imagine you transmigrate into the invincible verse and first thought is literally — fuck, i’m cooked. fast forward, you realise you possess a character that does not exist in the main timeline, you are an anomaly. the anomaly who suddenly disrupts the story and makes the actual main character, mark grayson, fall in love. how? because love at first sight or however the saying goes. the moment you’ve entered his life, he knew you were different. special.
you cherished him like no one else, you were great with all his friends as if you’ve known them for a long time, you have been different since the start. you were your own bubble of energy — always believing in him, always appreciating him when no one did. he feels so understood through you.
and after that, you might as well skip to the several variant arc because around that time, you noticed that this was your biggest mistake. you should’ve put your fingers out of the story. is this the so called butterfly effect?
“—and you are?” his stare burns through your skin, sweat slowly forming on your neck while swallowing down your biting remarks.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!” you could hear mark’s desperate, bloody scream from behind as he tried to fly towards you.
“w-well, i’m mark’s best friend.” you answered carefully, and took a step back as soon as the variant approached you.
“as far as I remember, I only had one good friend in my universe, whose name I can’t remember. the other me’s never mentioned you. what’s your name?” you can read the pure curiosity mixed with amusement off his stiff posture.
in which, MARK GRAYSON gets hit with an aphrodisiac and runs to the only person on his mind; you.
‧₊˚✩彡
includes: mark grayson x bestfriend!reader, fem!reader, mature content (17+), tension, lowkey situationship w/ best friend labels, pwp, piv, dry humping, premature ejaculation, cumming in boxers (markus u loser lmfao), unprotected sex, dirty-talk, obsessive behavior, breeding kink, aphrodisiac, cream-pie, 4.7k words.
‧₊˚✩彡
kinktober masterlist.
YOUR PHONE was vibrating; again. harsh, singular notes echoing and buzzing through your room, stealing you from the comfort and ignorance provided by sleep. worming its way through your thick comforters, the ring-tone frayed dangerously on your last strings of patience-- finally defeating you as you sighed, deeply, reaching for your cell-phone. the only person contacting you at such an ungodly hour would be your best friend; his texts scurrying off against the digital fibres of your screen frantically, as if he was word vomiting with his finger-tips.
blinking regretfully at your screen, the harsh lighting from your phone was blinding in contrast to the familiar darkness of your room; mark's name dashed across your screen and you think vaguely, i should have never let this man's notifications by-pass do not disturb.
a series of texts, spanning just under an hour, glow tauntingly against the shadows of your face.
---
'hi i am coming back rn' - 12:56 am
'dude i hate space some weird alien thing like... spat in my face bro' - 12:58 am
'i tjink it thought i was being rude when i looked disgusted but tbf who DOES THAT?? who spits in a strangers face' - 12:58 am
'cs that dude did it AGAIN like sorry i am not familair w ur customs ya dick' - 12:59 am
'anyways i thinkn im fine im grossed out sure but i feel fine so wtv' - 1:01 am
'my finger tips r tingly......... like weirdly tingly..................' - 1:27 am
'ok so a little bit more of me is tingly now. not a fan, would not recommend.' - 1:36 am
'i feel so weird can i come over ik ur prolly asleep bu t ur bed is better than mine n i think i js need to sleep this off' - 1:40 am
'u can say no tho duh' - 1:40 am
'i take that back, sorry. you cant say no.' - 1:42 am
'im coming.' - 1:44 am
'fuck' - 1:45 am
---
another sigh ripped itself from your lungs, and your phone met the plush of a pillow as you discarded it haphazardly from your grip. mark could be a stubborn boy sometimes, eager in his actions-- often doing before thinking. rolling onto your side to get what little rest you'd acquire for the rest of the night (you and mark had never truly been able to sleep whenever someone hosted a sleep-over; giggling wildly into the lazy hours of the night, time slipped through your fingers like sand with him. easily, and as natural as remembering to breathe); a thought wiggled its way into the depths of your mind, and you smiled ever so slightly as your eyelids grew heavy.
you were sure this was just another time where mark was acting before thinking.
✩✩✩
the act of subtlety had never been mark's strong suit-- a fact you were sorely reminded of as the sound of your window being slid open screeched throughout your bedroom. the noise was jarring, loud; as if the inanimate object itself was yelling, mark is here!
gripping your window-sill with an odd sort of clumsiness and disorganization, mark crawled through your window heavily. it creaked underneath your best friend's weight, wood splintering softly in his wake-- as if this was some sort of unpracticed affair; the bulkiness of it all caused one of your eyebrows to quirk upwards as you sat up in your bed. "mark?" you questioned, rubbing your fist to your sleep-rimmed eyes in an attempt to shoo away exhaustion.
mark swallowed; he stood silently for a moment, his labored breathing the only sound reverberating through your bedroom, before he ran a hand through his hair.
(a nervous tick he had adopted from his father; odd.)
"hey," he said hoarsely, your name following the greeting lightly. the way he sounded, the way he recited your name-- it was almost as if he wanted to say more. like there was more on his mind he was unable to utter; because his mouth clamped shut into a thin line.
"are.. you hurt?" you asked eventually, because good lord, why was mark acting so odd? "you said your finger-tips were ... uh, tingly. and then you followed with the rest of you was feeling tingly too..." your voice trailed off, your unnecessary rambling a cheap effort at lightening the mood.
the boy shook his head, before peeling off his costume's cowl. "no--! no, not hurt," he reassured, faint traces of the mark you knew bleeding through the intense air of the room. "sorry." mark apologized meekly. his dimples popped ever so slightly as you watched him chew on his bottom lip-- the fat going practically raw and bloody underneath the inhumanely sharp canines mark housed.
one of your arms reached side-ways to flick on your bed-side lamp, soft yellows and oranges illuminating your bedroom. when the light reached your best friend, your eyebrows furrowed. mark's cheeks were flushed a romantic shade of red, and his brow-bone glistened underneath a sheen layer of sweat; black locks clung to his forehead, and, had you have been able to see it-- his pupils would have been blown unnaturally large. "mark," you rasped out, motioning for him to come closer, "what's wrong?"
the tips of mark's ears now started to burn the same shade as the rest of his face, his pulse spiking as he slowly approached you. your carpet crunched softly underneath the weight of his boots, and mark took post near the end of your bed. sitting, he rested his elbows on his knees, and held his pretty little head in his hands. "i.. uh, i don't know-- nothing's wrong."
"you don't look like nothing is wrong." you commented, your patience for the boy running thin as he dodged your question again.
there was silence in your room for what felt like an eternity; you stared expectantly at your best friend, and he bore holes into your wall as he stared straight ahead-- still, avoiding your question.
he sighed, suddenly, before mark's hands met the neck-line of his hero costume. using little to no strength, you watched him rip the fabric, tearing it down the center of his abdomen. the tear stopped right at his belly-button, and he began to shrug off the uniform hastily. between the ruffling of your bedsheets at his movement and the sound of fabric being torn from his body (mark was so dramatic), you had almost missed the words that fell so plainly from his lips.
almost.
"it hurts." mark had mumbled simply.
your head tilted, eyes squinting. despite having heard him perfectly fine the first time, you still questioned the meaning behind his words. "what?" you gaped, your irises tracing the faint flex of his biceps as he peeled his arms from the sleeves of his hero costume. "what hurts? i thought you said you weren't injured--"
mark cut you off, his voice uncharacteristically rasp. desperation. "i'm not injured," he countered, as if that explained everything-- why he had been so eager all of a sudden to show up to your house.
"you're really fuckin' confusing me right now, mark," you sighed, dragging your hands up and down your face. "how can--"
mark cut you off again; except, this time, it was not with words. he stood from your bed, turning to face you. taking barely two strides had left him only a few feet away from your figure; he exhaled shakily, before gesturing downwards, "it hurts."
eyes following his motion, you felt suddenly stupid for not spotting the terribly large boner mark was sporting. in his defense-- even from overtop the sturdy fabric of his costume, it looked painful. resting along his lower stomach, you watched it pulse and jump, seemingly defiant of mark. "oh." you squeaked out, feeling something bloom desperately within your core.
"i-i can go," mark offered, stuttering nervously. "i just-- it went from like, zero to a hundred so fast--! one second i was fine, the next i was tingly, and then..." his voice trailed off, and hot burning shame crawled up the back of mark's neck. "i didn't know what to do. you- you were the only thing on my mind, suddenly and--" mark cut himself off, shutting his mouth into a thin line. the next time he spoke, it barely came out as a whisper. "i don't mean to make you uncomfortable, i know we're just friends," he mumbled sweetly, "but... if you aren't completely and utterly repulsed by me at this point, then i'd really.. uh, appreciate your help."
his confession, along with the compassion that oozed from his soul-- despite the less than ideal situation he caught himself in-- caused something to flutter to life within your ribs. it practically knocked the wind from your lungs, and the ambition (greed, hunger, restlessness) in your voice had even caught you off guard. "i can help you." the sensation of your panties dampening and clinging to the outline of your cunt unmistakable-- eyes darting down to his erection, your clit pulsed. "that's what.. best friends are for anyways, right?"
at your enthusiasm, mark seemed to flush an even deeper shade of pink— his tongue darting out to wet the plump of his lips. “are- are you sure?” he questioned, fingers playing the rip in his costume. “i kinda jus’ showed up without… asking if it was okay, you don’t have to feel obligated to help me if you don’t want to,”
“mark.” you broke his rambling quietly, swinging your legs out from underneath your comforter; the cool air that circulated your bedroom raising goosebumps along the fat of your newly exposed thighs.
the boy whispered your name back, an echo of his deepest, most riveting emotions terribly clear in his voice.
“i told you,” you started, curling a finger towards him to motion him closer to you— like expected, (like a good boy), mark obeyed wordlessly. “this is what best friends are for.”
your desire to aid mark certainly— was not out of the blue.
the both of you had been inseparable since early childhood; your bond growing suffocatingly strong day by day. wherever you went, mark followed blindly under the guise of friendship; but you both knew it was something stronger. something always there, lurking underneath the mask of comfortable touches, lingering glances, and joint souls. a singular night, years ago, you and mark had been fourteen; underneath the expanse of washington’s starry sky, your lips had slotted against his in a blind fury of affection. wrapped up in teenage innocence, mark had kissed you back with the same intensity, like he’d never get the chance again. despite this, you and him agreed to remain friends; the fear of change, fear of losing this friendship outweighing the complicated, uncharted waters of love.
the refusal, however, to make anything official didn’t stop your feelings from intensifying tenfold upon your later teenage years— mark’s, too, undying. instead, they bloomed into palms that groped far more than best friends should, and petty arguments that— instead of ending in a fit of giggles— ceased with his lips crashing ceremoniously onto yours.
nevertheless, you were now facing a line the both of you had not crossed before. as mark stood in front of you, his fingers fiddling with the rip of his hero costume, there was uncertainty and blurred lines. sweat beaded at his temples, and you could tell his self-restraint was wearing thin. mostly, though, through the uncharted fogs of intimacy-- there was lust.
"sit." you whispered, patting the bed beside you. mark did as you told, swallowing thickly. the heat radiating from his body was nothing like you had felt before-- as warm as mark usually ran, this was something entirely different. you leaned towards the boy, tilting your head slightly, to begin pressing kisses to his neck.
mark's breath caught, and his chest stuttered. there was a thick, heady need slowly blooming from his core-- and your touches, as light and teasing and beginning as they were-- were not enough. despite this, his chin moved upwards, allowing you better access to the skin on his throat. mark said your name; it was low, like a warning. "you're being so sweet," he groaned lightly.
you smiled against his pulse-point, before sucking on the flushed skin. "you say that like it's a bad thing."
"normally, it's not," mark shivered. "but i- i'm not normal right now."
that got your attention-- peeling yourself from his neck, your lips were plump and lazily coated in your saliva from your kisses. "what do you mean?"
"i told you," mark glanced down at his hands in his lap, which were busy slowly grazing the edges of the outline of his cock. "that stupid alien thing got it- it's powder all over me."
"so?" you questioned, not understanding how the two things connected.
mark flushed impossibly deeper, and you really looked at him.
he was panting, chest heaving up and down. his fingers kept twitching against his throbbing dick, and-- well, he was a mere two seconds away from drooling on you. "...you think the alien thing was an aphrodisiac?"
shamefully, mark nodded-- answering your question. "i-i've never been this hard in my life!" he exasperated, thumbs dipping into the fabric of his ripped costume, the need to yank it lower becoming all-consuming.
leaning forward again, your lips ghosted mark's jaw with ease. "okay," you whispered, vibrations sending shivers down your best friend's spine, "how do you want me to help you if i'm not allowed to be sweet?"
the sound of fabric ripping echoed through-out your bedroom again, and glancing downwards, what remained of mark's costume was dangling lifelessly from his knees. "i want," mark started, voice wavering, "i want you to let me use you."
"use me?"
mark nodded. taking advantage of your position so close to him, you felt a sturdy palm grasp the side of your face; he tilted your head, big brown irises meeting your own. "this isn't what i envisioned for our first time," the boy confessed, his breath fanning across your lips erotically. "i wanted to take my time with you."
your stomach flipped and swirled at his confession, arousal pooling thickly within your cunt. "you've thought about fucking me before?" you question; despite knowing the answer is yes (only because you cannot count the times you've fucked yourself to sleep to the thought of mark-- painfully aware the feeling is mutual), you want to hear him say it.
"no-- i've thought about making love to you," mark hums, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek due to proximity. "it feels almost.. uh, disappointing i'm not going to be doing that to you right now."
mark stood, suddenly, kicking off the remainder of his costume and discarding it aimlessly on your bedroom floor. hovering over you, he leaned forward, pressing you onto your back on the mattress.
your faces came tantalizingly close again, only now mark was lingering a few inches above you. "i don't think this will be disappointing," you express, bottom lip getting caught in between your teeth as you watch mark lick his own slooowly.
"it won't," he confirms, closing the gap between the both of you. your lips touch and the contact almost feels electric-- charged with anticipation and carnality. "and i'll make it up to you another time if it is." he mutters in between kisses, lips heavy and greedy as his mouth slots against yours. "i just-- i need you so bad, baby."
you hum, too wrapped up in the feeling of his lips on yours to pull away and speak. you toss your arms around his neck, pulling mark impossibly closer to you, and you feel him grind against your clothed pussy.
he moans whorishly at the action; every bump, every ridge, every vein of his cock more sensitive than he's ever felt in his life. the sound bleeds into your mouth, and you take the chance to stick your tongue straight down his throat. mark's hands take post on either side of your head, and he leans onto his forearms to steady himself above you-- his hips unrelenting in their movements against yours.
back and forth, over and over and over again.
the only thing separating the both of you now is mark's boxers (an embarrassingly large and crude wet spot forming where the tip of his dick rests) and your pajama shorts and panties. unhappy with this, your counter-part sticks a hand down your shorts to peel them off of your legs-- pausing his rutting until the shorts are off your frame, only to continue with a renewed hunger against your panties. "fuck," mark curses.
it's odd, hearing your best-friend curse; no, scratch that-- it's arousing hearing mark grayson curse. the swear falls from his lips, born out of impetuosity. the sound shoots straight to your pussy, and you can't help but moan.
in return, you hear mark gasp; your own sound spurring an entirely different version of the boy you love to life. he continues to hump, grind, and fuck you over-top your undergarments-- his swollen tip caressing your clit deliciously with every thrusts of his hips.
the both of you aren't even kissing anymore-- just breathing heavily, too entranced in the ecstasy of dry-humping to care about being close to each other in any other way.
"o-oh fuck," mark stutters suddenly, face falling immediately into the crook of your neck.
your eyebrows knit together momentarily, before you feel mark's entire body go rigid. "are you--?"
he nods, and a moan rips itself from his throat, almost as confirmation to what you suspected. it isn't long before the damp spot on his boxers becomes soaked-- his cum seeping through at an alarming rate. it falls in globs onto your panties, and in any other situation-- you'd be laughing.
but a good fifteen seconds have passed and-- mark is still cumming. his cock twitches underneath his underwear and he still, impossibly so, is leaking like a faucet. the worst part of it though, you realize, is that his dick is still painfully hard-- mark's orgasm having little to no aid on his arousal.
when he finally peels himself from the privacy of your neck, watery brown eyes meet yours. he opens his mouth, and you think the boy is going to apologize-- because that is a very mark grayson thing to do-- but all he asks is: "can you take me without prep?"
having caught you off-guard, you falter momentarily.
mark swallows, sucks his teeth, and then speaks again-- not waiting for you to answer his proposed question. "actually, i don't really care," he muses, his palms going to rest on your waist, "you will."
"mark--" you begin, watching him shrug off his ruined boxers easily. they fall to the floor, and you feel panic wash over you; to say mark is well-endowed would be an understatement. his cock glistens underneath the lighting from your bed-side lamp, and no amount of ambient lighting makes it look any less daunting than it is. it's not the width that's the issue-- it's the length. "holy shit, no--! i'll need something--" you try.
mark cuts you off by flipping you onto your side and pushing you further onto the bed. crawling to you, he settles in between your legs, straddling one of your thighs. the other he's got hoisted up on his shoulder by your ankle. "shh," he hushes, pressing a chaste kiss to your calf by turning his head, before using a finger to hook into your panties and pull them to the side. mark hisses, watching your cunt practically sparkle with slick. "look at how wet you are-- it'll be good, m'promise," he hums, aligning himself with your entrance.
the burn of his cock stretching you out follows not too long after his reassurances-- pain erupting from your cunt in a delightful way. mark falters, and you can see some of the boy you love resurface in this pussy-drunk, aphrodisiac infected version of mark grayson. "i know, i'm sorry," he coos. it's useless though-- as mark continues to push into you, inch by inch. "it'll feel good soon, baby, just-- haah-- let me get it in all the way."
when he bottoms out, it almost feels like mark is in your lungs. he's deeper than you thought was possible, and the way his face scrunches up suggests that he, too, feels euphoric.
without warning, his hips start to move-- his cock gliding in and out of your weeping cunt with ease. you cry out, your own hips rocking to both somehow meet his pace and thrash away from it. "ooh shit mark," you gasp, head lolling to the side.
mark only huffs in response, continuing to rock in and out of you desperately. "god-- needed this pussy s'bad," he groaned, tilting his head again to connect with your lower leg. you feel his lips begin to litter open-mouthed kisses to your ankle, the tip of his cock nudging your g-spot repeatedly.
there isn't much you can do back, in such a crude position, but you try to match your best friend's pace regardless. without thought, you shove a hand underneath your tank-top-- fingers instantly connecting to your stiffened nipples to roll them back and forth. the added stimulation has your back arching, and mark moans at the sight.
"that's right," he encourages between breathy moans, hips bucking wildly against your body-- the sound of your thigh meeting his v-line creating obscene noises that reverberate through your bedroom. "feels s'good, doesn't it? g-god, you're all i've been t-thinking about since that stupid shit got into my s-system," mark whines, bottoming out inside you once again, only to push his hips deeper-- grinding and reaching places inside your pussy you didn't even know existed. "like, all at once; it was just you: your face, y-your scent, your-- fuck!-- your perfect tits n' cunt,"
mark's mindless babbling only causes your pussy to clench around his fat cock harder-- squelching and pulsating pornographically. "y-yeah?" you manage to ask, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as he begins to thrust again.
"yeah." mark confirms this with zero hesitation, sweat beginning to drip down his brow-bone and onto the bridge of his nose as he fucks you deeper. "all i could think about while fuckin' cecil was rambling on and on about shit i- i don't even care about," he groaned, head tilting backwards in pure bliss. "'c'mon invincible, didn't you get the reports on the possible foreign allyship colony in-- no, you old fuck, i don't care about that--!" mark's mockery of his boss causes you to laugh-- although it's cut short when the boy impales you on his dick again. "in fact, the only thing i-i've cared about in the past--ohh-- hour is filling my best friend up with my cum."
that causes your eyes to shoot open, and you can't conceal your shock. "w-what?" you sputter, although the way your cunt strangles mark's cock is evidence that you're not as opposed to that idea as you may seem.
"i- i can't help it, i need it," mark whines, his dick throbbing against your walls. "needed you to be wrapped around my cock, n' you let me have that," he begins, "n' now i need to stuff this pretty pussy with my cum so you'll be leakin' me for days." every thrust of his hips now is pointed-- purposeful.
your jaw goes slack, and against your better judgement, you don't argue with him; in fact, you're nodding wordlessly along to his chatter, cunt aching now with the need to be filled. your moans fill your room harmoniously with mark's.
"shiiit," mark groans, brows furrowing, before suddenly pulling out of you. you whine at the loss of him, immediately missing being full, before you feel the boy yank you towards the head of your bed. naturally, you roll onto your back from your side.
mark grabs the leg of yours he had been straddling, bringing it to his second shoulder so now both of your legs dangle near his head. leaning forward, he grasps onto your bed-frame, while aligning himself up with you again.
your back arches violently off of the pillows as mark fucks into you again, this time, not giving you time to adjust to his size. "fuck," he curses, eyes rolling into the back of his skull, "i d-don't know how i didn't immediately bend you over the second i got into your room-- shiit--! i needed this so bad,"
"too busy being nice." you groan softly, and through squinted eyes, you can see the corner of mark's lips tilt upwards.
his grip tightens on your headboard, knuckles going white at the intensity in which he's grasped onto it with. "fuuuck, it doesn't matter now, though, huh?" you shake your head, moaning desperately, and mark grins. "that's right, pretty girl, it- it doesn't. all it means is-- is that i've gotta' make up for lost time."
thrust after thrust, you suddenly feel a hot coil in your stomach begin to form. "mark," you gasp out, fingers tangling themselves in the sheets of your bed as your orgasm approaches quickly.
"oh," mark cries out, terribly in tune with your body as his own hips begin to twitch-- the loss of rhythm in his thrusts apparent as he chases his own high. "wan' you to cum all over this cock, baby," he whispers, fingers digging into your headboard. "and- and i'm going to-- haaah-- fill this cunt up with my cum, breed this sweet fuckin' pussy,"
at his words, and the idea of being filled to the brim with your best friend flooding your mind-- your cunt begins to spasm uncontrollably. "i- i'm cumming," you sob, back arching and hips twisting away (unsuccessfully) from mark's incessant thrusting.
"ooh, fuck--! yes, yesyesyes, cum all over me, that's r-right sweetheart, shit," mark follows suit not long after-- his cock pulsing and spilling his seed into your pussy at an alarming rate. he's groaning, swearing, gasping at the sensation of your cunt greedily sucking up his cum, and he rides out his high by fucking it deeper into you. "fuck-- can't waste any of this cum, right? if- if you wanna be bred, you have to take all of it," mark rambles, hips rocking into yours.
your legs tingle from where they rest on mark's shoulders-- the sensation almost enough to distract you from the heavy weight that still rests snuggly in your cunt.
almost.
through thick lashes, you glance downwards at where you and mark are still connected; although he's catching his breath, you feel mark's cock twitch to life within you again. "mark," you warn hoarsely, voice destroyed from being fucked.
mark swallows, a guilty sort of look painted across his expression. "m'sorry," he apologizes, before he retracts his cock from your cunt-- only to slam it back into you again.
you gasp at the action, toes curling and hips thrashing. "i- i can't--" you try, but mark interrupts you.
"i know," he coos, still thrusting in and out of you now, his pace quickening rapidly. "but- but i jus' need to cum again," mark argues, face scrunching at the sensation of your pussy gripping onto him-- your body's way of saying you need him to stay inside of you without words. "just one more time, okay? m-make sure-- oh fuck-- make sure this cunt is stuffed to the brim."
you nod wordlessly, chin tilting backwards as delirium washes over your body-- far too cock-drunk to tell mark you know he's lying; to tell him you know he won't be able to stop cumming inside of you, spilling into your most sacred part, bind himself to you. to tell him you know the aphrodisiac won't wear off for another few hours, that this is far better than him taking it slow with you, that you wouldn't want to be anywhere but underneath him for the rest of your life.
all you say, instead, is through gritted teeth-- as he bottoms out again, harshly, punishing your g-spot. "t-that's okay," you slur, nails dragging down mark's lower stomach, "this is what best friends are for."
PLUVOiA 25’ ® - masterlist
loren's thots: this was more plot than porn im sorry </3 it lowk feels too intimate for kinktober too like damn...... idk i think some of the appeal is the tension between reader and mark but idk u tell me. in any case i hv other mark works if this one doesnt tickle ur fancy, but i hope it does!! it tickles mine tho i lowk need this man to knock me tf up!
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
edit: so i quit writing invincible but here's a partial part two
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]?”
mark ... w a physically affectionate reader ... they love holding him , blowing him kisses from afar in the most dramatic way possible, holding his waist when walking or standing behind him , sitting on his lap etc .. theyre GLUED to mark i fear 🙂↕️
stuck like glue
“Don’t pull out yet…” You sniffle softly, turning your head to try and peak at him. “Hm?” Mark hums, blinking stupidly. You wriggle a bit on his lap, he hisses quietly, “I said don’t pull out yet, wanna be close still.” Mark sighs, but holds your hips to keep you still, his dick can’t handle you wriggling around.
He slumps forward, his cheek against your clothed back, the two of you had been impatient. Life can get in the way of sex, you thought with Mark in a dorm you’d be able to fuck 24/7 but alas… between his superhero shenanigans, classes, william being around… it was pretty difficult to get his cute girlfriend bent over and fully naked.
So in the midst of attempting to study it went from your sweet mewls for a hug… then a kiss… reassurance that he still sees you as the apple of his eye… his dick just sort of ended up in you… Mark can’t help but find your need to stick to him kind of hot. So hot that your shirt never even came off, and he just kind of grabbed his dick through the fly of his boxers… sue him. It’s not like your pussy minded, still slick and leaking against his balls.
“You okay? Too much?” Mark contemplates pulling out hearing you sniffle. He stops when you shake your head, “I’m okay, just wanna be close to you.”
“Baby… my dick is still inside, how much closer could we be?” Mark doesn’t mean to be crude, but he’s realized it’s best to be honest with you. “Sorry…” you mutter leaning forward on his desk, the surface is cool against your clammy skin. “No sorries, you just missed me didn’t you.” He teases only a little, his hands going from your hips to rub your stomach, it’s almost uncomfortably hot, he shudders when you tighten around him, the attention is welcomed. “I did… you’ve been really busy… thought you forgot about me..”
Mark doesn’t think he could forget about you even if he got thrown to a different planet, pussy this good gets a guy whipped fast, he’s at your beck and call. “How could I forget about someone as perfect as you?” Mark twitches inside you, fuck he’s so easy, brushing your hair over your shoulder to mouth at your nape. “Was in a fucking coma and I couldn’t forget about you.” He sighs, eyes almost rolling back as he gently adjusts you forward, taking a little peak to see your labia spread around him, the creamy mess making every slick noise audible.
“Mark— don’t joke about that.” You sigh, lulling forwards, his strong arms wrap around you. Maybe you did it on purpose, just to feel his strong biceps tense around you.
“‘s true though, shit—” Mark shudders, his hand snakes down past your navel, slowing his thrusts to gather slick and drag it up, parting your folds to rub your clit. There is no way he’s gonna come before you…again. You hiccup, between the first orgasm and the duel sensation you arent far off. “Still sensitive?”
“Mmph yeah.”
“Me too.” Mark gasps, his mouth kissing whatever is in reach, your nape, behind your ears, your shoulders. “I can’t be apart from you for so long again.” He groans, maybe he’s just as needy as you are, or maybe you’ve just rubbed off on him, in a metaphorical way of course… “Me neither, I can’t stand it.” You hiccup, reaching behind and squeezing his tense thigh, the wet little noise you make makes Mark shiver, you pussy spasms around him as it clenches with second long intervals, the jerky little shake of your hips has him practically hearing colors, “Fuck— inside?” He hiccups like an idiot, like he hadn’t already come in you earlier, you whine at his stupidity, he’s spilling inside you before you can confirm, he’s too fucking sensitive, going tense, biting into your shoulder so he shuts the fuck up and doesn’t moan like a amateur porn star as any brains he has left explodes in favor of overstimulating himself with your pussy.
You shiver as he catches his breath, “I think I need a minute… your pussy fried my brain.”
“Huh?”
“Just… Just shut up and I’ll shower with you and give you a massage.”
M!Readers who are best friends with Mark thru almost every universe— which they either have a massive crush on or actually were able to get together. While everything was great, some marks who had strong ties to their viltrumite side felt a bit of melancholy due to not being able to procreate with you.
Certain variants who lost their bestfriends/lovers are able to come across an universe where reader is a female… how lucky was this mark of this universe? This was so unfair. The mark of this universe could actually have a biological family with you and and—-
Too bad Fem!Reader is dating Fem!mark, who is furious with the thought of male versions of her trying to take her reader away.
Out of all the heroes in the Guardians, yours is his favorite.
GDA!Mark hides the biggest nerd in the entire Global Defense Agency. He’s supposed to be one of the most disciplined agents on duty calm, collected, and professional. But the truth? He’s a total geek, and his favorite hero in the world just happens to be you the Blue Comet.
Mark can’t believe he’s working alongside his idol. Every time he sees you in action, his heart practically short-circuits. But he has to keep a level head. Cecil would have his hide if he caught him fanboying on the job. So, Mark keeps his cool front, voice steady, posture perfect, pretending he’s not internally screaming every time you flash that confident grin.
He loves your cocky attitude, the way you brag after every victory, the way your curls bounce when you toss your head back. You’re fast, fearless, and a little arrogant everything he wishes he could be. The rest of the GDA would probably get sick of him, but he wouldn’t care. To him, you’re the coolest, prettiest hero alive.
After a quick takedown of a D-level villain, you stand in front of a cheering crowd, basking in the attention.
“You know, I could always give you my autograph!” you tease, brushing your curls out of your face.
“No,” Mark says automatically through his mask, voice flat and professional. But under that helmet, he’s giggling and blushing like a fool. His favorite hero just offered him an autograph.
“Huh! I’m the fastest, you know!” you huff, stomping your foot like an impatient rabbit.
“You’re reckless, that’s what you are,” he replies before flying off, leaving you fuming in front of the crowd.
“God, I hate that guy!” you grumble, crossing your arms.
Meanwhile, inside his helmet, Mark’s losing it. Oh my god, oh my god, he thinks, practically vibrating with excitement. He can’t handle being this close to you.
Your relationship with him is a strange one. You’re used to attention after all, you’re the Blue Comet, Red Rush’s successor. But Mark treats you like you’re just another hero, sometimes even brushing you off entirely. It drives you crazy.
“He thinks he’s so cool just because he can fly fast! I’ll show him my speed’s the best there is!” you rant to your teammates.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Eve laughs, trying to calm you down.
“No way! I’m better than that stale piece of beard!” you snap, still fuming.
What you don’t know is that under his helmet, Mark is barely holding it together. He’s working alongside his favorite hero constantly thanks to Cecil’s habit of assigning him to Guardian missions. He gets to see your little pouts when he ignores you, your fiery temper when you lose your cool. He doesn’t want to ignore you; he wants to give you all the attention in the world. But he can’t. He’s GDA. He’s supposed to be composed, elite, untouchable.
Still, he can’t help himself. His helmet’s camera quietly snaps high-quality photos of you during missions, which he later turns into photocards. His itabag is covered in your likeness pins, patches, stickers, everything. Regular fans don’t even come close to his level of devotion.
❥・tags: mark grayson blurb, mark is a stalker but in a cute way, childhood friends to lovers, but also lowkey not childhood friends, comic or show mark with season 1 mark in mind, gn!reader, no use of y/n, no dialogue
❥・word count: 434
Mark Grayson, who met you in kindergarten.
Mark Grayson, who chose to sit next to you in his unassigned assigned seat.
Mark Grayson, who would come home excitedly to tell his mom that you looked at him during class.
Mark Grayson, who would make sure your seat was open until you arrived every morning.
Mark Grayson, who made sure to pack extra valentines for you every year.
Mark Grayson, who scoped out his classrooms at the beginning of the school year to see if you were put in his class.
Mark Grayson, who came to every class period the minute before the bell to make sure everyone was in the classroom, to see if you were there.
Mark Grayson, who found the closest seats near you in the classes you had together.
Mark Grayson, who traded seats with the people next to you just to sit near you.
Mark Grayson, who was shocked to see a Seance Dog keychain on your bag.
Mark Grayson, who nervously asked if you read the comics.
Mark Grayson, who doesn't know how attractive he is.
Mark Grayson, who was confused as to why you wanted to go out with him.
Mark Grayson, who gives you free burgers when you visited him at work.
Mark Grayson, who told you about his powers the second he got them.
Mark Grayson, who gives you late-night flights when you text him that you can't sleep.
Mark Grayson, who tries so hard for you.
Mark Grayson, who forgets to tell you about his off-world missions.
Mark Grayson, who isn't perfect.
Mark Grayson, who vents to you about the GDA.
Mark Grayson, who enjoys your study sessions, your attempt to help him graduate.
Mark Grayson, who doesn't see the need for school, though he appreciates your efforts.
Mark Grayson, who needs any excuse to hang out with you, with his busy life.
Mark Grayson, who wants to spend every waking and sleeping moment with you.
Mark Grayson, who has too many impulsive sleepovers at your house.
Mark Grayson, who finally introduces you to his parents.
Mark Grayson, who's mom loves you.
Mark Grayson, who makes sure you're safe.
Mark Grayson, who vents to you about his father.
Mark Grayson, who, despite his father's actions, tries to give you the same experience dating him as his father gave his mother.
Mark Grayson, who insists you never visit him in the GDA hospitals.
Mark Grayson, who swears he'll keep you safe until his dying breath.
Mark Grayson, who loves you so much that he would take over the world for you (he won't, but he would).
❥・a/n: mark grayson is a shitty bf but in fanon hes not trust
