#invincible variant

The last thing you remember is screaming. And it was you, obviously. Mark would never make a peep, no matter how terrified he truly felt. Perks of Viltrumite training, I guess.

Wait—Where is he, anyway?

Wiping off dust from your spacesuit, you explore the area, looking for your mate. But he's nowhere to be seen. So you get into the air and fly away, eyes flicking around in search for the heir.

It's not like you're worried. Not for him, at least. Mark can fend for himself, and so can you. And together you're indestructible, but on your own—not as much. And since you have absolutely zero idea what planet did you land on, it's best to find him and get out of here.

You might encounter absolutely anything and anyone here; there's no way of knowing if this planet is home to creatures aggressive and vile like the Ragnars, or rather peaceful and kind like the Thraxans. It's also quite possibly not a Viltrum colony, since no one greeted you the moment you hit the ground like a meteorite, struck down like a rookie by some damned satellite.

Calling for him is pointless; if he's near, he will hear you, or find you by your scent. Otherwise, you're risking outing yourself as vulnerable on an alien planet. And if anything hurts you, Mark will wipe any and every species off the surface of this place.

Tall buildings start popping on the horizon line, smaller settlements with tiny houses below you. The area looks calm, peaceful and quiet. But you know you can't trust it, not until—

"Mark!" You yelp happily and glide down at your maximum speed, tackling him to the ground. He lands on his back, arms covering his face as you straddle him with your legs. "I am so happy I've found you—" you mumble between peppering his arms with kisses, and that's when you realize he looks different.

"What are you wearing?" You lean back, resting your weight on all four hands bracketing his head and shoulders. "Or, never mind. Better tell me where the hell are we—stop covering your face!" You groan, forcibly trying to remove his arms, but to no avail. "What is wrong with you?"

"Leave me alone!" Mark shouts and pushes you off him, much gentler than you expected. Something's off, and it settles heavy in your chest, both of your hearts dropping low.

"Hey…" You crawl back to him and try to cradle his face, but he sits up, his back facing you. "It's me," your voice trembles now, as you slowly move closer to him, "your mate."

"I don't know you!"

The words hit you like a thousand daggers. He must be hurt, there's no other explanation for this odd behavior.

"Mark…" you whisper and rest your right hands on his back, smoothing them down the line of the rigid muscles you know so well. When he tenses at your touch like a cornered animal, you gasp. What has this planet done to him?

"You don't remember me?" You question, inching closer, your breath warming his neck. Then, an idea pops up in your head. And so you snake on your right arms around his torso, with one of your left hands threading through his silky, black hair. "I think you need a little reminder," you coo, your lips grazing the back of his ear.

Mark's body is softer than you remember, but as warm as always. His skin prickles when you slide your hand under the weird top he's wearing. You smirk; your plan working just as you wished it would.

"Look at me," you purr and not waiting for his reply, you take his chin and turn his head towards you, until your lips meet his in the softest, gentlest kiss you two ever shared.

It doesn't last long until you're suddenly airborne, Mark left on the ground with eyes open wide like the full moon, shock and terror written all over his face. You want to turn, see who has this steel hold on all four of your hands, until the familiar smell hits your scent glands.

"I'm taking you back home. Now," your Mark growls and flies off with the speed of light, leading you to a glowing, purple portal.

Before you know it, you're back on Viltrum—familiar shade of gray stretching everywhere your eyes can reach. Then, in a blink of an eye, you're in your shared quarters, your back hitting the wall so forcefully all air is kicked out of you.

"You've betrayed me." Mark spits slowly, his fingers curled tight around your neck. With your legs above the ground, you scrape them against the smooth wall for some purchase, but he only pushes you more against the surface.

"I—I thought—it was—you—" You rasp, all four of your hands holding his arm. But that explanation only makes him more furious, as he furrows his brows over his dark, soulless eyes.

"You've mistaken me for some pathetic copy?"

"He—he smelled—" you gulp, very close to running out of oxygen, "—exactly the same—"

"Liar!" He loses it completely and screams, then throws you across the room until you hit the bed with your ass up. Before you get a chance to move, Mark's rough, claiming hands are on you, ripping the bottom of your Viltrumite colony suit into pieces.

"That man you allegedly thought was me," Mark pants, pressing on your bare ass with his already hard cock, "reeked of weakness, and fear."

You whine when he rolls his hips against you and shouts, "And I'm no coward! Say it!"

"You're—" you choke on a sob at his rough fingers sliding up into both of your holes, "—not a coward."

Mark takes away his hand from your already wet folds and smears the slick on your cheeks, before lowering himself, his voice getting low and dangerous as he whispers against your cheek, "Need I remind you, who's your one and only owner?"

With tears streaming down your face, you nod vigorously, but he only grabs your mouth forcefully, making you look at him. "Answer me, now."

"Yes—please, I want—" you yelp as he smacks your ass, correcting your choice of words, "—need a reminder."

"Thought so," he replies, his voice gravelly and laced with heat.

You don't have to wait long, as he grabs both of your lower arms with one hand at the small of your back, his other hand busy with breaking free from the confines of his suit. He hisses when cool air lick his hardened length, only to soothe it seconds later, gliding the tip along your folds.

It only takes him one clean thrust to bury himself up to the hilt, and then he immediately starts rocking his hips with relentless speed and force. You barely have time to adjust to his size, whines and whimper spilling out of you, when Mark pushes his thumb inside your puckered hole.

'I should—execute you—for that," he groans, not slowing down despite your two free arms grabbing at him. "To dishonor me—nhgf—the heir, is treason."

"Please…" you manage between uncontrollable cries, as his cock hits that perfect spot inside you over and over again. With addition of his thumb going in and out your ass, you're pitifully close to your orgasm, the whole dynamic getting you there insanely fast.

"If you're begging for forgiveness—" his voice goes down an octave, laced with effort as hips hit against yours even faster, bed frame squeaking and threatening to break, "—do it properly."

"Forgive me! Please!"

"So pathetic." You can almost hear the faintest smirk in his voice, but it doesn't worry you, because Mark snakes his hand around your waist to your clit, and presses it with the perfect pressure, sending you right over the edge.

You grab and twist your fingers around the plain bedding, your body shaking like a leaf on the wind and coat his length and suit with your slick.

This brings him closer too, as after only a few more thrusts, he still against you and spills hot, white ropes inside you, with quiet groans leaving his cold, plush lips.

For a moment, his chamber is quiet if not for your ragged breaths. When he pulls out, you tremble, feeling his cum trickling down your pussy. Mark throws a wet rag at you with disgust, but you know him well enough to see there's silent praise in his judging look, too.

"Clean yourself. You stink of that pitiful knock-off version of me."

You get up from the bed and wipe away whatever you can, before picking up the shredded pieces of your suit from the ground. When you look up, Mark is already naked—and hard, again.

"Why are you still dressed? You look ridiculous." He raises a brow, staring at the offending remnants of fabric clinging to your chest. Without a peep you free yourself of your top and come up closer to him, risking resting all of your hands on his chest and abdomen.

"On your knees," Mark commands calmly, "you're not forgiven yet."

🪐👽⭐️💜

Mark Grayson, a regular human teenage boy, was still sitting on the ground after someone who looked exactly like him dragged away a green and pink, four-armed alien girl—who kissed him like she knew him—through a purple, glowing portal.

He stared at the sky, were the two of them just vanished, still bewildered. Not with the existence of dimension portals, aliens or his doppelgangers—when your dad's a Viltrumite, you're fully aware of such things.

No, he was terrified with the fact that he liked it—liked her kissing him, and that he was enamored by her smell of all things. And the worst part is, he's probably never going to see her again.

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nothing ever happened in this dump at this hour surprisingly. no rampaging villains to put through a wall, no collapsing buildings to prop up last-minute, not even a damn bank robbery to spice things up. just the same old houses, the same old people, the same old nothing. he sighed, tilting his head back. maybe he should just bail—go home, flop onto his bed, and finally read the new issue of seance dog that had been sitting on his desk for two days.

he pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders, ready to take off—

"invincible."

cecil’s voice crackled through the earpiece in his right ear, sharp and no-nonsense. mark groaned, tapping the device. "what."

"we’ve got an unidentified object approaching earth at high speed. trajectory puts it landing in your area. intercept and assess—neutralize if it’s a threat. you know the deal."

mark’s lips curled into a grin. finally.

he barely had time to glance up before something streaked across the sky—a blur of green and purple, moving way too fast to be a meteor, way too alive to be space junk. it slammed into the park across the street with a boom that rattled windows and sent birds scattering in panic.

mark didn’t hesitate. he kicked off the roof, the air whipping past him as he dropped down, landing hard enough to crack the pavement near the smoldering crater you’d left behind. dust swirled in the air, thick and choking, but as it cleared—

there you were.

and oh, this just got interesting.

you were… colorful. like, stupidly colorful. not in some tacky, neon way—more like the kind of vibrant that made mark’s brain stutter for half a second. your skin was a warm, sun-kissed gold, like you’d been dipped in honey and left to glow under some star. your hair—wow, your hair—was a wild mess, strands floating slightly as if gravity had given up trying to tame it. and your eyes. bright, glowing green, like two emerald suns blinking up at him, dazed but sharp.

mark’s gaze dragged lower, slow and deliberate, drinking in the sight of you like he’d just stumbled across something precious. yeah, you were built like him—lean but layered with tight, coiled muscle, the kind of body that spoke of battles fought in zero gravity, of limbs trained to twist mid-air and strike like a comet. but where mark was all rough edges and impatient energy, you were polished. sleek in a way that made his throat feel weirdly dry.

your outfit didn’t help. deep, royal purple—the kind of color that shifted in the dying light, almost metallic, like liquid amethyst poured over your skin. it clung to you perfectly, hugging every dip and curve of your frame, leaving your arms bare and flexing, biceps tensing as you tested the cuffs. the fabric looked smooth but impossibly tough, like it could take a hit from a plasma cannon and barely singe.

then there were the details—the silver metal sleeves encasing your forearms, running from wrist to just beneath the swell of your bicep. sleek violet boots, fitted like they’d been forged onto you. and that collar—high, armored, framing your jawline and flaring over your shoulders like some kind of alien royalty. it gave you this… presence. like you hadn’t just crash-landed in a park. like you’d meant to make an entrance.

mark’s lips quirked. space prince. a really pissed-off one, judging by the way you were glaring at your restraints.

interesting.

mark's eyes dropped to your wrists, where thick, pulsating cuffs glowed with an eerie violet light. they weren't just restraints—they were alive with foreign tech, humming like a trapped wasp nest, their surfaces crawling with strange, liquid-metal runes that shifted under his gaze. you groaned through clenched teeth, the veins in your biceps standing out as you wrenched against the cuffs which were flashing brighter in response as if mocking your efforts. a frustrated snarl ripped from your throat, one that made the hair on mark's arms stand up—there was something distinctly predator about it.

"well, well," mark drawled, his arms crossing over his chest, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his bicep. "looks like earth's got itself a new intergalactic tourist." his lips curled into that trademark smirk, the one that usually made people nervous. "let me guess—not the welcome party you were expecting, right?"

your head snapped up at that, those glowing green eyes narrowing. for a second, you just stared at him like he'd grown a second head, your nose wrinkling in a way that might've been cute if not for the dangerous glint in your eyes. when you spoke, it was like listening to a storm given voice—words that rolled and crashed in impossible rhythms, some syllables sharp as broken glass, others smooth as molten gold. the sounds curled through the air between you, carrying the scent of ozone and something distinctly not-of-this-world.

mark blinked, his smirk faltering for half a heartbeat. "uh. yeah," he said, shaking his head as if that might dislodge the foreign sounds from his ears. "no idea what the hell you just said."

your expression darkened, those glowing eyes flickering like a dying neon sign. he saw the exact moment you gave up on communication—your jaw tightening, the muscles in your shoulders coiling like springs. then, in a burst of motion so fast it left afterimages, you were gone. one second you were there, kneeling in the smoldering crater, the next you were nothing but a comet's tail of emerald and amethyst streaking upward, the shockwave of your takeoff sending dirt and debris spraying in all directions. the air where you'd been shimmered with displaced energy, the scent of burnt ozone hanging heavy in your wake.

"oh, hell no," mark growled, the words tearing from his throat as he kicked off the ground hard enough to crater the pavement beneath him. the air screamed past his ears as he shot after you, his mohawk flattening against his skull from the sheer velocity.

the chase was a goddamn lightning strike—you moved like starlight given form, all emerald and violet streaks against the twilight sky. you banked hard around a skyscraper, your restrained hands somehow not slowing the fluid way you carved through the air, dipping between buildings with impossible grace before rocketing toward the distant tree line. mark gritted his teeth until his jaw ached, pushing his limits to match your speed. you were quicker, yeah, but he was all stubborn rage and earth-born grit, refusing to let some cuffed-up alien outfly him in his own damn city.

the forest came up fast—too fast. the two of you crashed through the canopy in an explosion of splintered branches and shredded leaves, the scent of pine resin thick in the air as you skidded to a stop in a small clearing. dirt and debris sprayed outward from your landing, the impact sending small creatures scattering into the underbrush. you spun to face him, your cuffed hands held in a defensive position despite the restraints, those glowing green eyes burning like solar flares in the dim light. your chest heaved with each breath, but your stance never wavered—balanced, dangerous, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

mark barely had time to flash that infuriating smirk before you lunged.

your first strike shouldn't have been possible with bound hands—a vicious, glowing green haymaker that left afterimages in its wake as it rocketed toward his jaw. mark barely ducked in time, feeling the superheated energy of your fist singe the tips of his hair as it passed. he countered with a sharp jab to your ribs, but you twisted mid-air with impossible flexibility, your knee coming up in a brutal arc that connected with his diaphragm. the impact lifted him clean off his feet, all the air rushing from his lungs in a pained "oof" as he skidded backward through the dirt, his back slamming against an unfortunate sapling that snapped in half from the force.

"the hell—?!" he wheezed, his vision swimming as he struggled to draw breath. his ribs throbbed where you'd hit him—that shouldn't have hurt so damn much. why the hell do your hits feel like freight trains?

you didn’t let up. another punch—sharp, precise—aimed for his ribs. a spinning kick that nearly took his head off if he hadn’t ducked in time. every movement was fluid, calculated, like you’d spent years mastering how to fight even with your hands bound. mark blocked what he could, arms stinging from the impact, but damn, you were good. not just strong—trained. like someone had carved you into a weapon and set you loose.

"alright, enough," he growled, finally snatching your wrist mid-swing, his fingers locking around the smooth metal cuff. you snarled, muscles straining as you tried to yank free, but he held firm, his grip unrelenting. "i’m not trying to fight you, dumbass!"

you froze. your chest heaved, sweat glistening along your temple, those glowing green eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his pulse stutter. for a heartbeat, neither of you moved—just the sound of ragged breathing between you. then, slowly, your glare softened into something uncertain, almost curious. you huffed, nostrils flaring, before your gaze flicked down—to his lips.

then—

you lunged.

mark’s brain short-circuited. one second, he was glaring at you, ready to snap another insult—the next, your mouth was on his, warm and burning, like kissing sunlight given form. your lips were softer than he expected, but there was a roughness to it, a desperation that left him dizzy. your scent flooded his senses—something wild and electric, like ozone and crushed juniper berries.

he didn’t even realize he’d started kissing you back until you pulled away, and god, his body moved before his brain could catch up—chasing your lips in a hazy, instinctive daze, as if you’d stolen the air from his lungs and he needed it back.

you broke the contact with a quiet smack, licking your lips like you’d just tasted something fascinating. your tongue darted out, slow, deliberate, as if savoring the flavor of him.

"there," you murmured, your voice smooth now, laced with an accent that curled around the words like smoke. the glow in your eyes flickered, satisfied. "now i can understand you."

mark just stared, his lips still buzzing with the phantom warmth of yours, his heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape. he could still taste you—something sweet and foreign, like starlight given flavor. "...what the fuck."

his hand rose slowly, the back of it dragging across his mouth in a rough gesture, like he could wipe away the lingering sensation. it didn't work. "what the hell was that?" his voice came out strangled, higher than usual.

you blinked, your glowing green eyes wide with sudden concern. the way your brows knitted together was almost... cute. damn it. "i am sorry," you said carefully, each word deliberate like you were testing how they felt in your new tongue. your head tilted slightly as you spoke. "my people... we learn speech like this." you raised your cuffed hands slightly, fingers brushing your own lips in demonstration. "lips must touch. to know words."

mark's face burned hotter. "so you just- what, kiss people to talk to them?"

"yes." you nodded earnestly, then hesitated. your nose scrunched as you searched for the right words. "but... not for... pleasure? only learning." you gestured between the two of you. "now i understand you. but your face..." your hand hovered near his cheek, not quite touching. "you look... burned? did i hurt you?"

"no, i'm not- that's not-" mark sputtered, running a hand through his mohawk in frustration. he could still feel the shape of your mouth against his. "it's just... humans don't usually do that, okay? we learn languages the boring way. with books and shit."

your glowing green eyes widened, the light in them pulsing faintly with genuine surprise. "that sounds... very slow." you said it with such sincere, heartbreaking pity—like mark had just confessed he still walked everywhere instead of flying—that his lips twitched despite himself, a choked laugh threatening to escape.

mark groaned, his calloused palm dragging down his face hard enough to briefly distort his features. "unbelievable," he muttered through his fingers. "welp, there goes my first kiss. first alien i meet, and they're a total weirdo."

your head tilted slightly to the side, those luminous eyes blinking once, twice. the movement was so distinctly not human—too smooth, too precise—that it sent an odd shiver down mark's spine. "weer-dee-oh?" you repeated carefully, the unfamiliar word rolling awkwardly off your tongue. your nose scrunched adorably as you tested the syllables. "this is... a bad thing?"

the innocent question, paired with your utterly serious expression, finally broke mark. a sharp bark of laughter escaped him before he could stop it. "oh my god," he wheezed, shoulders shaking. "you're killing me here." he waved a hand vaguely in your direction, struggling to compose himself. "no, it's just- yeah, okay, maybe a little bad. but mostly... you're just different. in a... in a way that makes my brain hurt."

you considered this for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "then i will be... careful with your brain." you said it with such grave sincerity that mark had to bite his lip to keep from laughing again.

the sudden crackle of cecil's voice in his earpiece nearly made mark jump. "invincible. report. was that explosion our new visitor?"

mark sighed, pressing a finger to his ear. "yeah, yeah. we're all good. turns out tall, glowing, and stab-happy here isn't actually—hey!" he interrupted himself as he caught you twisting your wrists violently against the cuffs, your teeth gritted in frustration. without breaking his conversation, he reached over and snapped the remaining restraint like it was a stale breadstick. "—isn't actually a threat. just... real enthusiastic about first impressions."

"you're telling me you've made peaceful contact with an unknown extraterrestrial in under five minutes?" cecil's dry tone could've withered flowers. "should i alert the press about your stunning diplomatic skills?"

"shut up," mark muttered, pointedly ignoring the way you were now staring at him with those big, glowing eyes—like he'd just saved your family and your cat instead of breaking some stupid cuffs. your fingers flexed experimentally, green energy already crackling around your freed hands. it was... distracting. "look, they're harmless. mostly. just... really into the whole kissing thing."

a beat of silence. "...i'm going to pretend i didn't hear that."

"good call," mark said, watching as you shook out your wrists, that ridiculously grateful expression still plastered on your face. he pointedly turned his back, feeling his ears heat up. "anyway, we're cool here. no invasion today. probably."

"your confidence is overwhelming," cecil deadpanned. "anyway, bring them to headquarters immediately—the guardians and i will want to assess this situation properly."

"what? no, he's fine—" mark started, but cecil cut him off.

"that wasn't a request, grayson. headquarters. now." the line went dead with finality.

mark groaned, turning back to see your stupidly earnest face. "stop looking at me like that," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "it was just some cuffs."

you blinked, then smiled—slow and bright like a sunrise. "to you, maybe." your newly freed hand reached up, almost hesitantly, to brush against his arm. "to me... it was everything."

mark's stomach lurched violently, like he'd just missed a step going downstairs. that uncomfortable warmth spread from his chest up to his ears, burning under his skin. oh, this was so not good. with a sharp turn, he pivoted on his heel, deliberately facing away from you so you wouldn't see how flushed he'd become. "anyway, we gotta move. looks like we're taking a field trip," he muttered, voice rough around the edges as he started walking a little too fast.

you blinked, your glowing eyes widening slightly as your head tilted at that perfect, infuriating angle that made your hair sway. without hesitation, you floated after him, keeping pace effortlessly. "field... trip?" the words sounded foreign in your mouth, your accent wrapping around them curiously.

"yeah," mark grumbled, dragging a hand through his mohawk. he could already imagine the interrogation—cecil's piercing stare, the guardians' skeptical looks, and god, if his dad got involved... his shoulders tensed at the thought. "to meet my coworkers. and my boss." he shot you a sideways glance, trying to sound casual as he added, "try not to kiss anyone this time, okay?"

you gently shook your head, the motion sending little emerald sparks dancing through your hair. "there is no need to worry." your voice was soft but certain, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "i won't kiss anyone else other than you."

mark's steps faltered. he whirled around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. "what do you mean by that?" his voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched.

you looked at him with mild surprise, those luminous eyes studying his flustered expression with open curiosity. "i meant that i'll only ever kiss you if i needed to learn more of the language." a small, knowing smile played at your lips as you added, "though, i doubt i'd need to."

mark's brain short-circuited. the way you said it—so simple, so matter-of-fact—left no room for argument. that uncomfortable warmth in his chest bloomed hotter, spreading down to his fingertips. he swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close you were standing.

oh. he was so completely fucked.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

mark absolutely hated this. hated how you floated after him everywhere like some glowing green shadow. hated how you’d tilt your head at every little thing—vending machines, pigeons, traffic lights—like they held the secrets of the universe. hated most of all how cecil had dumped babysitting duty on him with that infuriating smirk. "just keep him out of trouble, grayson. how hard can it be?"

it was impossible. you were a walking disaster wrapped in purple uniform. yesterday you’d tried to "help" him stop a bank robbery by smiling brightly at the thieves and asking why they needed the money, as if you were going to try out to talk-no-jutsu them into not doing the crime anymore. the day before, you’d somehow set a hot dog stand on fire because "the meat tubes smelled sad and wished to be free." and now? now you were hovering two inches behind him as he tried to buy coffee, your chin practically resting on his shoulder as you stared at the cashier with terrifying intensity.

"dude. personal space," mark grumbled, elbowing you back gently. you didn’t move—just blinked those stupidly big eyes at him and whispered "the small human is giving you paper with numbers. is this a threat?"

mark’s eye twitched. "it’s called money, space case." he shoved a twenty at the cashier before dragging you away by your wrist, ignoring how your fingers immediately curled around his like some overgrown, alien puppy. "we’ve been over this. no interrogating minimum wage workers. no ‘investigating’ trash cans. and for the love of god—" he yanked you back as you started drifting toward a police horse, "—no trying to communicate with earth animals!"

you pouted, all soft lips and wounded dignity, your glowing eyes shimmering with genuine concern. "but the furry one looked lonely."

mark's stomach did that stupid, traitorous flip again—the one that made his ribs feel too tight. he hated that most of all. hated how you'd somehow woven yourself into every fucking corner of his life these past four weeks. you were practically living at his house now, curled up on his couch like some exotic housecat whenever his mom made tamaranean-friendly snacks (which she learned for hours from your instructions). debbie adored you, always saving the snacks just for you, laughing at your terrible attempts at earth jokes. even his father—stone-cold nolan grayson—had started giving you those barely-there smiles when you correctly answered his space trivia questions.

the guardians treated you like some precious child they had adopted. darkwing let you fiddle with his tech. war woman sneaked you candy. even cecil, the human embodiment of a migraine, had gruffly admitted you were "tolerable and nice for your own good." everyone loved you. and mark? mark was so, so fucked.

what he hated most were the nights. those quiet, vulnerable nights when you'd slip into his bed after nightmares about your crashed ship, wearing nothing but his stolen seance dog hoodie (now permanently smelling like starlight and something sweet) and those stupid black boxers that rode too low on your hips. you'd curl against him like a contented star, your warm fingers tracing constellations across his cheekbones, his collarbones, the hard planes of his chest—always to the rhythm of that damn song he'd first introduced to you. he never told you to shut up whenever you would hum or even sing the tune, not because your voice sounded nice or anything, but because it just so happened to be his favourite song. your humming vibrated through his skin, your breath warm against his neck as you studied him with that reverent gaze, like he'd hung every fucking star in your sky.

mark would lie there, barely breathing, his heart pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. he'd focus on keeping his muscles relaxed, on not shivering when your fingertips brushed his nipple accidentally, on pretending he didn't notice how your thigh kept sliding between his in order to tangle your limbs with his. and if his cock stirred in his sweats, thick and heavy with want? well. that was just biology. didn't mean anything. couldn't mean anything. because if you realized he was awake, if you saw the desperate hunger in his eyes, if you felt the way his hips twitched toward your touch—

it would ruin everything. and mark couldn't lose this. couldn't lose you. so he stayed still, stayed quiet, and let you have these stolen moments—even as they slowly drove him insane.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

"i've always been curious about these tiny little metal things on your face." your voice was soft with wonder, fingertips hovering just above his skin like you were afraid he might vanish. slowly, so slowly, you traced the silver buds by his eyebrow, following the curve like it held some cosmic secret. your touch drifted down, feather-light, to brush the labret piercing at the bottom of the corner of his lip. when your thumb accidentally grazed the fullness of his bottom lip, mark's breath hitched—just for a second. "why did you get them?" you whispered, glowing eyes searching his.

mark had learned many things about you these past weeks. like how you were practically made of starlight and touch, always finding ways to connect—a hand on his arm when laughing, fingers threading through his when nervous, your entire body pressed along his back when curious about what he was doing. at first, it had been shy little brushes, like you weren't sure you were allowed. now? now you draped yourself over him without hesitation, leaning in close to whisper terrible jokes in his ear just to feel him shake with laughter.

("you know," red rush had said once, smirking as you clung to mark's arm like a vine, "most humans don't just... climb their friends like jungle gyms."

you'd just nuzzled into mark's shoulder, completely unbothered. "but mark isn't most humans." and damn if that hadn't made his chest feel too tight.)

mark had thought about setting boundaries. once. for about five seconds. then you fell asleep on his chest during movie night, and the idea evaporated like morning dew.

now, with your fingers still tracing his piercings, mark swallowed hard. "dunno," he muttered, trying (and failing) to sound casual. "thought they looked cool, i guess." a beat. then, softer: "my mom cried when i came home with the first one."

your glowing eyes crinkled at the corners. "i think they're beautiful," you murmured, thumb brushing his lip again—and okay, that was definitely on purpose this time. "like... constellations. but on your skin instead of the sky." your other hand came up to cradle his jaw, your touch warmer than any sun. "may i...?"

mark's heart was doing that stupid pounding thing again. "may you what?" he breathed, already leaning into your palm.

instead of answering, you closed the distance between you, pressing the softest kiss to each piercing—first his eyebrows, then the corners of his mouth. when you pulled back, your smile was brighter than any supernova. "now i'll always remember how they feel," you whispered, like it was some precious secret.

mark was pretty sure his lungs had forgotten how to work. "you," he croaked out, voice rough like gravel, "are such a weirdo." but his traitorous hands were already dragging you closer, fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips as his forehead fell against yours. the words came out thick with something he wasn't ready to name—something that burned in his chest whenever you looked at him like that. and god, that smile—the one that lit up your whole face, the one that was only ever for him—it sent a wave of heat crashing through him, turning his cheeks and neck an embarrassing shade of pink that matched the sunset bleeding through his bedroom window.

"is that still a bad thing?" you asked, already shifting like this was your rightful place. in one smooth motion, you straddled his thigh, your legs bracketing his like they were made to fit there. your arms looped around his neck with practiced ease, fingers playing with the hairs at his nape like you'd done this a thousand times before. mark's breath hitched as your weight settled fully against him—the firm press of your ass against his thigh, the way your biceps flexed under his fingertips, the heat of your bare skin where his shirt had ridden up. and fuck, if he didn't focus real hard on the ceiling, he was going to lose his mind over the unmistakable press of your cock against his stomach, barely concealed by those stupid thin boxers you always stole from him. he was just wishing you didn't notice the raging boner in his.

mark swallowed hard, his own traitorous body responding in kind. "no..." he managed, voice muffled as he buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the scent of starlight and his own shampoo on your skin. one hand came up to cradle the back of your head, holding you close like you might disappear. "not with you." his lips brushed against your pulse point, the words spilling out in a whisper he couldn't take back. "never with you."

Okay, so. Imagine the variant of your choosing. Imagine him somehow ending up in your universe, doesn’t matter if you’re from the same universe as OG Mark, or another universe in general. 

All that matters is that you now have a Viltrumite boyfriend. Or husband. Or pet. Depends on whatever you guys wanna do. That’s for yall to decide yourselves. 

I like to imagine that Viltrumites have an extremely hard time putting on weight. They're a species made for fighting, and they have to burn a lot of calories because of their power, and all the energy they have to go through. Especially if you are dating a variant that’s extra violent or energetic. 

This also makes he think that gaining weight is a bit of a privilege for Viltrumites, and would be attractive, in some cases. Not for other Viltrumites, but like, if you were another species. 

But, imagine your Mark variant being so pleased and comfortable with you, that he starts putting on weight. At first your Mark wouldn’t notice, he’s just happy to have a hot partner that likes to cook him good food. 

Imagine cuddling with your Mark, feeding him snacks or whatever you’ve cooked. Mark groans at how good it tastes and how nice it feels to be pampered, even when he’s full he can’t stop, that just means all your work would go to waste, right? 

And now, imagine. Laying with your Mark draped over your lap on his back, so you can rub his belly because he’s full. It’s only when he starts doing this regularly that it kinda clicks for him that he’s putting on weight. 

At first your Mark wouldn’t know what to do about it, since he’s never actually been chubby before. Some Mark variants might even get insecure about it, where others don’t care. 

So, you gotta show him you don’t mind. Actually, you really like it. It ends with you just kinda pavloving him by accident. You don’t mean to, you just like rubbing his belly or grabbing his lovehandles when you guys are humping or making out. 

Gaining weight won’t make your Mark any weaker either, he still has the Viltrumite strength and speed, it’s in his blood after all. He’s just... softer now. Hell, that might even be useful in battle cuz he’s got extra padding. 

And, it just makes him very nice to lay on top of and cuddle. Theres something nice about grabbing his pecs after he’s started gaining weight too, cuz there’s stuff to jiggle and squeeze. 

Angstrom wouldn’t be able to get your Mark on his side, he’s too busy getting fed treats, cuddled and rubbed to go be evil. If he does meet other variants, well, your Mark make other Mark variants realize they wanna chub up too.  

Branching Route: Full Mask!Mark Grayson

Full Mask is an exhibitionist (nsfw)

Branching Route: Shiesty!Mark Grayson

Civilian AU: Shiesty

Branching Route: Viltrumite!Mark Grayson

Nail Reader Character Settings: Gender neutral, partial to completely blind Synopsis: He's the quiet, genius transfer that the grownups praised to high heaven, you're the chew toy for every bully in and out of school. He may have been the boy who lives next door, but he might as well have been a stranger. As far as you're concerned, you have no place in each other's life. You didn't think a cheap notebook would change that.

Milf Reader and Vil Mark

Harem Route: Standalones/One-shots

The Idea of You Reader Character Settings: AFAB, she/her Synopsis: You are a normal human, all things considered, but having the ability to see future events has doomed you to a life as the GDA's pawn. However, what begins as one uneventful day results in your whole world getting turned upside down by the echoes of a man you've only ever seen in your dreams.

Alt: The variants break the Reader out of her prison in GDA headquarters.

Drabbles/Imagines/One-shots

Rick Sanchez-level genius Reader who drags Angstrom to the wasteland where he sent the Marks

Cheating men must die

Variant!Mark Grayson who treats you way more kindly than he does everybody else

Variants encounter Invincible!Reader during the Invincible War

Variants with a chaotic evil Reader with Scarlet Witch powers

Variants react to their Reader wanting to break up with them (she's pregnant or scared that if she does have a child with them the baby will end up being forced to follow in their footsteps)

Reader gets replaced by an alternate version of themselves and the Marks find out

Main Mark and variants whose Reader gets into a motorbike accident

Variants and a childhood friend turned girlfriend that became blind before childhood was over

Doctor Strange/Herta Reader

Captured Mark (this is the variant that Angstrom interviewed and the one was captured by genderbent Cecil and Donald)

Short angst with Captured Mark

Male!Reader confesses to Mark and the variants (Main Mark, Full Mask, Maskless, Mohawk, Prisoner)

Zombie AU

Main Mark and variants with Neglected Batsis!Reader

Headcanons

Mark Grayson Variants as Husbands:

Emperor, Mohawk, No Goggles, Omni-Mark, Prisoner Mark

Cap Mark, Full Mask Mark, Maskless Mark, Shiesty Mark, Sinister Mark, Viltrumite Mark

Their pet names for you

If you one day you looked different, bordering on non-human, would he recognize you?

Fluff Alphabet for Mark Grayson Variants:

Mohawk

Omni-Mark

Prisoner

No Goggles

Harem AU

Chibi Reader

Giant Reader

Male Lead Clichés and Tropes

Full Mask, No Goggles, Prisoner and Target as otome game male leads because why not (ver. campus life)

Flaxan, Full Mask, Maskless, Omni-Mark, Target as otome game male leads because why not (ver. historical fantasy)

Main Mark and variants find out Reader draws them

Main Mark and variants find a way to prolong Reader's life but Reader does not want that

Main Mark and variants whose Reader gets up at night to draw them

Main Mark and variants with a clumsy reader

Variants with a paraplegic Reader

Variants fight a superhero Reader with shapeshifting powers

Variants with an asexual Reader

Variants with a Reader who loves to feed them

Variants (No Goggles, Prisoner, Shiesty, Sinister) with a waterbender Reader

Variants (Emperor/Target, Shiesty, Sinister, Viltrumite) who are soft only for their Reader

Main Mark and variants with a Frieren-like Reader

Music as Writing Prompts

Prisoner and Main Mark really fit Would You Fall in Love with Me Again

Happy Evil Love

Love with the Marks as told in Taylor Swift lyrics. Part 1, Part 2

Disclaimer: The images used in this post do not belong to me. They were lifted from the following sources:

Image of Invincible flying is from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-every-character-fate-comics/

Image of Alternate Invincibles is from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

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