#omni-mark

[red-rift]

I can take them all

( not in a fight )

[lazy-ahh]

Lazy-ahh! Can I request Omni-Mark x male reader? 🩷

Like, what if Reader ENJOYS being Mark’s pet? Sure, people on the outside would think it’s inhumane, believing Mark is a control freak who forced Reader into this, but they’re wrong. Reader wanted this, to give up control because he loves being taken care of by Mark and lives for his praise. Mark knows what’s best for him. Mark controls so many aspects of Reader’s life, even down to the simplest stuff, that it weirdly feels like safety and love in disguise.

The more I typed this out, the more I realized this is basically collaring—. Which I meeeean 👀 If you’re okay with.

HIS TO KEEP

pairing omni! mark grayson x male reader

they’d call it toxic. you call it love. mark decides what you eat, what you wear, when you come—and you wouldn’t have it any other way. after all, who needs freedom when you have him?

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff

you’re kneeling at his feet when he gets home, just like he asked—knees pressed to the hardwood floor, hands resting limp on your thighs, head slightly bowed in submission. the wood is cool against your bare skin, a faint ache already settling in from staying so still, but you don’t dare shift. you know better. mark likes you like this: pliant, quiet, his. the thought sends a shiver down your spine, warmth pooling low in your stomach.

the door clicks open, and your breath catches.

there he is—hair tousled from the wind, cheeks pink from the high-altitude chill, his superhero suit clinging to his frame in that way that makes your mouth water. his eyes find you instantly, dark and hungry, and your pulse jumps under your skin. he’s looking at me. only me. the possessiveness in his gaze makes your chest tighten, your fingers twitching with the urge to reach for him. but you stay put. good pets wait.

"good boy," he murmurs, voice rough like he’s been flying for hours, and the praise sinks into your bones, liquid heat spreading through your veins. he’s happy with me. i did well.

you lean into his touch the second his palm meets your cheek, nuzzling against his skin like you could crawl inside it. his thumb brushes your bottom lip, calloused and firm, and you sigh, lips parting instinctively. "missed you," you whisper, the words trembling just slightly. it’s an understatement—you ached for him, counted the minutes, needed him like air.

"i know." his voice is soft, but there’s steel underneath, that quiet dominance that makes your stomach swoop. "did you behave while i was gone?"

you nod eagerly, desperate for him to see how good you were. "ate what you left out," you murmur, cheeks flushing at the memory of the carefully prepared meal he’d set on the counter before leaving. he takes such good care of me. "didn’t touch myself." your voice drops to a whimper—god, you’d wanted to, thighs squeezing together every time you thought of him, but you’d held back. you always hold back for him. "waited right here."

his fingers slide into your hair, gripping just enough to make your breath hitch, and you melt, eyelids fluttering. yes, yes, yes.

"perfect." he tugs, just a little, and you go willingly, head tipping back to bare your throat, your entire body singing under his control. his gaze rakes over you—your parted lips, your flushed skin, the way your chest rises and falls too fast—and his smirk is devastating. "you’re so good for me."

your vision blurs at the edges. he thinks i’m good. he’s proud of me. it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

(and if your hips jerk forward, just slightly, chasing friction—well. he’ll take care of that, too.)

you melt. god, you always do—your body going pliant and boneless under his praise, your thoughts dissolving into static as warmth floods your chest. it’s pathetic, maybe, how easily he unravels you, but you don’t care. you live for this, for the way his voice wraps around you like a collar, snug and inescapable.

he could ask for anything—your clothes, your voice, your orgasms—and you’d give it to him without hesitation. you’d strip bare in an instant if he told you to, would bite your tongue bloody if he ordered silence, would let him ruin you over and over again if that’s what he wanted. because he knows what’s best for you. the certainty of it coils tight in your gut, sweet and suffocating. because he takes care of you. his hands always know where to touch, his voice always knows what to say, his rules always keep you safe. because you’re his. and nothing has ever felt more right.

"c’mere," he murmurs, fingers tightening in your hair just enough to make you whine before he’s pulling you up. you go, stumbling into his chest like gravity itself bends for him, and his arms wrap around you—strong and secure, perfect. you press closer, nosing at his collarbone, breathing in the scent of wind and sweat and him. his lips brush your temple, featherlight, and your knees nearly give out all over again. "love you."

you bury your face in his neck, inhaling shakily, your fingers clutching at the back of his suit like he might vanish if you let go. "love you more," you mumble into his skin, the words muffled but fervent. you do. you love him more than air, more than sanity, more than your own pathetic freedom.

he laughs, low and fond, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours, and you know—no one will ever understand this. no one will ever get why you crave his control like a drug, why you thrive under his rules, why the weight of his ownership feels like coming home. they’d call it twisted, call you broken, but they’re wrong. you’ve never been more whole.

but you don’t need them to.

you just need him—his hands, his voice, his praise. you need the way he looks at you like you’re something precious, something his. you need the way he holds you like he’ll never let go.

(and he won’t. you’ll make sure of it.)

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

it hadn’t happened all at once—this thing between you, this belonging. you’d been best friends since childhood, mark’s laughter ringing in your ears for years before either of you realized how deep the roots had grown. but then he got his powers, and the world tried to pull him away, and you—you couldn’t stand the thought of being left behind. the first time you kissed him, it was desperate, clumsy, your hands fisting in his shirt like you could physically tether him to you. and mark, sweet, greedy mark, had kissed back like he’d been waiting for it. like he’d always known.

the shift from lovers to this—to fuzzy cuffs and control and the dizzying relief of surrender—was just as inevitable. you’d always trusted him more than anyone, had always followed his lead without question. so when he first pinned your wrists to the bed and growled “mine” into your skin, you didn’t hesitate. you arched into it, whined “yes, yes, yours,” like the words had been carved into your ribs all along. and when he started setting rules—eat this, wear that, don’t come unless i say—you obeyed like it was scripture. because it was. because mark knew you better than you knew yourself.

now, when people whisper about how he’s too possessive, too controlling, you just smile. they don’t understand. they don’t see the way he cherishes you, the way his hands cradle your jaw like you’re something sacred even as he orders you to your knees.

they’ll never understand—not the way your pulse steadies the moment his voice drops into that firm tone, not the way your muscles unlock when he takes the weight of choice from your shoulders. every command is a boundary, every rule a fortress, and inside them, you’ve never felt so safe. it’s not submission—it’s surrender, and it tastes sweeter than anything you’ve ever known.

he spoils you, though no one would believe it. they’d see the way he orders you to eat the last slice of pizza, to wear the softest sweater he bought you, to curl up in his lap when you’re tired—and they’d call it control. but you know better. you see the smirk he hides when you moan around a bite of dessert he "made" you take, feel the way his fingers linger on the fabric of the hoodie he "demanded" you put on, hear the quiet satisfaction in his voice when he murmurs "good boy" after you’ve done exactly what you both wanted.

you chose this. you begged for it—knees on the floor, hands shaking, voice breaking around the words "please, please, i need you to—" before he even let you finish. and when he finally said yes, when his palm cradled your cheek and his thumb wiped away your tears, you knew: this was where you were meant to be.

(and if anyone ever tries to take him from you? well. you may be his pet, but you’ve got teeth too.)

1.3k words full of omni-mark! finally! and honestly... something awakened in me while i was writing this-

[clairewritesfanfics]

Omni mark x wife reader Let's say the reader is exposed to rockiness by other women for being a wife and mother at a young age, and then he discovers this.

It stinks that a lot of women are shamed for whatever path they choose. A career woman? Cold-hearted bitch. Growing old alone with beloved pets? Spinster. Choosing to raise your family and staying with a man who loves you before you're thirty? Too traditional!

Women just can't win 😒

You say you're okay, and you are okay, because Mark is here and your baby has just arrived. But some of the older ladies are placing bets on when he's going to cheat while the younger girls are actively waiting for the divorce so they can shoot their shot.

Mark's going to be mad when he finds out, and this wife-obsessed Reader-sexual control freak will find out, he's going to put in extra effort to show everyone how much he treasures you.

Despite your protests, he's driving you everywhere and helping you with errands instead of getting some much needed sleep. He isn't big on PDA but now he has his arm around your waist every time you walk down the street.

(this is in a more civilized and normal au, if we're talking full on villain omni-mark, the reaction would be bloodier.)

[gatorbites-imagines]

tbh since viltrumite dna is so adaptive, I'd be more surprised if Omni-Mark didn't gain some softness, cause pregnancy weight like that is an evolutionary adaptation to aid in childcare + make birth easier (fat stores when the pregnant person is unable to keep food down due to morning sickness and stuff) idk. After so many kids I feel like his body would start to adapt overtime like he's fought a battle. Like? You get what I mean? Idk maybe I'm stupid lmao

Imagine if he kinda grows a pooch, you know like how cats have that pouch on their bellies for protection. I don't think Viltrumites as a culture see much meaning in pregnancies and birth, but why should the Marks follow viltrumite beliefs. I do imagine having all those kids is a bigger battle then some of the other fights the Marks have gone through. It would make sense for their bodies to adapt, cuz viltrumite DNA seems to adapt to everything, so why not this too? 

I see Omni-Mark and moustache Mark going kinda extra crazy for this though, cuz they're both really into the softness or just, being themselves and yours and not being anyone else's. They are also just both into it, so.  

This might also finally give Prisoner Mark some softness on his bones, cuz I feel he is the most unhealthy of the Marks. They are all built yes, but you can also be unhealthy muscular, if you guys know what I mean? 

[nastsand]

hii um yea im still alive,, am i too late to the invincible trend?? hope not... .. ,

[linkwho1]

I just thought of a good idea, alternate marks x reader fanfic but they’re inspired by Anakin and padme relationship.. I need that BAD ..

[jacksonseymour13]

Am I the only one that sees Retro Mark and No Goggles Mark as a potential duo with how similar they are? They could've been the show version of Long Haired Mark and Tracksuit Mark instead of Omni-Mark and Shiesty Mark.

[bigboy-lovers-unite]

YALL HELP

[ilikeotherthings]

this is sum shit 2 brothers would say

they're all so annoying <3 godbles

[blondedsixties06]

Like Him

[tlouglazer]

i’m gooning

[kitkeithkat]

What’s 17 more years…?

[clairewritesfanfics]

How would the mark variants treat a childhood friend turned girlfriend that became blind before childhood was over? Like how would mark treat his childhood love going blind, by adulthood shes totally blind, and how would his variants treat the same situation?

I can imagine the protectiveness going through the roof, and imagine the variants trying to hide how ugly the world outside is. I wonder which would even care that you are blind, try to help, and which would consider being blind perfect for their plaything. Harder to run away if you can't see.

There is an argument to be made that those who are born blind have it easier than those who go blind. People who were born with imperfect sight have not seen how light disperses between the ocean waves, and so they don’t fear losing that small happiness. 

God can be cruel. 

He had given you eyes that saw how the sun refracts through the tide, the way fireworks light up an evening sky and bring joy to everyone who witnessed their fleeting existence. God gave you Mark Grayson, with his toothy grin and honey eyes that sucked you right in. Now you may never see those things again.

Retinitis Pigmentosa. Genetic. Non-fatal, but incurable. Most people don’t completely lose their vision, but there the chances of total blindness is non-zero. 

The ride home from the hospital was unbearable. Your dad cracked a few lame dad jokes every now and then, but you saw how his finger tapped the steering wheel every time he stopped the car for a red light. Your mom looked like she was going to break down at any moment. But she stayed quiet, tense, but quiet and unable to look at you. The air was awkward and the tension gnawed at your nerves. No one cried. 

As soon as the car reached the garage, you made a hasty exit, spouting something about meeting with Mark for a special movie premiere, then ran straight for the Graysons’ home. 

Lucky for you, your friend answered the door. You didn’t have to worry about breaking down in front of an adult.

“Wanna go to the park?” You tried to play it cool.

Mark cocked an eyebrow at you. It was already sunset. But he knew you long enough to notice your stiff shoulders, that expression in your face that looked like one wrong word would make you fall to your knees, sobbing.

So he kept the questions to himself, stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Now here you two were. Two kids in a mostly empty playground meant for much younger children. At least the swingset chairs were big enough for you. 

“So…” Mark started after ten minutes of silence, “any special news you wanna tell me or did you just really miss the park?”

You stared at the overgrown grass, the tall trees Mark loved to climb, the colorful picnic tables lined next to each other. Without turning to him, you finally spoke, “We just got back from the doctor.”

Mark stomped the heels of his yellow sneakers to stop the momentum of his swing. His eyes were wide. “You’re not–”

“I’m not dying,” you cut him off. “But I am sick.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I won’t be able to see much at night, my vision won’t be… it will take a lot of effort to adapt to what I have right now. Oh, and cherry on the sundae? I could go blind, like actually blind.” You bent your elbows on your knees. “Doctor said it’s going to be slow, which I don’t know how to feel about.”

Mark was silent, trying to think. It was hard to understand for someone so young. Kids and teenagers are prone to feeling immortal, untouchable, and they can’t wrap their heads around the concept of disease, especially when it’s not affecting them directly.

But then you hid your face in your hands. Your entire body shook with each sob as he heard you cry out to a God who failed you. 

And Mark understood. 

His fingers gripped tightly around the metal chains of the swing. He didn’t know how to comfort you right now. Should he hug you? Pat your back?

But he couldn’t bring himself to do those things. Not now. 

Instead he made a promise. 

“Y-you said it won’t be an instant thing, right?”

Vaguely, he saw you nod your head.

“That’s great then! W-we can make as many memories as we can before the worst case happens.”

You wiped your tears and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Make a list of all the things you want to see and experience, that way we can see all of them before… before you know.”

You gave him a small smile and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

He was taught that humans are weaker than his kind, but it was only after hearing about your disease did he understand. You’re weak. Delicate. Vulnerable. Getting his powers certainly didn’t help. You are too delicate. You can’t be left alone for too long. When he has a job that requires leaving for a planet that is lightyears away he takes you with him. But if it’s safer to keep you inside your home then there will be soldiers guarding every corner and servants answering your every beck and call. He doesn’t trust others to look after you, but he trusts your human body even less, it has already failed you. 

VILTRUMITE, flaxan, target

This is perfect! This way you’re all his. Sure, he feels bad that you lost something precious, but that’s why he is here–to fill the void. Mark makes you depend on him, makes it so that you cannot live in a world where he is not by your side. He scares away all your friends, isolates you from your family, convinces you that they’re tired of you, that you are too much work. But he’s here, he will protect you, provide for you, and keep you happy. And you are happy, or at the very least, satisfied. So you don’t ask him about what’s happening outside the home he built just for you. You pretend that you don’t notice how your devices cannot access the news anymore, or call anyone who wasn’t Mark. You no longer pester him for the cure that he promised you years ago. He is your everything now. 

full mask, maskless, SINISTER, no goggles, prisoner

He is understanding and kind, but he doesn’t treat you like you’re broken. He makes occasional blind jokes because he knows you can take it, that laughing at yourself and your situation helps. He is perfect. Too perfect for a Mark. Truth is that he is scared shitless of everything. One false move and he can lose you forever, not just to some idiot rebel or monster of the week, but to something as stupid as a wet floor. He’s not just concerned about your physical health but also your mental wellbeing. So he hires actors and builds a paradise on a different planet, an illusion of what you thought Earth is like, what Earth used to be. He doesn’t need shapeshifters, only aliens who speak human language and human slaves who want to be free from hard labor. 

head cap, MOHAWK, shiesty, OMNI

image lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

[gatorbites-imagines]

Sinister Mark and Mohawk Mark would definitely be the ones to catcall the reader in the house the most and are the most likely to tag-team.

Second place goes to Omni Mark and Viltrum Mark (or Sheisty Mark, I imagine Omni Mark isn't picky about his threesome partner)

Honestly, I think sinister and mohawk tag team only to try and one up each other. They give the vibe of two territorial dogs who snarl and snap at each other, frothing at the mouth and barring teeth and all.  

Since they can't both be on readers dick at the same time, at least with their hole (which hole depends on what anatomy they got,,, or if it's the pregvincible au,,,), so I imagine they almost “fight” on the readers dick with their mouths. They are biting each other's tongues and all, until reader snaps at them and tells them to quit, before they accidentally bite his very human dick off. 

Probably ends up with one of them riding readers face and the other rides his dick, just so they both have something inside them that's equally good. Reader is gonna be sore and out of breath, limp on the bed as mohawk and sinister keep fighting on the floor. At least the view is good... 

Omni-mark and viltrum Mark are more stoic and just... quiet and thinking, planning. As much as viltrum mark loves his cock tortured, he loves doing it to reader as well. Reader starts sweating when he catches the two of them looking at him, more quiet than usual with thoughtful expressions on their faces. 

They both want to drain reader down their throats, and of course they both want a load to swallow of equal size and yes, they are stroking and milking until they get the same amount. Then they each want to ride the reader, with equal loads pumped inside them too. You have no idea how they check, cuz at this point reader would be seeing double. 

One of them rides you as the other laps at the readers balls, or bites and licks at the readers neck and chest. If they're feeling extra frisky, theyll ride your face as well. Even better if they are just having a conversation as well as they squeeze reader completely dry. 

[spurionage]

defeat my 5 evil alternate marks (with mild headcanons)

[asaarii]

ft: mainstream!mark and variants (mohawk, viltrum, omni, sheisty, sinister) (invincible) reader: fem wc: 2604 summary: hey siri is it gay to want to crack the female version of my dead best friend? cw: canon typical violence, foul language, and the variants are kinda sorta freaky in this requested by: @sophsthebest

this was so fun to write lowk and I would've been done faster if not for the blood moon event in dbd so err yeah I'm going to go die in a hole now

Life is strange, really. 

One moment, you’re helping refold shirts because some people don’t even have the decency to put stuff back to where they found it, and the next, an international warning tells you to stay inside because there are evil variants of your boyfriend now roaming the Earth with unclear intentions.

You share a look with your coworker, who looks just as off-put by the information, her fingers curling around her phone as her brow dips. Just as her lips part to speak, the first building falls. It’s only a few blocks away, and the ground beneath your feet trembles at its sudden collapse.

You hear the screams of those out on the street, internally debating whether or not to follow suit until a notification from Mark lights up your screen, the ridiculous nickname you’d set when you were twelve a small comfort to your racing heart.

MarkyWarky: please tell me you’re okay

You: i’m fine

You: i’m just scared mark 

You: why are there so many versions of you anyway…

MarkyWarky: i wish i could tell you

MarkyWarky: just stay put alright im otw

The message does little to soothe, and you can’t help but stare at your screen with nothing but apprehension. Your coworker is quick to seize you by the arm when the sound of collapsing buildings and wailing cars draws closer, ushering you into the break room with the floor manager as though the small, unwindowed room would protect you from the raw strength of a Viltrumite.

“Holy shit, we’re gonna die…We’re actually going to die…” The floor manager, Kasandra, curls into herself with tears already welled in her eyes as she chokes back a sob. No one says anything, unable to face the grim reality at steak when debris begins to crumble around you. You all huddle into the furthest corner as your hope in Mark begins to wane.

Small pieces of rubble hit your head as you tuck your head tightly into Kasandra’s shaking shoulder, the lights overhead flickering violently when the ceiling begins to cave in on itself. There’s no use holding back the tears now and you can’t hide your anguished cries, unheard over the collapsing infrastructure.

This is it, you think, mentally saying your goodbyes to everyone you’ve grown to love. Amber. Eve. William. Mark—oh, Mark. The annoying boy next door who grew to be your first love. 

Sparks flare as the light above you finally collapses, but you don’t feel a throbbing pain in your head or death’s cold embrace, instead, you find yourself wrapped in a familiar pair of arms, still clinging to an almost catatonic Kasandra while your coworker grips the forearm wrapped around the three of you.

“I’ve got you,” a voice in your ear says, and you can feel the tears begin to well once more, though, this time out of relief. Mark is quick to shoot from the rubble, hold unwavering before he sets the three of you down and urges you to run to safety.

Your two coworkers are quick to flee, but you stupidly linger, worry etched onto your features at the sight of Mark’s beaten face and tattered suit. In the distance, you can see Eve facing valiantly against a variant, the odd cloth mask adorned on his face his most defining trait. She pants, her palms facing outward to just barely raise a shield against his erratic punches.

Mark pulls your attention back to him, face pinched as his thumb traces your lower lip in an attempt to ground both you and himself. His lips are soft against your forehead for a brief moment before he pulls back, staring at you through his cracked goggles with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

“I love you,” you whisper, stroking his bruised cheek softly.

“I love you too. But, you need to go. Now. I’ll check on you soon, promise.”

So, you run as fast as your legs can carry you, doing your best to ignore the ruins and corpses that seem to block every turn.

You don’t get far.

A shadow overhead blocks the sun—its presence so oppressive and commandeering that it freezes you in place.

“Another survivor?” 

You can’t bring yourself to turn despite the way your heart lurches at the familiarity of the voice. Your breath hitches when the shadow lowers—whatever twisted version of Mark this is drawing ever closer like a lion to its prey.

“I thought those other two were the last of them, but what’s one more?” The voice is cold, almost clinical, very unlike the warmth that radiated off of your Mark. A glove is quick to find purchase on your throat, and you glance down to see the red rubber shining beneath the sun.

Blood coats the hand, tinting the glove an even darker shade of red than what you’d first surmised. You try not to think about the warmth of it as his grip grows tighter, making it harder to breathe, but not enough to kill, like he’s messing with you in some cruel, twisted way.

“You’re this dimension’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” His lips press against the shell of your ear, jerking your body to face the fight between Mark and the clothed one from before alongside Eve, who reaches out to you weakly before eventually crashing against the side of one of the buildings. Your Mark wheezes, clutching at his chest when the cloth-masked variant throws him into a nearby building by the hair. “Pathetic.”

The sound barrier tears as another Mark enters the fray, his mohawk wild and unkempt in the wind as he grins at the sight of battle, though there’s no amusement behind his smile. “Who the hell do you think you are running off like that?” For a moment, his wild eyes slip to where you and your captor reside, a flicker of…something flashing through his before it fizzles away. “Keeping hostages alive? Didn’t peg you for the cruel type.”

You barely register the click of the Invincible’s tongue over the roaring beat of your heart, his thumb remaining stationary over your pulse point; a warning. He could snap your neck at any given moment, and you don’t know what’s stopping him, but you’re grateful for whatever’s causing him to hesitate.

“Come on, just put her out of her misery already,” the mohawked Mark goads with a small shrug as he pulls his fist back to punch your Mark into the concrete when the cloth-masked variant throws him in his direction. Cracks split beneath your feet at the sheer force, the ground almost giving way, but all you can do is watch as your Mark slowly gets up from the crater his body had formed. 

He locks eyes with you, something snapping inside of him at the sight of the variant clad in a suit nearly identical to Omni-Man’s wrapping his hand around your throat.

“[Name]!” He calls out, bursting free from the grasp of the two other Marks with a renewed sense of vigor. 

Time seems to freeze the moment your name leaves his bloodied lips, the Mark holding you hostage too stunned to react when your Mark’s fist collides with his jaw hard enough to send him three blocks away. It isn’t long until you’re swept into Mark’s arms, the hold both protective and possessive as he glares at the other two, his chest heaving with each labored breath he struggles to take.

“No fuckin’ way.” The mohawked variant blinks slowly, his lips pulling into a mix of a grimace and a smirk. “That’s unfair on so many levels.” He turns to the Mark in a cloth mask who seems to share the same sentiment, mumbling under his breath about how unfair it is that this version of him gets the hot babe.

Omni-Man Mark merely scoffs when he floats back, his suit still pristine as though he’d never been thrown at all while he crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing the way you tremble in this version of him’s hold. You aren’t the best friend he’d killed mercilessly back in his dimension. Here, you were a woman—his woman. And he’d be damned if he couldn’t kill two birds with one stone.

A best friend and a wife. Who would’ve thought?

While he’d never seen the other, male, version of you in a romantic light, his heart stirs at the thought of taking this version of you for himself. It’s not like it’ll take much to kill this Mark; he’s already as good as dead anyway—

“Is everything alright here?” Clad in white and silver, yet another version of Mark descends from the sky like some sort of disgraced angel. 

“Ugh, why are you here?” Mohawk Mark rolls his eyes obnoxiously, his gaze only briefly flickering to the new variant.

“Angstrom sent me to see if you all were sticking to the plan, which clearly you aren’t.”

“Aww, the lil’Viltrum baby can’t do anything without a mission? How sad!” He bats his lashes dramatically before sneering. “What are you gonna do next, bark? Who gives a shit about the plan? You’re acting as if you weren’t gonna kill him after anyway!” 

The Mark in the Viltrum uniform chooses not to dignify him with a response.

Unbothered by his counterpart’s nonchalance, the mohawked Mark sets his sights back on you, spreading his arms wide as if to welcome you in with a hug. “Hey, [Name], it’s just me. Just Mark. Your best friend, remember? We used to play CoD and shit when your parents were out.”

Viltrum Mark’s brows furrow at the familiar name, steady gaze finally paying you mind as you try to sink further into the Mark of this dimension’s arms. You’re a lot…softer than he recalls you being, your form far less filled out; almost feminine. But, that couldn’t be right, right? How cruel would it be for this version of him to have the perfect mate whilst he, while grateful for your prior companionship, was stuck with nothing more than a best friend? One that he’d ultimately killed for resisting.

Surely, his brain is playing tricks on him.

Then he hears it—they all hear it.

The small terrified whimper you let out, the sound almost heavenly as you try to curl into Mark like your life depends on it. Which you suppose it does at this very moment.

A collective groan settles across all the present variations of Mark, all differing levels of arousal. They can practically taste the fear emanating off of you, stalking closer like a pack of deranged wolves.

Disgust pulls at Mark’s lips at the look in their eyes, his arms trembling around you as the last line of defense between you and these monstrous versions of him. “What the hell are you guys on about?” He seethes, only to be met by a suffocating silence.

Viltrum Mark appears in front of you before you and Mark can process his presence, tearing you out of your boyfriend’s arms despite your screaming protests. His grip is firm, but it’s the underlying softness in it that has you trembling with both fear and confusion. One of his hands finds your chin, stroking the contour of your jaw while his thumb gently presses down on your lower lip in a similar fashion that your Mark had done earlier.

“You’re [Name].” His face twists with perplexion as he speaks. “But, you’re so soft.” You feel his other hand fall from your arm, settling on your hip as if to prove a point. He squeezes and prods the fat, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the soft skin underneath, his fingers splaying against your stomach while his nose buries itself in your neck. “You’d be a great mother.”

No.

No.

No.

This can’t be happening—

You’re pulled into another set of arms. These ones leaner yet more possessive than the Viltrum Mark’s. But not yours.

“Jesus what the fuck is wrong with you.” Mohawk Mark’s voice rasps mockingly above you, his arm curling around you and dangerously close to your breasts. You know he feels your heart stop, snorting cruelly as he pulls you flush against him. His gloved hand tilts your chin up to him cruelly, relishing in the way tears well in your eyes.

“P-Please…” You weakly claw at his wrist despite knowing how useless it is in comparison to his innate strength.

Holy fuck, he could get used to the sound of that.

Man, why couldn’t you be a girl in his world too? Oh, the things he would do to you. How he would ruin you. He wonders if you’re similar to his [Name], the [Name] who trusted him to do the right thing only to die trying to stop what’s already been done. Do you play the same sport as your male counterpart? Enjoy the same food? Ah, whatever, you’re still his, no matter his relation to you. Best friend or otherwise.

“Get away from her you fucking freak!” Your Mark’s garbled voice reaches your ears, his fist colliding with the side of the mohawked variant’s head, sending him careening into the white-clad Viltrumite. Mark doesn’t even get the chance to look over you before he shoots into the air with you in his hold, tucking your head into his shoulder as he whispers calming words into the crown of your head. “I’ve got you, baby,” he echoes his prior sentiment, flying as fast as he can with the cloth-mask and Omni-Man wannabe hot on his tail.

A familiar red glove catches Mark’s leg, snapping it easily. Mark screams, his teeth grinding as he pivots his other leg directly into the variant’s face, no doubt breaking his nose before he crashes into the cloth-masked Mark, who yells obscenities as the two of them crash into the city below.

Finally, silence settles between the two of you. Heavy with confusion. Heavy with fear.

“What the hell was that…” You cling to him, trembling like a newborn fawn in his hold.

“I—I don’t know.” He buries his nose in your neck as he lowers into a desolate field miles away from any civilization, breathing in your comforting scent beneath the smell of iron and ash that seem to cling to your skin while he settles against a tree. The field is peaceful; untouched by the destruction that plagues the rest of the world.

“...What about Eve and the others?” You hesitate, palms hovering over his broken leg to do your best to put the limb back together. The bone melds back together grotesquely, it's disgusting snap a sound you think you’ll never get used to.

“Eve slipped away before things got ugly. I’m not too sure about the others…” He lets out a low hiss, his fingers digging into the ground when his skin gets pulled tautly back into place. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I won’t let them get to you, not as long as I’m still breathing, alright?”

“Okay,” you breathe out, collapsing into his chest as you try not to think about everything you’ve lost in such a short amount of time. He kisses your forehead gently, leaning back against the tree for only a moment of respite.

“Aww, what a cute sight.” A patronizing voice overhead has both of you snapping your heads to the sound. Clad in yellow and black with a billowing cape behind him, this version of Mark sneers, his gaze looking between you and Mark. His brows raise beneath his mask, lips forming something akin to a sadistic grin. “Well, well, well. You’re looking a bit different here, aren’t you, [Name]?”

Shit.

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