#just here for the invincidih

[jaid-is-sideways]

why was the first half of invincible season 3's budget spent on cecil pressing that button

[lazy-ahh]

Oooooh superhero gn reader x Viltrumite mark, please! During the Invincible War, Mark goes to take reader back to his universe, saying he’s missed them and their life together. Reader rejects him, and makes a deal: if reader wins, Mark has to stop wrecking chaos on the planet. If mark wins, reader will go back with him and whatever ‘life’ they created. And reader ends up losing. :)))

THE WRONG UNIVERSE TO LOVE YOU IN

pairing viltrum! mark grayson x (superhero) gender neutral reader

this one wants you back. the problem? you don't belong to him. you belong to the mark who loves eve, the mark who will never know you loved him first, the mark whose laugh still echoes in your dreams. now, as his fingers wipe blood from your face with terrifying gentleness, reality splits open: stay and die for a love that was never yours, or let him steal you away to a world where you were his—where you'll always be second to a ghost of yourself. (he promises to be better. you almost believe him.)

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff

the sky is bleeding red when he finds you—a sickly crimson streaked with smoke, the air thick with the scent of burning metal and charred flesh. the distant wails of sirens blend into the chaos, a symphony of destruction that never seems to end.

you’re panting, your bruised knuckles pressed into the cracked pavement as you push yourself up, every muscle screaming in protest. the city around you is a graveyard—skyscrapers reduced to skeletal husks, streets littered with bodies, some still twitching, others long gone. the invincible war has turned your world into a slaughterhouse, and standing in the middle of it all, untouched by the ruin, is him.

mark grayson.

but not your mark.

this one is different—sharp where your best friend is soft, his jaw set in a hard line, his eyes dark with something unreadable. there’s a cruel twist to his lips, a coldness in his stare that makes your stomach knot. he wears the viltrumite empire’s uniform, the sleek, lighter armor a stark contrast to the torn superhero costumes scattered around you. a few blood stains littered the fabric, some of it still fresh, glistening under the firelight. it’s not just from battle—no, this mark wears it like a trophy.

you had just finished killing other variants of him, their lifeless eyes staring up at you, their faces so familiar it made your hands shake. you mourned them, grieved for the versions of you in their worlds who must have loved them as fiercely as you love yours. your breath still comes in ragged gasps, your heart pounding not just from exhaustion, but from the weight of what you’ve done.

and then he arrived.

this mark moves with a predator’s grace, his steps measured, his shoulders squared with the confidence of someone who’s never lost. there’s a quiet intensity in the way he surveys the wreckage—like a king surveying his domain. but when his eyes land on you, something shifts. the cold superiority in his gaze softens, just for a second, before he schools his expression back into something unreadable.

"there you are," he says, voice low, almost reverent, like he’s been searching through a thousand broken worlds just to find you. the way his eyes trace over you—lingering on the blood smeared across your cheek, the way your chest heaves with exhaustion—makes your skin prickle. it’s not relief in his tone. it’s claiming.

and you realize, with a sinking dread that coils like ice in your gut, that this isn’t over. it’s only beginning.

"missed you," he murmurs, the words rough, scraped raw from his throat. his voice is different from your mark’s—deeper, edged with a hunger that makes your pulse stutter. he says it like he’s been holding it in for years, like he’s carved the words into his ribs just to keep them close.

your chest tightens, heart hammering against your sternum. you’ve heard the stories—whispers of alternate marks, warped by viltrum’s cruelty, ripping through dimensions to drag back what they think belongs to them. and now he’s here, standing in the wreckage of your city, looking at you like you’re a ghost he’s been chasing. like you’re already his.

"you don’t even know me," you spit, swiping the back of your hand across your split lip. the metallic tang of blood coats your tongue, bitter and familiar.

he tilts his head, considering you with a gaze that feels like a physical touch. "i know enough," he says, voice dropping into something dangerously soft. "in my world, you were mine." his thumb brushes over a streak of dirt on your jaw, possessive and tender all at once. "we had a life. a future." his eyes darken, something feral flickering behind them. "i’m taking you back."

your fists clench, nails biting into your palms hard enough to draw blood. you think of your mark—the boy who scraped his knees racing you down suburban streets, whose laughter was always a little too loud, a little too bright. the one who looks at eve like she hung the stars, while you’ve spent years swallowing down words that taste like rust and regret.

"what happened to me?" you choke out, the question tearing from you like a wound ripped open. "in your world. did i—" your voice fractures. "did i love you too? or did you just force me to?"

his pupils dilate, just slightly, the only crack in his controlled facade. for a heartbeat, he looks almost human. "you begged me to stay," he says, low and rough, like the memory is a blade twisting in his gut. "the night before the viltrumite fleet came. you held onto me like you knew." his jaw tightens. "then they burned our world to ash. but you—" his thumb presses against your pulse point, a mockery of tenderness. "you were always meant to survive."

the air leaves your lungs. you can see it—some other version of you, screaming as the sky split open, clinging to a monster because they didn’t know he’d become one.

"no."

his expression darkens—not like a storm rolling in, but like a door slamming shut. the brief vulnerability in his eyes snuffs out, pupils contracting into something cold and calculating. his jaw tightens, the muscle flexing as his teeth grind together, like he’s biting back words he’ll never say. the softness that had flickered across his face for just a second hardens into something unreadable, the lines of his face sharpening into a mask of imperial discipline.

but his eyes—oh, his eyes. they’re not just empty. they’re hungry.

the way he looks at you isn’t just possessive. it’s devouring. his gaze drags over you like he’s memorizing the shape of your defiance, like he can’t wait to break it apart and remake you into something that fits in the hollow of his hands. his lips twitch, not into a smirk, but into something far more dangerous—a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, a smile that says, you think you have a choice?

and then, just like that—it’s gone. his face smooths back into viltrumite indifference, as if that momentary crack in his armor had never existed. but you saw it. you felt it. and that’s what terrifies you the most. "you don’t get a choice."

"then fight me for it," you snap, surging forward until your forehead hovers a breath away from his, close enough to feel the heat of his skin, close enough to count the flecks of gold in his darkened eyes. the scent of smoke and iron and something uniquely him clings to the space between you, thick enough to choke on. he doesn’t flinch—doesn’t even breathe—just holds your gaze with a half-lidded, almost lazy intensity, like you’re a puzzle he’s already solved.

then his eyes drag downward, slow and deliberate, lingering on the part of your lips, the quickened rise and fall of your chest. there’s no shame in it, no pretense—just hunger, plain and unapologetic. your pulse stutters. for one terrifying second, you almost falter, because this isn’t the look of a conqueror assessing his enemy.

it’s the look of a man remembering how you taste.

"if i win, you leave this planet alone. if you win…" your voice wavers as a memory blindsides you—your mark’s face, soft in the moonlight on his rooftop, his fingers brushing yours as he smiled at you with something warm and unreadable. you’d let yourself imagine, just for a second, that it was love. that it could be you.

now, you’re bargaining with a ghost of him.

"i’ll go with you," you whisper.

he grins finally, all teeth, but still disciplined—like he’s savoring the way your breath hitches when he leans in. "deal."

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

the battle is brutal.

you’re strong—strong enough to have shattered the ribs of other marks, strong enough to have left their bodies broken in the rubble of this war. but him? he’s something else entirely. every hit he lands cracks through your bones like fault lines, every impact vibrating through your teeth until your jaw aches. you dodge, but you’re always a half-second too slow, his fist grazing your cheekbone hard enough to send stars exploding across your vision.

and the worst part? he’s smiling. small and private just for you, but still there.

not the sharp, cruel grin of a conqueror—no, this is lazy, almost playful, like he’s savoring the way your breath comes in ragged gasps, the way your muscles scream as you push yourself beyond limits that should have broken you already. he’s toying with you, you realize with a sickening lurch. not because he needs to, but because he wants to see how long you’ll last.

"you took down six of them," he muses, catching your fist mid-swing like it’s nothing, his fingers tightening until your knuckles creak in protest. "six of me." his voice drops, something almost like pride curling through it. "that’s not nothing."

then his knee slams into your gut, and the world blurs.

you don’t even feel the moment his fist collides with your ribs—just the sickening crunch, the way your body folds around the impact before you’re hurled backward, crashing through concrete and steel like paper. debris hails down around you, dust choking your lungs as you gasp, vision swimming in and out of black.

when the ringing in your ears fades, he’s already there, crouched beside you with all the casual grace of a predator who’s never known fear. his fingers brush the hair from your face, smearing blood across your temple in a mockery of tenderness.

"you put up a good fight," he murmurs, thumb dragging over your split lip. his voice is almost fond, like he’s praising a well-trained weapon. "stronger than most. smarter, too." his grip tightens, just slightly, forcing your gaze up to his. "but you were never gonna win."

your body screams—muscles torn, bones fractured, blood pooling beneath you like a second shadow. but the pain in your chest is worse, a hollowed-out wound no advanced viltrumite healing could ever fix. you think of your mark—his stupid, lopsided smile, the way his voice softened when he said your name, the light in his eyes when he looked at eve—a light that was never, ever for you.

and now you’ll never tell him.

"promise me," you whisper, the words slick with blood, metallic and bitter on your tongue. there’s so much more you want to say—begging, pleading things that claw at your throat like trapped birds. promise me you’ll love me. promise me i won’t just be another trophy. promise me you won’t get bored and break me when i’m no longer new. promise me you won't throw me aside like he did. but all that comes out is: "promise you’ll leave this world alone."

mark’s thumb drags across your cheekbone, smearing dirt and blood in a mockery of gentleness. his touch is warm, almost reverent, like you’re something precious instead of something stolen. "i promise," he says, and for a heartbeat, his voice is so soft it almost sounds like the boy you knew.

then his arms lock around you, lifting you against his chest like you weigh nothing. the sky splinters above you—crimson and gold and burning, the last beautiful thing you’ll ever see.

(and somewhere, in another life, your mark screams your name, raw and shattered, as the rubble of your city collapses around him. but you’re already gone, and the universe does not care.)

1.9k words full of my number one favourite invincible variant!! thank you so much to the anon who requested this one-shot heheheh <33

[asaarii]

this is pure self-indulgent filth so 18+ I suppose bc I #need that invincidih when gaming also my first smut pls be nice or ill cry

You knew you shouldn’t have listened to him when he promised to keep his hands to himself, sitting comfortably on your bed with the newest issue of Seance Dog in his grasp. You eyed him suspiciously, your arms crossed as you looked at him from head to toe. He only smiled that damn disarming grin of his, settling against your freshly made sheets.

You trusted him.

Stupid horny Mark. Stupid horny brain.

It started with asking for kisses between deaths, slowly devolving into you sitting in his lap. Innocently, of course. Until it wasn’t. Until you felt a familiar weight against the curve of your ass and the gentle prod of his fingers, pulling your panties and shorts to the side.

“Promise not to move, baby. Won’t even know I’m here,” he’d said; as if the sheer size of him wasn’t enough to take your breath away.

You’d stupidly allowed his fingers to open you up, your eyes rolling back mid-teamfight as his thumb rubbed harsh circles on your clit. Perhaps you should have protested harder, clenched your thighs against his bullying fingers that curled oh-so-deliciously inside you. 

Maybe you would’ve had the decency to let him take you on the bed if you weren’t on a godforsaken loss streak. But you never end on a loss, even if it meant starving your insatiable boyfriend. 

Though, you never were one to deny him for too long. Especially when he pleaded so nicely to simply cockwarm. So, it wasn’t long until your shorts and underwear were soon discarded and his bulbous tip caught against your fluttering pussy, each push tantalizingly slow as you queued up for another match.

Which leads you to where you are now.

Your hand clicking furiously on your keyboard, your mouse gliding across your mouse pad as muscle memory takes over. The combo etched into your brain playing out before your eyes. You’re left with a sliver of health but are lucky enough to live another day. Annoying Riven thought she could get away from you? Ha! Not in her wildest dreams.

A familiar touch brushes your hip as you lean back into your boyfriend, his lips mumbling sweet, overstimulated nothings into your neck. His hips buck into yours from below, causing you to jolt and glare at him when your screen goes gray.

“Mark.” Your voice comes out more breathless than stern, your back arching slightly the further he drives his cock. Your grip on your mouse tightens as you misclick, the feel of him twitching inside you slowly growing to become too much.

“‘M sorry,” he pants into your skin, mouthing and licking at the sweat gathered at the nape of your neck. “You just feel so good.” Always the wanderer, his hands slip up your—his—shirt, palming at your breast with perfectly calloused hands.

“I need to focus, this is my—mgh! Stop moving…!” Your thighs quiver on each side of his lap, held open by his unfair Viltrumite physique. You try your best to keep your attention on the game, keeping your CS up to the best of your ability and taking picks when you’re able to.

The moan that pulls itself from his lips is borderline pornographic, matched only by your loud whines. The screen goes gray as you die again, and you take the chance to push against his abdomen to try and slow his incessant grinding. But it does little to deter him in his pussydrunk haze, for better or for worse.

Damn him and his Viltrumite genes.

“At least slow—slow down, dumbass.”

“Sorry…Sorry. Can’t help it.” He rolls your hardened nipple between his fingers, trying to still his canting hips to the best of his ability as his apologies fall deaf on your ears. His spit-coated lips find your jaw just below your headset, pressing feather-light kisses to the skin—a stark contrast to the muscled planes of his hips pressed flush against yours.

A few grueling minutes pass before the enemy nexus finally falls, and for the first time today, “VICTORY” flashes across your screen. You barely have time to react after taking off your headset before Mark pins your knees to your chest with unparalleled strength, fucking up into you with the desperation of a man starved.

You keen at the sudden intensity, hands blindly reaching behind you as you try to find something to hold onto. They settle on his hair, tugging at the raven locks hard enough to have a normal man in tears. But, luckily for you, Mark was no normal man, if the deep pleasured rumble from his chest was anything to go by. Or maybe he was just a masochist. Honestly, it was hard to tell with him sometimes.

“Mark.” 

His name falls from your lips a whimpered plea, caught between a string of wanton moans and short gasps. And fuck does it drive him crazy.

You tilt your head back and are met with the instantaneous feel of his lips on yours. It’s a messy mesh of tongue, teeth, and spit, with neither of you really fighting for any sort of dominance, only basking in the feel of each other. He stutters out a pretty, broken gasp when you drag your nails down his sensitive nape, though his hips never once lose their rhythm. 

“I. Love. You. So. M-Much.” Each of his words is punctuated by a hard thrust, and you begin to feel the coil deep in your stomach tighten when one of his hands drops a leg in favor of messily rubbing your clit. The new angle has him pressed against the spot that has you seeing stars, even without his ability to fly, your toes curling tightly in your Invincible-themed socks.

“Fuck…You’re close, aren’t you? Cum for me, baby. C’mon, need to feel you cum around my cock,” he babbles sweetly in your ear, his voice the only thing you can make out other than the wet schlick of his shaft pumping into your sopping cunt.

Your lips part as the coil snaps, your hips attempting to pull away from Mark as the intensity of your orgasm hits you hard. His forearm pins you against him as he fucks you through your high, though his pace seems to falter considerably as he, too, nears his peak.

“Where do you want me?” His hoarse voice barely manages to reach you through your prolonged orgasm haze, but you unconsciously tighten at the show of consideration. He groans against your shoulder, the hand still holding your leg up trembling with pleasure.

“Inside,” you gasp out, pulling him in for one last kiss before he spills deep within you. He whines against your lips as his dick twitches with every spurt of cum he shoots inside you.

When you pull back from the kiss, you’re met with the breathtaking sight of Mark’s debauched yet adoring expression. His pupils are blown out, the black nearly overtaking all of the warm brown you could spend hours getting lost in. You reach your hand up despite the awkward angle to caress his cheek and he seemingly melts at the soft touch.

His chest heaves with effort as he catches his breath, his tongue darting out to lick his kiss-bitten lips before he gives you a soft smile. “Hi,” he croons softly, acting as though he wasn’t rearranging your guts a few minutes prior.

You snort in response, leaning your back against him with an equally loving gaze. “Hey to you, too.” You glance to your legs, shooting him a sheepish look. “Help me clean up? You can tell me all about the newest issue or something.”

He laughs, burying his nose in your hair while he easily maneuvers you in his arms to carry you to the bathroom. “You’d never guess what happens with Iron Knight.”

Your arms easily wrap around his neck even though you know he’d never drop you. “No,” you gasp, a look of offense crossing your features.

Mark only smiles passively, his gaze full of nothing short of absolute devotion as he stares at your pinched expression. Something stirs deep inside him when the imperceptible sound of your mixed cum oozing out of you reaches his sensitive ears. “Oh, yes.”

©asarii 2025 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site

[jaid-is-sideways]

get me AWAY from the invincincels

no amber isn't that annoying just say ur misogynistic and racist

[jaid-is-sideways]

my new invincible war oc

his names "SEA SALT"

[jaid-is-sideways]

my hummus says sea salt on it is this an invincible reference

[jaid-is-sideways]

rudy the robot execution when

he is SO ANNOYING and literally just ragebaits

which like SPOILER alert below

at rex's funeral when he's like "my name is rex to honor him!" i feel like A.M. with how much i HATE him I'm supposed to be doing my latin homework but my blood is BOILING I HATE HIM

it's just upsetting because first his likeness was stolen, and then rudy went and stole HIS NAME WHICH WAS THE ONLY THING REX TRULY HAD LEFT GODDAMIT

[jaid-is-sideways]

guys my girlfriends trying to learn how to use tumblr this is so funny

@skuttiez