Everyday i just find more ways to get hurt when i stop certain things, not cutting myself? Burn myself with a cigarette. Not starving? Over eating and throwing up. Not sleeping? Staying up until my body can't handle standing up anymore. Not hurting myself at all? Wanting others to do it. Im never going to get better
Derek Goffard comes home after a long, stressful day and is too tired to abuse you too severely, so he just ***** off on ur face instead. <3 :D
beep boop auto-transcript:
[How was your day Derek?]
Aw, gee, thanks for asking. It was shit, just like every single other fuckin' day!
You have no idea how stressful it is to be part - Nevermind, why am I telling you this shit?
I'm frustrated. So you know what that means, right? That means I get to take out my aggression on my property. That's you sweetie.
[W-what are going to do?]
What am I gonna do? I'll tell you what I'm gonna fucking do I'm gonna take some pliers and… or maybe I could just…you know what? I'm too tired to do much of anything.
Honestly, I just feel like jerking off and going to sleep, so why don't you get down on your knees and open your fucking mouth?
Good.
I didn't say that you could touch my dick or suck it.
Fucking dumb slut like you would like that too much.
I Said Open your mouth, and that's it.
Your job right now is to look up at me with your mouth open catch my semen when I come and look pretty, that's all! Understand?
Yeah, you had better. Fucking dumb bitch.
Uh… Hmm…
Yeah, you like that, bitch. Just my fucking property to jerk off on whenever I feel like it. Can't do shit.
Oh
(groaning)
(breathing)
Roll your eyes to the back of your head Like I'm strangling you and you're about to pass out…yeah like that…
Fuck…
Yeah, keep doing it,
Okay, stop now, look at me, look directly at me, yeah.
Press your tits together.
Yeah, fucking stupid slut.
Ah, fuck, I'm gonna…
You had better catch it. Better catch it in your mouth…
(groaning)
Lick it off the floor, you fucking stupid bitch, I shouldn't have to tell you that!
But Uh, yeah, you did a good job or whatever the fuck.
The air was thick with smoke, the distant echoes of sirens wailing in the chaos. You had just stepped out of your car, the dull hum of anxiety settling in your chest as you prepared to visit your ex in prison—when everything went to hell.
A deafening crash shook the ground beneath you. You gasped, spinning around just in time to see the prison’s walls erupt in a brutal explosion of concrete and bodies. Screams filled the air, but your legs wouldn’t move. A figure hovered in the smoke and dust, dressed in a blue and black suit, the fabric stained with fresh blood. He wasn’t wearing a mask, and you could see the sharpness of his features—dark circles under his eyes, a smirk curving his lips. His hair was styled into a messy Mohawk, and his gaze locked onto you with unnerving familiarity.
“Oh, oh, oh!! You’re here.”
In an instant, he was right in front of you, his presence swallowing the space between you. One hand pressed against the car beside your head, his body leaning in close. His smirk deepened as he scanned your face, like he was drinking in every detail.
“You have no idea how long I’ve missed you.”
Your heart pounded against your ribs. His voice was warm, teasing, as if he were greeting an old lover—but you didn’t recognize him.
“I—I think you have the wrong person,” you stammered, pressing yourself back against the car.
He chuckled. “Oh, babe. Don’t play coy. I know every inch of you.” His fingers traced down your arm, slow and deliberate. “And trust me—I can’t wait to be inside you again.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “What?”
The confusion must have been plain on your face because his smirk faltered. He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle with missing pieces. Then, a quiet, knowing tsk left his lips.
“You don’t know me,” he muttered, his amusement dimming just slightly. “Wow. This universe’s me is lamer than I thought.”
Your stomach twisted at his words. This universe’s him? He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Guess I gotta woo you all over again.” Then, that smirk returned—sharp, playful, and terrifying all at once. “What do you say, babe?”
“Uh— I, um—”
“Left you speechless.” He grinned. “Come on, why don’t we get to know each other again?”
Before you could even think of running, he scooped you up with effortless strength. A scream tore from your throat as the ground disappeared beneath you. The wind roared in your ears, and the world became a blur of destruction below.
Instinct took over—you clung to him, pressing yourself against his chest, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like blood and smoke. His arms wrapped around you, securing you against him like you belonged there. “Now that’s more like it,” he murmured, voice laced with satisfaction. “See? Feels just like old times.”
Your breath came in short, panicked gasps as you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing yourself tighter against him. The wind whipped around you, your stomach twisting violently with every sudden shift in the air.
“Please don’t hurt me,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.
He let out a soft shhh, the sound almost tender. “Babe,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear, “I wouldn’t hurt you… at least, not in a way you wouldn’t enjoy.”
Then, he laughed—a low, wicked sound that sent a chill down your spine.
You shuddered, gripping onto him for dear life. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to push away, but what good would it do? You were helpless in his arms, held against a man who claimed to know you, to have had you before. A man who wasn’t from here.
“See? You fit so perfectly against me,” he mused, tightening his grip just enough to make you aware of the strength behind it. “It’s like your body remembers me, even if your little mind doesn’t.”
Your nails dug into his suit as you whimpered. “I don’t know you.”
He sighed, almost disappointed. “Yeah, yeah, I got that the first time, sweetheart. But don’t worry.” He tilted his head, pressing his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply. “We’ll fix that soon enough.”
A sob caught in your throat. “Please—just let me go.”
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression unreadable. Then, he smiled. “Let you go?” His grip loosened slightly—just enough to make your stomach drop in terror as the sensation of falling gripped you.
You screamed, clutching onto him harder, and he burst into laughter. “Oh, babe, you really don’t want that.”
He held you securely again, his smirk practically splitting his face. “See? You want to be in my arms. You need me.” His fingers trailed up your back, slow and deliberate. “Now, let’s go somewhere private. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
With that, he shot forward through the sky, carrying you away into the unknown.
The wind howled around you as he carried you higher, the world below shrinking into a mess of fire, wreckage, and screams. You had no idea where he was taking you, but the way he held you—like you were something precious to him—only made your fear grow.
Your hands trembled against his suit, nails digging into the fabric as you tried to keep yourself steady. “Please,” you whispered again, desperate, voice breaking. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not her.”
He hummed, almost thoughtful, before grinning down at you. “You are her, babe. Just… not quite yet.” His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch unsettlingly gentle for someone who had just slaughtered hundreds without a second thought. “But don’t worry, I’m nothing if not patient.”
The smirk on his lips told you he was lying.
Your heart pounded as you turned your head, trying to see where he was taking you. The city blurred past, the familiar skyline growing more distant. “Where—where are we going?”
“Somewhere we won’t be interrupted,” he said simply, adjusting his grip as if you weighed nothing.
The way he spoke, so casual, so comfortable, sent a new wave of panic through you. He was acting like this was normal, like he had done this before. And maybe, in his world, he had.
Your mind raced. Maybe if you kept talking, if you kept him engaged, you could figure out a way to survive this.
“Why—” you swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, “why do you want me?”
His expression softened in a way that made your stomach churn. “Because you’re mine.”
The words were simple. Final. Like an undeniable truth.
You shook your head, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t belong to you.”
His smirk widened. “You will.”
You barely had time to process the words before he suddenly dropped, diving downward so fast your stomach lurched into your throat. You screamed, clinging to him as tightly as you could, your body trembling with sheer terror.
He only laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction.
Then, as suddenly as he had dropped, he slowed, coming to a steady stop just above the ground. You gasped, heart hammering against your ribs as you dared to open your eyes.
You were in the middle of nowhere—some kind of abandoned industrial site, the buildings crumbling with age and neglect. It was isolated. Empty.
Trapped.
He landed with ease, his boots crunching against the gravel as he finally released you. Your legs nearly gave out beneath you, and you stumbled back, pressing yourself against the nearest wall in a desperate attempt to put distance between you.
He only watched, amused. “Oh, babe,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Running won’t do you any good.”
You swallowed hard, hands pressing against the cold brick behind you. “Why are you doing this?”
His smirk faltered just slightly. “Because I love you.”
Your breath hitched. The words sent a shiver down your spine—not because they felt genuine, but because they felt wrong. Twisted.
“You don’t love me,” you whispered, shaking your head.
His jaw tensed for the briefest moment before his smirk returned, but this time, there was something darker behind it. “Guess I’ll just have to make you believe it.”
Before you could react, he was in front of you again, caging you in with his arms, his presence suffocating.
“Now,” he murmured, his voice low, dangerous, “why don’t we start properly getting reacquainted?”
Your hands pressed against his chest, trying to create space, but he didn’t budge. His body was solid, unmoving, his warmth seeping through the fabric of his suit. His presence was overwhelming, swallowing up every inch of your personal space until all you could feel was him.
“Um—” your voice wavered, your mind scrambling for something, anything to slow him down. “If we’re going to do this—what I think you’re implying—” you swallowed hard, “can’t you at least tell me your name?”
His smirk widened, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Mark.”
The name sent a jolt through you. It was familiar—of course, it was. Mark Grayson. Invincible. But this Mark… he was wrong. Corrupted. You knew Mark, you went to high school with him years ago.
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “Try to remember it when I have you screaming, yeah?”
Your breath hitched, your entire body going rigid. Every alarm in your brain screamed at you to run, but you were trapped between his arms, caged in against the cold brick wall.
Your fingers curled into fists against his chest, and you shoved—hard. It was like pushing against a wall of steel. He barely even swayed, but his smirk twitched in amusement.
“Oh?” he chuckled, tilting his head. “Still got some fight in you? Good.” His hands trailed down your sides, slow, teasing. “I always liked you better when you struggled first.”
A shudder ran through you, panic clawing up your throat. “Please,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady, “you don’t have to do this.” His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.
“Oh, but I do,” he murmured, tilting his head. “I lost you once already. Do you know what that did to me?” His fingers traced the line of your jaw, slow, almost reverent. “I won’t lose you again.”
Your heart pounded, fear and confusion twisting in your gut. You had to think—fast. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your hands still trembling against his chest. “Then—then prove it.”
His brows raised, intrigued. “Oh?” You swallowed hard. “If you really love me,” you whispered, forcing steel into your voice, “then prove it. Give me a choice.”
His expression flickered—just for a second, just enough doubt to crack through that arrogant smirk. A pause. A long, tense silence. Then, finally, he exhaled, stepping back just slightly—still close, still dangerous, but giving you that inch of space.
His smirk softened, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Fine,” he murmured. “I’ll play along.” But the way he looked at you, possessive and unwavering, told you one thing— He wasn’t letting you go.
The moment you felt his lips against your neck, a shiver ran through your entire body. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, his warmth swallowing you whole.
You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers twitching where they rested against his chest. He was so close—his suit-clad body pressed firmly against yours, his hands burning through the fabric of your clothes as he held you in place.
“See?” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing just below your jaw. “Feels familiar, doesn’t it?” Your breath hitched. “No—”
He chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound that made your stomach twist with fear. “Liar,” he teased, his teeth grazing your pulse. “Your body’s remembering me, babe. Even if your head’s still catching up.” You trembled, your hands pressing weakly against him. “Mark, please—”
He hummed, pleased by the way his name left your lips. “God, I missed hearing that,” he murmured, placing another slow, lingering kiss against your throat. “You used to say it so much more, though. Usually louder.”
Your face burned with a mix of fear and helplessness. His confidence was unshakable—he truly believed that you belonged to him, that this was just some twisted reunion rather than a nightmare.
“I—” Your voice wavered as you tried to think, to stall, to survive. “If—If I was really yours, then you’d wait.”
His movements stilled for a second. His breath was hot against your skin, his fingers twitching at your waist. You felt the tension ripple through him, a hesitation that you weren’t sure was a good sign or a very bad one. Then, slowly, he leaned back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk still in place—but there was something darker beneath it.
“You really like testing me, don’t you?” His tone was light, playful, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.
You swallowed hard. “I—I’m just saying, if you love me like you say you do… you wouldn’t force me into anything. You’d want me to want you back.”
For a long moment, he just looked at you, his eyes flickering with unreadable emotion. Then, to your surprise, he sighed—almost dramatically—before letting his grip on your waist loosen just slightly.
“Fine,” he muttered, tilting his head as he studied you. “I’ll wait.”
Relief flooded through you—but it was short-lived. His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous. “But don’t think for a second that means I’m letting you go.” His fingers brushed against your lips, lingering there as he murmured, “Because one way or another, babe… you’re gonna remember me.”
And something in his voice told you that no matter how much you fought, no matter how much you ran— He wouldn’t stop until he made that happen. “You should take me on a date first— yknow, get to know each other?” She suggested. “But I already know you.” he replied, crossing his arms, unconvinced.
“Look—“ she sighed, “ok, this is embarrassing but.. I’m a virgin.. and, um— I should lose it to someone I like, yknow?”
Mark blinked. Then, slowly, his smirk faded, replaced by something unreadable. His arms remained crossed, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to decide whether or not to believe you.
“A virgin?” he echoed, tilting his head slightly.
You swallowed hard, nodding. “Y-Yeah. And I just… I think I should lose it to someone I actually like, you know?”
Silence.
For the first time since this nightmare began, he looked genuinely thrown off. His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place—contemplation? Annoyance? Amusement?
Then, after a long pause, he laughed.
It wasn’t his usual, mocking chuckle. This was something deeper, more entertained. Like he had just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“Oh, babe,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re good. Really, you almost got me with that one.”
Your stomach dropped. “I—I’m serious.”
He smirked. “Nah. My girl? Virgin?” He scoffed. “Not a chance.”
You clenched your fists. “I am.”
He took a step closer, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “So what, you just forgot all the times I’ve had you screaming for me?”
Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your face. “I don’t remember, Mark,” you shot back, forcing steel into your voice. “That wasn’t me. It was her. Your version of me.”
His smirk twitched, his jaw tightening for just a second before he covered it with another cocky grin.
“Fine,” he said after a moment, tilting his head. “Let’s say I believe you.” He placed a finger under your chin, tilting your face up toward him. “That just means I get to be your first all over again.”
Your stomach twisted. “Mark—”
He exhaled dramatically, stepping back and running a hand through his messy Mohawk. “But, since you insist on playing hard to get, sure. We’ll do it your way.”
Your brows furrowed. “My way?”
His smirk widened. “You said you want a date, right?” He shrugged. “Fine. I’ll take you on a date.”
Your pulse quickened. You had only said that to stall, to buy yourself time—but now he was actually agreeing to it? “R-Really?” you asked hesitantly.
“Yeah.” His eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something possessive. “But just so you know, babe… I always get what I want in the end.” And the way he looked at you told you exactly what—or who—he meant.
Your breath caught in your throat as Mark’s smirk widened, his eyes locked onto you like a predator toying with its prey.
“A date,” he repeated, rolling the word around like it was something foreign to him. “Guess I can woo you a little before I take what’s mine.”
Your stomach twisted. He agreed too easily, like he knew the game was already rigged in his favor.
Still, this was something. A delay. A chance to think, to figure out what the hell to do.
You forced a small nod. “Right. So, um… where are we going?”
Mark hummed, rubbing his chin like he was deep in thought. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he grinned. “McDonald’s.”
You blinked. “What?”
He raised a brow. “What, you thought I’d take you somewhere fancy? Babe, you are lucky I’m even humoring this little game.”
Your lips parted, stunned into silence. Of all the things you expected— Mark laughed at your expression, clearly enjoying himself. “C’mon, babe,” he said, stepping closer again, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “Think of it as nostalgic. We used to go there all the time.” You stiffened. Not me. Her. But before you could argue, the world lurched.
A scream tore from your throat as Mark suddenly launched into the sky, holding you tightly against his chest. The wind roared in your ears, your stomach flipping violently as the ground became a distant blur. Mark just laughed. “Relax, babe,” he cooed. “I got you.”
You barely heard him over your own frantic heartbeat. Your fingers clutched at his suit on instinct, your body trembling from the rush of fear. When he finally slowed, hovering above the glowing skyline, your breath came in short, uneven gasps.
“See?” he murmured against your ear, voice smug. “You trust me already.”
You didn’t. You never would. But clinging to him was the only thing keeping you from plummeting to your death. Mark smirked down at you, clearly enjoying how tightly you held onto him. “Alright, babe. Let’s get this date over with.” And before you could respond, he shot forward—taking you toward the most surreal, nightmare-fueled McDonald’s trip of your life.
The world blurred around you as Mark rocketed toward the city, his grip on you firm, unwavering. The sheer speed made your stomach lurch, but all you could do was cling to him, your heart hammering in your chest.
Then, just as suddenly as he had taken off, he came to an abrupt stop, hovering above the glowing golden arches of a McDonald’s.
You barely had a second to process where you were before he dropped, landing effortlessly in the parking lot. The impact cracked the pavement beneath his feet, but Mark didn’t seem to care.
“Alright, babe,” he said, setting you down but keeping his arm locked around your waist. “Here we are. Fancy enough for you?”
You wobbled, legs still unsteady from the flight, and had to grab onto his arm to keep from falling. “You really brought me to a McDonald’s?”
Mark grinned. “What? You want a steakhouse? Maybe a candlelit dinner?” He snorted. “Be real. You love this place.”
Your stomach twisted. She did.
Before you could argue, he was already pulling you toward the entrance, completely unbothered by the massive cracks he had left in the pavement. People inside turned to stare the moment he stepped through the door, conversations dying mid-sentence. It wasn’t every day a super-powered war criminal in a tattered blue-and-black suit strolled into a fast-food restaurant like he owned the place.
The cashier, a teenager who looked like he really didn’t get paid enough for this, blinked rapidly as Mark sauntered up to the counter.
“Uh—W-Welcome to McDonald’s—”
Mark grinned, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Two cheeseburger meals. Large. Extra fries.”
You flinched at the sudden movement, your body tensed like a tightly wound spring. The cashier gulped, his eyes darting between Mark’s very recognizable face and your visibly shaken expression. Mark sighed, tilting his head. “Dude. I just ordered.”
The cashier swallowed thickly. “R-Right! Coming right up!” As the poor kid scrambled to punch in the order, you turned your gaze up to Mark, your throat dry. “So… this is a date, huh?”
Mark smirked down at you, tightening his arm around your waist. “Yeah. Romantic, right?”
You forced a stiff smile. “Oh, totally. Nothing screams romance like fear-induced fast food.”
He chuckled, clearly amused. “See? You do remember how much fun we have together.”
Your fingers twitched at your sides. This isn’t fun. This is survival. You had to think—fast. If he was actually playing along with this “date” idea, then maybe, maybe you had a chance to gain some control. For now, though, you had no choice but to sit through the most horrifying McDonald’s dinner of your life.
Once the food was ready, Mark grabbed the paper bag in one hand and, without a word, wrapped his other arm around your waist.
“Wait—” you started, but the world lurched before you could finish.
Your stomach flipped as he shot into the sky, the wind whipping against your skin. The glowing city lights blurred beneath you, fading into darkness as he carried you further and further away.
When he finally slowed, you dared to crack your eyes open. The city was nothing more than a distant sparkle now, far below the towering cliffs where he landed. A single bench sat near the edge, worn but sturdy, overlooking the vast, open night. The air was crisp, quiet—eerily peaceful, considering the absolute insanity of your current situation.
Mark set you down gently, but before you could pull away, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the bench. “C’mon, babe,” he said, plopping down and patting the seat beside him. “Date’s not over yet.”
Your legs wobbled from the sudden flight, but you hesitated. Running wasn’t an option—not unless you wanted to see how good you were at surviving a several-hundred-foot drop.
So, slowly, you sat down, keeping as much distance between you as the bench allowed. Mark didn’t seem to care. He opened the McDonald’s bag, pulling out the food and handing you one of the wrapped burgers.
You stared at it. Eat. Keep him entertained. Keep him calm. With a shaky breath, you unwrapped the burger and took a small bite. Mark watched you, smirking as he casually bit into his own food. “See?” he said, talking with his mouth full. “Told you I’d treat you right.”
You forced a tight-lipped smile, trying not to let your hands tremble. “Yeah. Real gentlemanly.”
He chuckled, leaning back against the bench. “You used to love this,” he mused, staring out at the skyline. “Late-night McDonald’s, just us, talking about dumb shit.” His smirk faded slightly, his fingers twitching against his knee. “Feels just like old times.”
You swallowed, your throat dry. But if he was reminiscing, maybe you could use that. Maybe if you kept him talking, kept him comfortable, you could figure out a way to get out of this. So you forced a small, hesitant smile. “Yeah? Then… tell me about it.” Mark raised a brow. “What?” You gestured vaguely. “The old times. Your version of me. What was she like?”
For a moment, he just looked at you. Then, his smirk softened—just a little. “Oh, babe,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You were everything.” And the way he said it, the weight behind those words, sent a shiver down your spine.
Mark leaned back against the bench, stretching his arms out along the backrest—casually, like this was just a normal conversation. Like you weren’t trapped on a secluded cliffside with a psychotic version of a hero you once trusted.
“You were everything,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost reverent. “Smart. Funny. You had this way of calling me out on my bullshit but still making me feel like the most important person in the world.”
He sighed, his smirk twitching at the edges. “We were good together. You used to hold my face like I was the only thing that mattered.” His gaze flicked toward you, sharp and expectant. “You loved me.” Your fingers tightened around the burger in your hands, the paper crinkling.
That wasn’t me.
But if you said that—if you shattered whatever illusion he was clinging to—who knew what he’d do? So you swallowed hard and kept your voice careful. “What… what happened to her?”
Mark went quiet. The easy smirk on his lips twitched, faltering for the first time. His fingers curled into fists against his knees.
Then, slowly, he exhaled through his nose. “I lost you.” Your breath hitched. His voice was different now—thicker, laced with something raw.
“You were the only thing keeping me sane,” he muttered, his jaw tightening. “When everything else was going to shit, I had you.” His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but was holding himself back. “And then one day… I didn’t.”
You swallowed, your heart pounding. “How?” His eyes darkened. “I killed you.” A chill ran down your spine.
Mark let out a bitter, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Wasn’t on purpose. I was fighting—him—” his lip curled in disgust, “—some dumbass hero. You got in the way.”
His fingers clenched. “I caught you too late. Held you while you…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening, his gaze flicking away.
Your heart ached—not for him, but for the woman he had lost. The version of you that had died in his arms. And suddenly, you understood. He wasn’t just obsessed with you. He was grieving you. Replacing her with you. Your stomach twisted, fear and unease tangling in your gut. Because if he had already lost you once— He wasn’t going to let it happen again.
The silence between you both stretched out as you finished the last of your food, the faint crinkle of the wrappers the only sound breaking the stillness. Mark didn’t seem to mind the quiet—he was lost in his thoughts, his eyes scanning the dark horizon with that faraway look again.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. The way he’d described losing you, how it affected him… it almost felt like you were being used as a replacement—as a way for him to keep the pieces of that version of you intact.
And while that made your stomach churn, it also made you feel like you were nothing to him. You were just a shadow of the woman he really wanted.
Finally, Mark broke the silence, his voice low and almost soft. “You ready to go?”
You nodded slowly, not trusting yourself to speak without betraying how rattled you were.
He didn’t give you much time to process before standing up and holding out a hand to you. “C’mon, babe. Let’s fly.”
His tone was deceptively casual, as if this was just a normal night, just a normal date, and not a terrifying, forced reunion.
Reluctantly, you took his hand, feeling the familiar electric pulse of his energy crackling in your palm. Without another word, he lifted you up with ease, and in an instant, you were soaring back into the night sky, the cliffside disappearing below you.
The wind rushed past you, and you pressed yourself closer to him instinctively, despite your fear. The ground became a blur beneath you, the only sensation being the firm grip Mark had on you, holding you as if you were his own once again.
As you flew, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything he’d said. His loss. His obsession. The twisted, unsettling way he saw you.
And deep down, you realized that, no matter how much you tried to fight it, this wasn’t just some date. This was a war—one that Mark had already lost, and now you were the one paying the price for his broken version of love.
“So can we fuck now?” He asked. You gasped at his bluntness, You felt his lips graze the side of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. A shiver ran down your spine, a mix of fear and something else that you couldn’t quite identify.
“Mark, seriously,” you gasped, trying to pull away slightly. You were already too close to him, your heart pounding as your mind scrambled to keep itself together. “We’re in the air. Are you out of your mind?”
He chuckled, the sound dark and smooth, like he was enjoying every second of this power dynamic. “The other you didn’t mind,” he repeated, his voice low and teasing. “In fact, you came up with the idea. You really were a little freak.”
Your face burned, both from his words and the realization that this was not the first time he’d tried to force you into this twisted game. The fact that he was so confident in his assumptions about you, about what you used to be, made your skin crawl.
“You’re insane,” you shot back, trying to sound defiant, but the vulnerability in your voice betrayed you.
Mark’s grip tightened around you, his presence overwhelming, and you knew there was no escaping it—not unless you wanted to be thrown into the night sky, left to fall. “Only for you, babe,” he whispered, his lips brushing your neck once more.
Your pulse raced at the contact. The sensation, the closeness, everything about it felt wrong—so wrong—but a part of you couldn’t help but react, your body betraying your mind’s desperate protests.
You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting to regain control of your thoughts. This is not me. This is not me. “Stop,” you said, your voice shaking. “I don’t know you. Not like this.”
Mark pulled back slightly, but his face was still inches from yours. His expression softened, though there was still something dangerous in his gaze, something possessive. “Don’t get all shy on me now,”
And before you could respond, he pulled you closer again, his lips crashing against yours with an intensity that took your breath away.
He ripped your shirt off and you gasped, covering your chest, “Mark! It’s cold!” You shiver, Mark groaned, clearly annoyed, but he stopped his advances. Instead, he adjusted his hold on you, pulling you tighter against his chest as you shivered.
“Fine,” he muttered. “You’re such a pain, babe.”
You turned your face away from him, arms still locked around his shoulders as the cold air bit at your skin. Your heart was still hammering, but at least he stopped. At least he listened.
You felt the shift in the air as he changed direction, flying lower, angling toward the city again.
“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice still trembling. Mark didn’t answer immediately. He just smirked, glancing down at you. “You’ll see.”
A pit formed in your stomach. When he finally slowed, you blinked in surprise. He’d brought you to the rooftop of a hotel. A fancy one—glowing windows, sleek design, the kind of place you could never afford. Mark landed on the balcony of one of the top-floor suites, pushing open the glass doors like he owned the place. And maybe he did—in the sense that nobody was going to stop him from doing whatever he wanted. He stepped inside, still holding you against him. The warmth of the room hit you instantly, and you exhaled, the shivers fading from your body.
“There,” Mark said smugly. “Better?” You hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Thanks.”
His smirk widened. “See? I can be nice.” You swallowed hard, taking in your surroundings. The hotel suite was luxurious—massive bed, fireplace crackling in the corner, dim lighting that made everything feel… intimate. Your pulse quickened again. Mark watched you carefully, his eyes dark, unreadable. “So,” he murmured, tilting his head. “No more excuses, right?”
Your breath caught. You were alone with him now. No freezing air, no excuses to stall. He stepped closer, fingers grazing your bare shoulder. “Say the word, babe.”
Mark’s fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch surprisingly light for someone so overwhelmingly strong. His eyes were locked onto yours, searching, waiting.
You swallowed hard. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to fight—but you knew better. You had seen the kind of destruction he was capable of. If you pushed him too far, if you made him feel denied, there was no telling what he’d do.
So you forced yourself to soften, just enough to make him believe you were hesitant—not rejecting him, just… nervous.
“Be gentle,” you whispered, barely audible. “Go slow.”
Mark’s expression shifted, his smirk easing into something more smug—satisfied, like he had won. Like you were finally giving in.
“I can do that,” he murmured, his lips barely an inch from yours. “I like hearing you ask for it.”
You forced yourself to stay still as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was softer than you expected—almost careful. But you could feel the restraint in him, the way his fingers twitched against your skin, like he was holding back something darker.
You let him kiss you. Didn’t fight when he unclasped your bra, tossing it aside, didn’t fight when he undressed you completely. You gave in, and he laid you down on the bed. You sat up a bit, “it’s not fair I’m the only one naked.” He blinked and in an instant he was naked as well, your jaw dropped seeing his cock. “How— that’s not gonna fit!”
“Flattered, but it will. It has before.” He kissed you again. He stuck two fingers in your warmth, and grinned, “wow, you’re so wet I don’t even need to do foreplay.” You felt your face heat up, “doesn’t mean I wont though,” he continued to pump his fingers in and out, watching as you squirmed. Your legs clenched on his hand, and you gripped at the sheets, turning away from him. “Uh-uh, look at me.” He forced you to look at him, and his other hand came to play with your clit, rubbing in circles.
You squirmed, moaning his name, panting as you felt yourself going to finish soon. He took notice, “you gonna cum baby? Make a big ‘ol mess?” He teases. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as you cum with a cry. He grins and pulls his hands away. “You did good, now you gotta handle me,” he smirked as he slowly sank inside you. Stopping when he notices your face twist in pain, he kisses you again, and pulls out, thrusting back in again. He looks down at where you two are connected, noticing the small amount of blood that now coated his cock. “Fuck— I guess you weren’t lying about being a virgin, lucky me.” He was slow, gentle as he promised. But he was also holding back, he waited until he heard you beg for more to continue. And when you did, he stopped holding back completely. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrusted into you, your stomach having a small bump from how deep he travelled inside you.
You screamed his name, the walls shaking from the mere force of his thrusts. At this point he will break the bed, you thought. Still, you didn’t want it to stop. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, and you could feel yourself going to cum again. “Cum.” At command you did, moaning desperately. “Mark— oh that feels good! Don’t stop!”
He smirked against your neck. “I don’t plan to.” He put you in every position you could imagine. Each one pulling orgasm after orgasm— your thighs were soaked in cum, and soon he grew desperate, the wall cracked as the headboard slammed into it. He thrusted as deep as he could and came, filling you to the brim. His breathing was shaky, and he flopped down beside you, pulling you to his chest. He laughed, panting, “I’ll be surprised if you can elk tomorrow,” you rolled your eyes, “oh shut up!” Slapping his chest.
(Invincible Variants x Reader) Of course he would come to see you. You’re the reason he’s here, after all.
After hearing the news to stay inside as the attack of Invincible copycats decimated cities across the globe, you hid under your blanket, the light from your phone illuminating your face as you watched the broadcast for any sign of your Mark.
You could only hope that he was alright, that he wasn’t blaming himself, that he knew you were waiting for him to come back safe. He already has enough problems as is.
Your distress is momentarily tempered when you hear your window slide open and your floorboards creek. When you don’t hear Mark immediately greet you or tease you for being bundled up, any concern you felt for Mark becomes overshadowed by fear for yourself as you hear footsteps near your prone form.
You can only tremble, clutching your blanket close to your body until the room goes silent. You shakily exhale, becoming confused when another quiet beat passes. When your breath returns to normal, the blanket is ripped off of you, eliciting a scared yelp.
For a moment you only stare in confusion at the sight of your boyfriend’s estranged father before realizing it’s not Nolan Grayson that stands before you, but Mark clad in a costume similar to his father’s. His face is impassive, mouth a firm line, so unlike the expressive nature of your Mark.
He calls your name. Quietly, yet there was something heavy in his tone. Something you could almost delude yourself into thinking was longing.
His hand brushes against your cheek, moving down your face before resting on your shoulder, a finger pressed against your pulse.
“You sound healthy,” he comments, deceptively neutral in his delivery, but even behind his goggles, you could feel his gaze burning into your face, “In my world, you had cancer. By the time the Viltrumites reinforcements had arrived, it was too late. All that talk about life changing technology and medicine, but it ended up being utterly useless to me.”
Your breath hitches, but he continues, “But here there’s a me that rebelled and an you that never got sick. That got to live past high school. That’s just the way it goes, I suppose.”
His hand travels lower, brushing past your collarbone before resting on your breast, your heart hammering beneath his palm.
“Do you know why I came here?” He wonders, his free hand planting itself on your bed, as he moves his body to hover above yours until the only thing you can see is him.
“No,” you whisper, staring into black lenses.
“Because even after all these years, the only heart I wish to know, to hold, and to cherish is yours. I was willing to play human for you, to tolerate the presence of the idiots that breathed the same air as us, but then they all had the audacity to outlive you. And I can’t move on. So the selfish man that I am, I’m here to take you. To have you by my side again, no matter how much blood I have to spill,” He declares before pressing his lips against yours, muffling your gasp and cries, gripping your wrist when you try to shove at him.
He only pulls away when you start to feel lighthearted, looking down at you as you struggle to catch your breath.
“You can cry and protest all you want. You loved me once, you can do it again,” he asserts, bring your wrist to his mouth, leaving a kiss against your pulse point. “This world was doomed the moment your Mark decided to rebel. I won’t let you die because of his delusions.”
“…I’m not her,” you speak up. “I don’t know you, not really.”
“I know,” he responds, “but every inch of my body is crying out to you, and I’d rather kill everyone on this planet before I let you go again.”
He releases your wrist, instead sliding both hands under your shirt, gloved hands savouring the feel of your skin, your warmth seeping through the fabric.
“…you’re shaking,” he notes, throwing a glance at your discarded blanket on the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll warm you up. I promise.”
“Mark,” you say, out of instinct more than anything else, your mind coming to a blank.
“Shh,” he hushes you, voice gentle but firm, “Let me take care of you. Like I always do.”
A part of you is relieved that he hasn’t taken off his cowl because you knew you’d crumble under the emotion that would undoubtedly be in his eyes. The same eyes that always held so much love and adoration towards you.
His lips press against yours again, more demanding and heated, as hands travel higher and higher until—
“Looks like I wasn’t the only one that thought to come here,” an amused but familiar voice drawls out, the Mark on top of you pulling away, body covering yours protectively.
Another Invincible sat at your window ledge, black and yellow costume starkly contrasting the rest of your room. He smiles at you when you peak around Mark’s arm.
“Honestly, you were acting so high and mighty earlier, but you’re pretty desperate, huh?” He mocks as the other Mark’s face becomes stonier. “But, really, you should fuck off somewhere else because that’s my girl you’re feeling up right now.”
Before he can respond, another voice interrupts him as you notice yet another Mark, floating behind the one at your window.
“Fucking seriously? How did you even get here before me? I bet you halfassed your locations,” The Mark with a mohawk that has you raising your eyebrow complains, “I literally called dibs on this one! Find someone else!”
Feeling the tension build up, you only hope that Mark checks in and saves you from the bullshit you’re witnessing as they begin to snarl and yap at each other like feral dogs.
Why me, you lament.
Shiesty Mark: hey, babe, it’s Big Dick Friday—why the fuck are you all here??
Why is there no Omni Mark content, he and that shiesty mark were my favourite…
I feel like omni mark is the definition of ‘quite literally hates everyone but you’
titsay
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dededos
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germansingergirl
izzy806
andulkaphoto
