit by a planet—and maybe, in a way, you had. Your thoughts came sluggish, swimming through the fog in your head. Voices echoed around you, distant and distorted at first, like they were bouncing off the walls of your skull. But slowly, they grew clearer—they sharpened into words, whispers, and conversations.

Your eyes cracked open.

Bright lights seared into your vision.

You were kneeling.

Both knees pressed against freezing tiles, with your legs spread apart as if it forced open with no mercy. Thick restraints clamped tightly around your wrists behind your back, made of some dense, unyielding alloy that even your strength couldn't break through. The cold kiss of metal crawled over your spine. Chains dug into your skin where you had already been bruised, holding you still.

You were naked.

Completely.

There was no cloth, no covering—nothing to shield you from the cold or the sea of eyes watching from every corner of the stadium. The air prickled along every inch of your exposed skin, and the lights were focused solely on you, spotlighting every inch of your body—every inhuman line, every unnatural curve, every scar and every mark. Every part of what made you a monster was put on display.

A muzzle clamped tightly over the lower half of your face, molded hard against your jaw. It silenced you completely. No speaking. No biting. Just the soft rasp of your breath through your nose, quick and sharp, barely enough to calm the burn in your lungs. Your mouth was sealed shut.

A low growl rumbled from deep in your chest.

The sound cut through the low hum of voices like a blade.

Conversations stopped. Heads turned. The entire stadium fell silent.

Dozens—no, hundreds of eyes snapped to you.

They were all Viltrumites.

All of them. Rows of them, seated in ranks dressed in pristine white uniforms, most of them were cloaked—like some twisted cult of gods looking down at their captured beast. Their faces were cold, observing, and judgmental.

You shot the crowd with a venomous glare.

Then, one of the seated figures stood.

"It seems the beast has finally awoken."

The voice cut clean through the silence—calm, commanding, sharp as a blade. "Good."

General Nolan stepped forward, his presence heavy like gravity, each step deliberate. The stadium seemed to tense beneath his weight. He didn't look away from you, not even once, not even while the crowd of white-cloaked Viltrumites leaned in, listening. Hanging on his every word.

"This is the weapon that slaughtered twenty-seven of our finest." he announced, voice crisp and brutal. "An Earth-born experiment that crawled out of her hole after decades of silence. Not a soldier. Not a warrior. A threat. One that’s proven herself to be something far more dangerous than even a Viltrumite..."

You weren't listening to him.

Not really.

You didn't care for his dramatic little speech. All you cared about was the weight of the chains digging into your wrists and the deep, familiar ache that sparked in your muscles. You shifted on your knees, raw skin scraping against the cold metal floor as you tested your bounds again. Harder. Rougher. You knew they were watching. You simply didn't care.

Your breath came fast through your nose, the muzzle clamped over your mouth keeping you from speaking, biting, screaming. It was tight. Containing. But it wouldn't hold you back forever.

A low growl rumbled in your throat.

Then came the footsteps.

One by one, other Viltrumites stepped forward—soldiers, elites, survivors. Each of them wore the scars of your fury like badges of shame. Torn uniforms, burned skin, bruises blooming down their jaws and ribs. Some limped, others stood stiff and bloodied. They looked like warriors who had fought something far worse than their own.

They stood beside Nolan, forming a silent wall of evidence, an undeniable proof of your destruction.

"...To those who doubt what she's capable of," Nolan continued, gesturing toward them, "Let these survivors be your reminder—of the massacre she unleashed. Of the destruction this monster has caused."

A ripple of hushed awe and unease moved through the stadium. Even behind disgusted whispers and down-turned mouths, you could feel it.

Fear.

Respect.

Even some admiration.

They weren't just looking at you like a monster. No. Some of them were looking at you like you were unstoppable.

A force of nature.

You kept your head high despite the chains, the cold, the exposure. And as your gaze flicked across the stage, your eyes locked on something else—someone else.

Pretty boy.

He was standing just behind Nolan. Silent and stiff.

His face was hard to read, his jaw tight, but his eyes never left yours. Even after everything, he wouldn't stop looking at you.

And then there was Anissa, standing beside him like a shadow. Arms crossed, chin lifted slightly, like she was trying to figure you out. Judging and calculating. Not impressed—but not dismissive, either. She whispered something to Mark, a sharp little comment masked behind a smirk.

He didn't look at her. Didn't react. His gaze was locked on you.

And despite everything—despite the bruises on your body, the metal biting into your wrists, the weight of every eye watching—you smirked behind the muzzle.

Even now. Even here.

You could feel it.

That heat in your veins.

That wild pulse in your chest.

That hunger.

And he was still watching.

Their voices rose around you—cold and calculating, debating your fate like you were some unruly creature rather than a living being. The Viltrumite council spoke in harsh tones. Some suggested you be kept alive for study, molded into a living weapon. Your strength was too rare, too valuable to waste. You were a weapon, after all—unrefined, but powerful. Others disagreed. Their voices were sharp with caution, insisting you were too dangerous, too unpredictable, as you had already killed too many.

But then, the conversation shifted. It spiraled—quicker than your still-throbbing head could follow. But you caught enough.

They weren't talking about justice anymore, or even punishment.

A new thread had slithered into the room, it low and quiet at first. A suggestion that made your skin crawl.

"She's female." one of the council members said plainly, studying you with clinical detachment. "And clearly fertile."

Your jaw clenched behind the muzzle.

"She may be human in origin, but her body’s resilience and strength—those are above even standard Viltrumite females." another added. "Breeding with her could produce a hybrid that surpasses us. A child born of her might become the key to furthering our strength."

Disgust curled in your gut.

Breeding.

Shit. They were seriously discussing breeding you.

You could feel the weight of their eyes on your bare form. They weren’t just looking at a criminal anymore. They were evaluating you like a broodmare.

The female Viltrumites didn't object either. One of them tilted her head and added, "Her frame suggests high reproductive capability. The musculature, the hips, her bone density—everything aligns."

You wanted to laugh. To rip the muzzle off your face and tell them to shove their breeding program up to their asses.

But all you could do was breathe. Controlled, but furious.

And yet… somewhere under the heat of that fury, something twisted—a perverted, morbid curiosity coiled in your gut.

Breeding you?

Like you were some kind of baby-making machine.

You were trained to kill. Built for war. A monster, they said—and now suddenly, they were talking about your hips, your womb, your usefulness as if you were nothing more than a vessel. A thing to be filled, broken, used to build their empire from the inside out.

Your stomach turned. The word fertile echoed in your ears like a curse.

What were you now, a walking cradle? A fucking incubator for the Viltrumite legacy?

And worse—part of you wondered. What would it even look like? You, monstrous and wild, collared and panting beneath someone they chose for you. With your body betraying you. Bearing Viltrumite blood. Creating something terrifying. Something worse.

Something like you.

Your eyes narrowed, seething through your lashes.

You weren't going to let them own you.

But gods, the idea wouldn't leave. It curled around your brain like smoke. Sick. Curious. And Violent.

They didn't want to kill you.

They wanted to breed you.

A tall, scarred warrior stepped forward from the group of survivors—his arm still in a sling, a fresh wound slashed across his chest.

"If she is to be contained," he said, "then she must be broken. Handled. Someone will have to... train her."

The word train sent a flicker of rage down your spine.

"She won't yield to just anyone. Most of us tried, and barely survived. But according to the surviving officers…" His eyes narrowed at you. "There was one who managed to fight her back. Who held his ground longer than anyone else."

You stopped moving.

"Mark Grayson." he said.

The silence that followed was loud. Heavy.

"She responded to him. Almost like she enjoyed it." another commented. "We observed it—she was smiling. Laughing. Every time he hit her, she hit harder. She didn't want to kill him. It's almost like she wanted to play."

The crowd murmured again.

"She was having fun, and yet he still managed to injure her. To bring her down."

Mark's hands were clenched at his sides now, his brows furrowed, jaw tight. His silence said more than words could.

"She's a beast." the first speaker said. "But beasts can be trained. And if anyone is going to do it… it has to be him."

General Nolan finally turned slowly to face his son. "Mark."

Mark lifted his eyes, and for the first time, you saw the faintest flicker of conflict in them.

Nolan's voice rang clear, loud enough for all to hear. Cold. Final.

"She's your responsibility now."

"Break her. Tame her. Turn that wild thing into something useful. Think of it as… training a new pet." Nolan sharply commanded.

The word pet hung in the air, heavy and cruel.

And just like that, the decision was made.

You were no longer just a monster.

You were his task. His burden. His possession.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You were moved into Mark Grayson's private quarters two days later.

You were escorted like an animal—your wrists locked in thick cuffs, a black gag secured tightly between your lips, and a gleaming high-tech collar locked around your neck. It pulsed faintly red, a constant reminder of the shocks it could deliver. You had already learned its bite. The plain white prisoner uniform clung to your body neatly but it couldn't hide the tension in your muscles or the defiance in your eyes. Your hair had been washed, but left wild and tangled, like they hadn't cared to do more than rinse you clean.

His father led the procession, flanked by five other Viltrumites. They walked in silence—grim and towering, like they couldn't wait to be rid of you. When the door to Mark's quarters hissed open, they shoved you forward without care. You stumbled, unbalanced, but didn't fall. You landed on your knees before him, like a stray beast dumped at the feet of her new master.

Mark said nothing.

He stood tall in his pristine white Viltrumite uniform, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. His eyes moved over you—your face, the collar, the gag, the subtle twitch in your smile. You could feel his gaze, cold and heavy, like he was judging you.

He didn't look surprised. He didn't even look particularly interested.

But he looked at you like you were his. Like you were already his.

The cage in the corner of the room was built just for you. Reinforced alloy. Thick bars. It wasn't hidden—it was a fixture in the space, something he'd clearly made room for. You were shoved inside it without grace, and the door clanged shut with a low, echoing finality.

His father said a few quiet words before departing with the others. Something about obedience. About control. Mark nodded, silent and cold, never once looking at you again until they were gone.

Only then did he approach the cage.

You were lying inside, already curled on your side like a cat. When he finally turned his gaze to you, you met it with a wink.

He stared at you with an unreadable expression. There was no lust, no hatred—just something… calculating. You could sense the effort it took him to stay composed, to look down at you and not act. You could feel the discomfort behind that stare. And you loved it.

He left you alone after that.

But when he returned hours later, the cage was torn open like it was made of paper. One of the bars was bent backward, and sparks flickered where the internal locking system had fried. You sat lazily in the center of his bed, legs tucked under you, the remains of your uniform hanging from your hips. Your upper body was bare—slick with sweat and blood, lips red from raw meat as you gnawed on something half-cooked

It stained his bedsheets. It stained your fingers.

He stopped in the doorway and stared at you for a long moment.

Then he exhaled slowly and murmured, "I really hoped you'd stay in the cage."

You licked your fingers, then flashed him a lazy grin. "I'm not an animal, Grayson."

He said nothing as he entered, stripping out of his uniform until he was half-naked. He moved toward the small kitchen like you weren't there, calm and composed, even as you followed him with your eyes, your teeth still sunk into the meat in your lap.

"Don't you have anything better to wear? Didn't my father give you something?" he asked over his shoulder.

You stood behind him now, silent, completely naked. You stretched your arms up—slowly, deliberately—exposing yourself without a single shred of shame.

"Ooh, don't like what you see?" you asked, with your voice sickly sweet.

Mark didn't turn around. "You don't get to tease me, pet."

Your smile widened. "That collar says otherwise."

And then—before you could take another step toward him—it sparked. Electricity crackled across your throat in a violent shock. You collapsed to the floor with a hiss, trembling and panting, but still smiling through the pain. He still didn't turn around.

"You're mine." he said flatly. "And pets don't speak without permission."

You lay there twitching on the floor, laughter bubbling from your throat even as your body spasmed.

You were such a problem. A walking mess of temptation and chaos. A feral, sharp-toothed creature he hadn't tamed yet. You stalked around his space like a spoiled cat—shedding blood, climbing on his things, curling up naked where you didn't belong. You didn't eat the rations he gave you. You rejected everything cooked. Mark quickly learned that the only way to keep you fed was raw meat, still dripping. And when he gave in and brought it, you looked at him with gleaming eyes like he was rewarding you.

He hated that. Hated the way you made him feel like he enjoyed your presence. Like he looked forward to your games.

You were always touching his things, brushing against him when he walked past, whispering into his ear when he tried to sleep.

"You're fun when you're pretending not to want me." you whispered one night, your breath warm against his neck. "I was just wondering how long it would take before you finally snapped."

His hand gripped your jaw tight, forcing your gaze to meet his. His thumb brushed slowly along your collar

"I will break you..." he murmured, voice low and lethal. "And you'll beg me for it."

You met his threat with a wicked smile, eyes gleaming with challenge.

Gods, you were such a naughty thing.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

Living with Mark was a war of nerves.

He didn't speak much, not unless he had to. He gave orders, not conversation. Every time he walked into the room, he expected obedience—and every time, you gave him the exact opposite.

He tried to tame you with structure. Routine. Food. Clean quarters. The cage—still bolted to the corner of his room—was meant to remind you that no matter where you roamed, this was still captivity. You were still his.

And yet, you prowled through his space like a cat. A filthy, bloodthirsty little thing with sharp teeth and mischief in her eyes.

You made a game out of pissing him off.

You ripped the sleeves off the black Viltrumite uniform he had ordered for you, claiming they were itchy—then refused to wear anything else. You slept wherever you pleased, most often curled in his bed, stretched across the sheets like you owned them. You dripped blood on his floors from your stolen snacks, purred at him in mockery, and bared your teeth every time he looked too calm. You called him "pretty boy," "master," "hot stuff" and "Grayson," depending on what reaction you were hunting for.

Sometimes, you stood right in front of him, naked and smiling, collar still glowing red.

Sometimes, he didn't say anything.

Sometimes, he did.

And when he did, it was never nice.

Still, you could feel it—beneath all that authority and arrogance, something was cracking. Every time you got under his skin, every time his jaw clenched and his fists curled, you felt it coming closer. That first fight between you hadn't just been survival—it had been ecstasy. Something deep in your corrupted instincts craved the collision again. The pain. The rush. The blood. And the way he had looked at you, panting, bruised, victorious.

You wanted to taste it again.

But Mark had been sent off-world. Called away on a brutal conquest with other Viltrumites. Rumors spread fast—it had been ugly. Ugly and loud. You could practically hear the taunts in his ears, the rage in his fists. You knew how he got when pushed too far.

So you pushed him further.

By the time he returned, there was blood on Viltrum's walls.

You had tried to escape.

You tore through six Viltrumites before they even realized what was happening. Ate one. Injured another so badly they couldn't walk. You laughed the whole time, dripping with gore, half-mad with the thrill of it. You're not actually trying to leave, not really. You just wanted to fight. You wanted to feel alive again.

Once they captured you, they threw you into one of their most heavily guarded prisons. Chained you like the monster they said you were. But not before you left your mark.

So when Mark came home—wounded, furious, soaked in blood and sweat—he didn't go back to his quarters.

He went straight to the prison.

And when the cell door hissed open, there you were. Naked again, legs casually crossed, sitting on the floor like a satisfied beast after a feast, while still wearing your collar like a choker. Your mouth was stained with red. Your arms were chained above your head, but your eyes were calm—glowing with smugness and something else.

You tilted your head. "Welcome home, pretty boy~"

He stepped inside. The door sealed shut behind him with a cold hiss, and he didn't speak. He just stared and his silence was loud.

You didn't lower your gaze. Didn't shift or flinch under the weight of it. You wanted this—you wanted that fire in his eyes, the heat of fury crawling down his spine. You wanted that unhinged thing in him to wake up. To bare its teeth. To bite you back.

You smiled, slow and sharp. "You look like shit."

His jaw tightened. The cuts on his face were still fresh. Blood streaked down the side of his neck, half-dried, and his hands were trembling from self-control.

You cocked your head, chains clinking above you. "What's wrong? Mission didn't go so well? Or are you just mad I had a little fun while you were gone?"

You let out a giggle as he moved closer. Boots echoing off the cold floor. You shifted, legs still crossed, thighs open just enough to tempt.

"You killed six." Mark said, voice laced with coldness, "Injured five more."

You smiled with your teeth. "I was hungry."

His palm cracked across your face before you even finished the sentence.

Your head jerked to the side, the taste of copper blooming on your tongue. You spat, a string of red falling to the floor between your knees, then looked up at him with a smug, bloodstained grin. "There he is…"

He stepped closer. Towering. Trembling with restrained fury.

"You think this is funny?" he snarled.

You laughed, low and taunting. "It's hilarious, actually. They cried so loud. Struggled like babies. You should've seen their faces, pretty boy." Your voice lowered to a mock whisper. "I think you're getting soft on me. Not the same Viltrumite who left me broken on a battlefield."

His eye twitched. His chest rose and fell like he was holding back the urge to throw you through the wall.

"What do you want, huh?" he snapped. "Another beating?"

You cocked your head, smile dripping arrogance. "I want to see you snap. I want the same fire that pinned me down and made me feel alive. You've been boring since you brought me here... there's no fun."

Something shifted in his face—a cold fury, flickering with something darker.

His hands moved.

He simply undid the belt of his white Viltrumite uniform, then let the fabric drop away just enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, and mean. Veins tracing the length like dark roads, the head was wet and angry.

You blinked. Frowning, your mouth twisting into a sneer. "Eww, gross—what the fuck do you think I'm gonna do with that!?"

Mark stepped forward, towering over your chained form. His hand wrapped around your collar, tilting your head back roughly.

"Open your mouth."

"Fuck you."

"I swear," he growled, leaning down until his breath scorched your lips, his voice is low and seething, "If you don't open your fucking mouth, I'll tear your jaw open and shove my cock down your throat until you forget how to breathe."

Your eyes narrowed as you watched Mark stand tall before you, his 8.5 to 9-inch cock jutting out, the swollen tip slapping lewdly against your parting lips. You could feel the heat radiating off his thick shaft, smell the heady musk of his arousal. His girthy length hovered dangerously close to your face, a silent threat and a promise of what's to come.

You opened your mouth slowly, not out of submission or eagerness, but to bare the sharp, wicked teeth you were so proudly known for. It was a challenge, a silent dare. Your tongue darted out, flicking against the weeping slit of his cockhead in a teasing caress that was barely a touch.

Mark's eyes flashed dangerously as you slowly parted your lips, revealing the glint of your sharp teeth. This was no act of submission, but a silent challenge thrown down between you. "Tuck those fangs away." he growled, his grip in your hair tightening warningsly.

You met his glare with a defiant tilt of your chin, not complying. "Make me." you taunted, your voice dripping with insolence even as his fingers dug into your scalp.

A dark snarl rumbled in Mark's chest. "Brat," he spat. His other hand shot out, gripping your collar possessively. "If I feel even a graze of those little fangs on my cock, I will snap your fucking neck. Got it?"

Before you could react, he pushed it forward, the thick head of his dick forcing your lips apart and stretching them obscenely around his girth. You gasped as he pushed deeper, your throat squeezing around its size. The tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat, making you gag reflexively.

Mark paused, allowing your throat to adjust to his size. His thumb stroked along your jawline, not a gentle caress, but a dominant, controlling gesture. "Breathe through your nose." he commanded gruffly. "You can take it."

Trapped and stuffed full, your glare was your only remaining weapon. Mark started to move, his thrusts initially slow and deliberate. Each drag of his thick length along your tongue and throat sends jolts of unwanted pleasure through you. As if your body is betraying you, you can feel your cunt pulsing, clenching around nothing as he used your mouth.

His pace increased, fucking your face hard and rough. Wet, filthy sounds of flesh slapping echoed through your cell. Drool and precum mingled, dripping down to your collar and to the floor. He gripped your hair tighter, holding your head still as he hilted with each brutal thrust.

He forced you to take his entire length, over and over, balls slapping against your spit-slicked chin. Tears streamed down your face from the relentless face-fucking and lack of oxygen, but he showed no mercy.

Suddenly, with a harsh tug on your hair, he yanked your head back and pulled out abruptly. You gasped desperately, drawing ragged breaths, thick ropes of your saliva was connected to his cock and the head of his dick was an angry red, flushed and leaking, hovering inches from your face.

It was then silent between the two of you, nothing but the sound of heavy breathing filling the tense air. His chest rose and fell, sweat beading at his temples, while you knelt there—lips swollen, throat aching, eyes glassy and unfocused from the brutal rhythm he'd forced on you.

Your head swayed slightly, lightheaded and dazed, the aftershocks of it still buzzing through your body like static. You blinked up at him, not out of defiance this time, but because your mind hadn't caught up yet—too fogged to realize he had pulled out without even cumming.

Mark grasped the metal cuff binding your wrists and, with a simple flex of his superhuman strength, tore it apart like it was nothing more than paper. The sudden release sent you off balance that you collapsed forward with a grunt, catching yourself on your hands and knees in an undignified sprawl. Before you could push yourself up, his fingers hooked under your chin, jerking your head back to meet his gaze.

A slow, mocking smirk tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of your disheveled state. Then, without a word, he grabbed you and with a sharp, effortless motion, hauled you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. The air rushed out of your lungs as your body collided with the hard wall of his chest, muscles shifting beneath you as he began walking out of your cell.

As you attempted to slip free from his hold, one hand gripped your rear possessively, giving it a sharp, punishing slap. The stinging pain radiated through you, a silent warning from him. You bit back a yelp, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out.

Mark walked down the corridor in heavy silence, his steps echoing ominously as he carried you like a trophy draped over his shoulder. Viltrumite guards paused to stare, their gazes lingering on your bare, used form. You could feel their eyes crawling over your skin, filled with assumptions, judgment, maybe even envy at the power play unfolding in front of them. You shot them a sharp side-glare, though the faint blush dusting your cheeks betrayed the heat pooling beneath your skin.

Without breaking a stride, Mark took off into the air, the force of his flight making the wind whip past your ears. In seconds, you landed hard on the balcony of his private quarters. He barely gave you a moment to react before tossing you onto the bed like you were nothing more than his personal possession. The moment your back hit the mattress, he was already stripping off his bloodied uniform before crawling on top of you, pinning you down with the full weight of his body.

And then his mouth crashed onto yours. It was not gentle or loving but a brutal claiming. His tongue forced its way past your lips to dominate your mouth. He poured all his pent-up frustration and lust into the kiss, one hand gripping your hair to hold you in place as he plundered your mouth.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he released your bruised lips, both of you panting harshly. "You've done nothing but push and provoke me—every damn chance you got." he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "But now? You're right where I want you."

With one swift motion, he caught both of your wrists and pinned them above your head in one large, unyielding hand, pressing them into the mattress. His body hovered close, radiating with heat and fury as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "No more games."

Mark shifted his hips, positioning himself between your spread thighs. The thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance, already slick with your unwilling arousal. "It's time someone taught you the meaning of obedience." he rasped. "And I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."

With a single, brutal thrust, he slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, dripping cunt. A guttural moan tore from his throat as his aching cock sank into the silken heat of your depths. Your back arched off the bed, a scream of pained pleasure punching from your lungs as you were split open on his massive shaft.

"AAHH~!"

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight..." Mark grunted, giving you a moment to adjust to his size stretching you wide. "This cunt was made for my cock." He rolled his hips, grinding against your cervix, before pulling back and slamming in again.

Each relentless thrust sent lewd, wet sounds bouncing off the walls, your moans rising higher with every slap of skin against skin. His free hand roamed up your body, seizing your breast in a firm grip, fingers digging its softness as he pounded into you without mercy.

"Aah! Aah! Aah! Fuck! Mark! Mark—!"

Mark's mouth found your neck, his lips and teeth teasing over the sensitive skin. He licked and nipped at your racing pulse before soothing the sting with his tongue, almost tenderly. Mark's lips trailed up to your ear as he continued his relentless pace. "That's right. Scream for me." he demanded, voice a guttural rasp. "Let them hear who owns you now." His hand slid from your breast to your throat, fingers wrapping around it possessively, not squeezing, but with the clear threat of doing so.

He pistioned his hips faster, each powerful thrust striking your cervix and sending bolts of white-hot pleasure spiking up your spine. Your cunt clenched and fluttered around his plundering cock, slick walls gripping him like a velvet vice. The stimulation was overwhelming, pushing you rapidly towards a peak.

Mark panted harshly, sweat dripping down his brow from exertion. "Take my cock. Fucking take it, you whore." His grip on your hair and throat tightened in tandem with his increasingly brutal thrusts.

He could feel your body tensing, your legs starting to quake. "No." he growled. "Don't you dare cum without my permission." To emphasize his point, he reached between your bodies and pressed down hard on your clit, pinching the sensitive nub almost cruelly.

"No! No! Aah! I-It's too much! Aah! I can't—AAHH~!" Your back arched, a scream ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Your cunt spasmed and clenched wildly, milking Mark's hard cock as wave after wave of ecstasy consumed you.

Mark groaned, the rhythmic squeezing of your cunt pushing him closer to his own release. "You think you deserve to come after all the shit you've pulled? You'll be punished for this." he growled, his hips slamming into yours with a punishing force as he chased his own pleasure.

With one last, brutal thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside of you. His cock jerked and throbbed as it unleashed it's hot, thick ropes of seed directly into your spasming walls. He filled you with his essence, flooding your empty womb, until you were overflowing.

As the final pulses of your shared climax fades away , Mark collapsed onto you, pinning you into the mattress. He caught your lips in a searing kiss, more passionate and intense than the one before. When he finally broke away, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes searching yours with a dark, triumphant gleam.

"We're not done yet. You think you get to rest after cumming without permission?" he growled.

Your hazy eyes fluttered open, cheeks flushed deep red. Still breathless, you gave him a small, teasing smile as you slowly dragged your wet tongue across your lips, hungry for more.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

The night blurred into a haze of relentless, brutal coupling. Mark's stamina seemed boundless as he took you in every position imaginable, each thrust driving into you with punishing force and precision. The bed creaked and groaned beneath the onslaught, a lewd symphony of carnal lust.

You were drunk on pleasure, drowning in the overwhelming sensations of his body claiming yours over and over. Laughter bubbled from your lips, interspersed with wanton moans and cries of ecstasy. It was a stark contrast to the pain and fury of your first fight; this was a different kind of battle, one where you found yourself surrendering to the enemy's touch.

"Look at you," Mark growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he pounded into you from behind. "Taking my cock like a bitch in heat." His hands gripped your hips bruisingly, fingers sinking into the flesh as he rutted into you with wild abandon. "Such a good little pet."

He leaned down, teeth finding your ear as his hips snapped forward, striking your cervix dead-on. "You're going to look beautiful, all round and full with my child..." he murmured, voice dripping with dark promise. The filthy words sent a shiver down your spine, even as a traitorous part of you thrilled at the idea.

Your body was a canvas of marks and bruises, each one a testament to his ferocious desire. Your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust, the two slick with sweat and come. The obscene squelch of his seed sloshing inside you with each roll of your hips was the only sound louder than your escalating moans.

You lost count of the number of times he filled you, painting your insides white with his release. Your womb was flooded, as your belly starting to swell with the sheer volume of his cum. It looked as if you were already pregnant, the bulge of his seed a perverse parody of new life.

As dawn approached, Mark finally slowed, his thrusts growing less urgent as he chased his final climax. With a hoarse shout, he buried himself to the hilt, cock jerking and pulsing as he pumped you full once more. He collapsed against your back, crushing you into the mattress with his weight.

After a long moment, he rolled onto his side, spooning you from behind. Mark's strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your limp, body flush against his chest. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of sex and sweat that clung to your skin. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, gradually slowing as exhaustion claimed him.

As exhaustion threatened to pull you under into a deep, dreamless slumber, Mark's strong arms encircled you from behind, holding you close against his muscular chest. He curled around your limp body like a lover, one hand possessively splayed across the slight swell of your belly, feeling the way it strained with the heavy load of his seed trapped inside you. A look of dark satisfaction flickered across his chiseled features as he surveyed the results of his relentless claiming.

"Rest now, my love." he whispered against your ear, a tender darkness in his tone. "Close your eyes… because when you wake up, I'm going to make you mine all over again."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𖹭 please don't repost, publish, or translate this shit anywhere. You don't have the right to do that. Thank you for understanding.

Divider made by @cafekitsune ୨ৎ