#sinister mark

After hearing the news to stay inside as the attack of Invincible copycats decimated cities across the globe, you hid under your blanket, the light from your phone illuminating your face as you watched the broadcast for any sign of your Mark.

You could only hope that he was alright, that he wasn’t blaming himself, that he knew you were waiting for him to come back safe. He already has enough problems as is.

Your distress is momentarily tempered when you hear your window slide open and your floorboards creek. When you don’t hear Mark immediately greet you or tease you for being bundled up, any concern you felt for Mark becomes overshadowed by fear for yourself as you hear footsteps near your prone form.

You can only tremble, clutching your blanket close to your body until the room goes silent. You shakily exhale, becoming confused when another quiet beat passes. When your breath returns to normal, the blanket is ripped off of you, eliciting a scared yelp.

For a moment you only stare in confusion at the sight of your boyfriend’s estranged father before realizing it’s not Nolan Grayson that stands before you, but Mark clad in a costume similar to his father’s. His face is impassive, mouth a firm line, so unlike the expressive nature of your Mark.

He calls your name. Quietly, yet there was something heavy in his tone. Something you could almost delude yourself into thinking was longing.

His hand brushes against your cheek, moving down your face before resting on your shoulder, a finger pressed against your pulse.

“You sound healthy,” he comments, deceptively neutral in his delivery, but even behind his goggles, you could feel his gaze burning into your face, “In my world, you had cancer. By the time the Viltrumites reinforcements had arrived, it was too late. All that talk about life changing technology and medicine, but it ended up being utterly useless to me.”

Your breath hitches, but he continues, “But here there’s a me that rebelled and an you that never got sick. That got to live past high school. That’s just the way it goes, I suppose.”

His hand travels lower, brushing past your collarbone before resting on your breast, your heart hammering beneath his palm.

“Do you know why I came here?” He wonders, his free hand planting itself on your bed, as he moves his body to hover above yours until the only thing you can see is him.

“No,” you whisper, staring into black lenses.

“Because even after all these years, the only heart I wish to know, to hold, and to cherish is yours. I was willing to play human for you, to tolerate the presence of the idiots that breathed the same air as us, but then they all had the audacity to outlive you. And I can’t move on. So the selfish man that I am, I’m here to take you. To have you by my side again, no matter how much blood I have to spill,” He declares before pressing his lips against yours, muffling your gasp and cries, gripping your wrist when you try to shove at him.

He only pulls away when you start to feel lighthearted, looking down at you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“You can cry and protest all you want. You loved me once, you can do it again,” he asserts, bring your wrist to his mouth, leaving a kiss against your pulse point. “This world was doomed the moment your Mark decided to rebel. I won’t let you die because of his delusions.”

“…I’m not her,” you speak up. “I don’t know you, not really.”

“I know,” he responds, “but every inch of my body is crying out to you, and I’d rather kill everyone on this planet before I let you go again.”

He releases your wrist, instead sliding both hands under your shirt, gloved hands savouring the feel of your skin, your warmth seeping through the fabric.

“…you’re shaking,” he notes, throwing a glance at your discarded blanket on the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll warm you up. I promise.”

“Mark,” you say, out of instinct more than anything else, your mind coming to a blank.

“Shh,” he hushes you, voice gentle but firm, “Let me take care of you. Like I always do.”

A part of you is relieved that he hasn’t taken off his cowl because you knew you’d crumble under the emotion that would undoubtedly be in his eyes. The same eyes that always held so much love and adoration towards you.

His lips press against yours again, more demanding and heated, as hands travel higher and higher until—

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one that thought to come here,” an amused but familiar voice drawls out, the Mark on top of you pulling away, body covering yours protectively.

Another Invincible sat at your window ledge, black and yellow costume starkly contrasting the rest of your room. He smiles at you when you peak around Mark’s arm.

“Honestly, you were acting so high and mighty earlier, but you’re pretty desperate, huh?” He mocks as the other Mark’s face becomes stonier. “But, really, you should fuck off somewhere else because that’s my girl you’re feeling up right now.”

Before he can respond, another voice interrupts him as you notice yet another Mark, floating behind the one at your window.

“Fucking seriously? How did you even get here before me? I bet you halfassed your locations,” The Mark with a mohawk that has you raising your eyebrow complains, “I literally called dibs on this one! Find someone else!”

Feeling the tension build up, you only hope that Mark checks in and saves you from the bullshit you’re witnessing as they begin to snarl and yap at each other like feral dogs.

Why me, you lament.

Shiesty Mark: hey, babe, it’s Big Dick Friday—why the fuck are you all here??

Why is there no Omni Mark content, he and that shiesty mark were my favourite…

I feel like omni mark is the definition of ‘quite literally hates everyone but you’

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

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

MarkyWarky: please tell me you’re okay

You: i’m fine

You: i’m just scared mark 

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

MarkyWarky: i wish i could tell you

MarkyWarky: just stay put alright im otw

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t get far.

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

“Another survivor?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surely, his brain is playing tricks on him.

Then he hears it—they all hear it.

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

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

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

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

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

No.

No.

No.

This can’t be happening—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

“You won’t believe what just happened, oh man!” Mark exclaimed with glee; an unfamiliar look of pride swam within his irises. It was the night he received his powers; a deep crater buried itself into your driveway from his failed landing. “What?” you questioned, prying your front door open as he entered. There were scuff marks littered across his naked upper body, battered and bruised from his knightly adventure. “It was incredible. I—I flew,” he explained, his hand gesturing excitedly. This was a dream of his; he would craft makeshift suits and detail desired escapades to save the world. However, for it to come true was another story.

“No way! This… this is a funny joke,” you sputtered. One doesn’t usually acquire powers at random, but in this dimension, who knows? “No, really. I took a huge leap off my roof, not really expecting anything,” he interrupted to soften the already ridiculous landing of his story. “You know, and I just took off.” The topic was so exhilarating; the thought of questioning him hadn’t dawned upon you. He leaned against the back of your couch, crossing his arms as you two reminisced.

“Wait—why were you jumping from the roof anyway? What if nothing happened and you fell?” you questioned with a raised brow. “I know, I know, it’s stupid. But I was curious and decided to give it a try,” he rationalized quietly, fingers nervously scratching his nape. “Aw… I want powers now,” you feigned sadness as you sulked. It was your attempt at being amusing, but truthfully, you felt left behind. Was it envy? Was it the need to feel important? Was it the fear of him leaving you behind to begin his journey as a hero? You didn’t know at the time. His expression became tinged slightly with guilt. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get powers soon,” he reassured you, but it was too humorous to be sincere.

“Yeah… soon. Real funny, wasn’t it?” you said to yourself as your body perched against a rooftop. It was the second day of the Mark variants ravaging Earth like their playground. The once-majestic towers now stand as skeletal frames, their glass windows shattered. Debris litters the streets, a tragic mix of shattered concrete and twisted metal, and the air hangs heavy with the scent of smoke and ash. Heroes formed makeshift shelters and sifted through rubble for survivors.

The Mark you once knew was head over heels for Atom Eve. It was no secret; he was a lost puppy whose ears would perk at the sound of his name on her tongue. Utterly devoted. Sickeningly in love. You were the very last to discern his truth. The two were written in stone, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth that you had long since gotten over. Until now. You were late to the news of the world's destruction. A strangely familiar face appeared on the news, a version of Mark that made your chest tighten. Within your family, a strange ability was acquired—a power bred through evolution to ensure survival in a world full of the unknown. Once in a lifetime, through a series of visions, you would discover a pivotal moment in time to peer through. That moment was now. Eighteen variants were loose internationally, each with their own tragic story and love interests. Six had dated or lost their Atom Eve, five had slain their worlds' Amber, and six had been devoted to you.

Helping where you could, you began assisting in fighting off the weaklings who figured now was the best time to attack Earth. Micro tears riddled your uniform as you tore through them mercilessly, all through a look of pity. There were days you'd resent this “job” you'd granted yourself, the little recognition and appreciation you'd receive from the public. How selfish of them—and you. You wanted an excuse to have this world fair alone without a need to rebel when no one would notice. As luck would have it, a voice suddenly dawned behind you, his body floating midair and adorned with the appearance of your dearest friend.

Mohawk Mark

“Oh, shit… I know you,” he rasped, his expression twisted into a cocky grin. His stature and pose were that of confidence—and a man who caused insurmountable damage to those he met. “You look just like her,” he continued, his feet finding purchase on the ground as his stride increased. “Sorry, you've got the wrong one—try finding her—” Just as you spoke, static buzzed in your skull—a low crackling hum that drowned out the edges of the memory before it fully formed. It was there—just beyond reach—shrouded in white noise.

The harder you focused, the more the static swelled, but for a moment, the interference cleared. A voice—the ghost of a feeling—and just as quickly, it was swallowed again. You understood the gist; he was indeed one you would find yourself tangled with. “Looks like you’ve been through some tough shit—mind if I join you?” Without waiting for a response, he lunged forward, grappling you in a powerful embrace. His intent wasn't one of danger but instead of safekeeping despite his demeanor. Reflexes took over as you slammed against his cranium with the strength you could muster, effectively knocking him back.

"Fuck, you're a feisty one," Mohawk Mark growled, his breath hot against your ear. "I like that shit. Let's see how you handle this." His chuckle was condescending—yet a thrill shot through you. “‘Won't be handling shit,” you quipped before biting into his neck—just rigid enough to draw blood. He groaned, his flight knocking you two back into an alleyway.

Similarly to your Mark, he seemed attracted to strength, his veins pumping with lust rather than adrenaline. Holding a firm grasp of your jaw, his lips collided with yours in a searing and blood-stained kiss. The muscle of his tongue forcefully parted your lips as he sought to taste you against his own. Finding yourself against the wall, your legs wrapped around the width of his waist, your ass snugly hovering over his pelvis.

He pulled away every few seconds to watch your expression succumb to your selfish wants. Sex with the enemy was enticing and you weren’t letting him escape any time soon. “You planned this?” you murmured between the saliva-ridden kisses. “That would be telling. You know enough if you’re agreeing to this.” His voice grew to tease as he licked his lips—mirroring his satisfaction before peppering kisses down your exposed neck.

His version of sex was rough, with small increments of romance—only reserved for the best prize. With muffled groans, his teeth harshly nipped their way lower, his fingers tearing through the fabric of your suit. As he continued down your now-exposed cleavage, his tongue ran along the scantily clad lace of your bra. Staring up at you, he let out a mischievous snicker before his teeth snagged the cup and tore it from your chest—leaving it discarded on the ground.

“Shit… was fucking not enough? Had to ruin my clothes too,” you complained as your hips bucked against his pointedly. This earned a guttural grunt from the flesh of your breasts, as he heaved out a response. “You’ll forget about them anyway,” he dismissed as he continued until your panties were the last to be removed. The cool air dusted your wet cunt—its arousal seeping through your folds like honey. Its chill made you shiver and like bees to nectar, his tongue feasted before his eyes.

Hoisting you up, your thighs rested against his shoulders as he knelt, the angle allowing his tongue to slip inside your already spasming pussy. An unusual pink hue dusted his cheek as he stared up at you in utter bliss. Your fingers dug into his forearms, your puffy folds pressed against his lips as he devoured you. With your head resting against the wall, your hips ground themselves relentlessly against his tongue.

"Mmm, shit, already soaking wet for me," he taunted, pumping his tongue in and out of your tight cunt. His tongue—rough and textured—lashed out to lap at your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His groans sent mild vibrations through you as his fingers reached up to paw at your tits, nipples stiffened in the cold air. You couldn't help but moan as he ate you out with relentless intensity, his tongue plunging deep into your folds. His calloused hands roamed your exposed flesh, pinching and kneading your breasts, twisting your sensitive nipples until they grew numb.

His hands couldn't stop their exploration—they explored what he had lost many years ago. Sparks flew as his tongue circled against your clit, flickering the bundle of nerves with a speed inexperienced before. Every time you neared the precipice of your orgasm, his tongue would flatten as he sucked your clit—ruining the rhythm. You tugged his hair with a frustrated groan, and his eyes rolled into his skull with an amused moan.

Finally pulling away, he stood to his feet. His lips parted to speak when suddenly, “Hurry the fuck up,” you said curtly with exasperated gasps. With lidded eyes, a Cheshire grin settled across his features. “Yes, ma’am.” Prying his suit off, he palmed his dampening erection. For once he fell silent as anticipation ate away at you both. As he freed his cock from the confinement of his boxers, it slapped against his lower abdomen.

It stood with a veiny girth—the tip kissed a rosy red like his many mistresses' lipsticks. With a pleased hiss, he stroked himself briefly—eyes just barely losing focus from the buildup before he plunged himself into you. Your pussy hugged him with a familiarity that felt like home, the painful stretch soon becoming one of bliss. His hips began to quicken, wanting to see your fucked-out expression like never before.

However, his greed overwhelmed him as the stimulation grew difficult to ignore. His usual grunts and growls diluted into groans and profanities. The alleyway echoed with the cacophony of moans that mingled in the air—inharmonious, yet emotion-filled as a flame flickered within your core. “I’ve waited so fucking long for this,” he grunted, a grin etched into his lips. “N-None of them—no ssslut compares to this. Only pussy I need—only woman I want.” A groan interrupted his sentence as your cunt contracted around him—swallowing him at the base.

That’s right—every harem formed and woman fucked was so he could ruin the image of you that plagued his mind in its grief. The vulnerability of it all made your toes curl, even if it wasn't much.

The fingers pawing at your breasts began kneading them like stress balls, until they were red. Truthfully, he missed every inch of you—not that he would admit that, especially since you weren’t exactly his. A high-pitched moan ripped from your throat as he continued to bounce you on his dick. Pre-cum coated your insides as the sounds of arousal grew louder, his balls tightening. With every thrust, he could see the air physically leave you, the scuff marks from brick marking your skin.

He could barely tell where to focus his eyes—on your tits or face? Both were gorgeous but fuck, he should just kidnap you and take you home with him, right? “Fuuuuck, Mark… I’m g-go—” you groaned as your fingernails indented into his skin, a pain and pleasure-filled gasp crawling from his throat. “Fuck, yeah…” he said, his raspy voice cracking with the slightest whine. “Take it… s-shit, take it…!” It was a growl as his eyes fluttered shut to hide his eyes practically rolling around his skull. With a clenched jaw, his dick began to milk itself. The pleasure mounted as your impending orgasm washed your body in a sweat-breaking heat. Just as he came, your cunt spasmed, once he pulled out, something within snapped as an aroused gush squirted from you.

His groin was now coated in your scent, taste, and the result of your rough fucking. The pleasure racked your brain as tears threatened to spill over. Noticing this—and pleased with his efforts—he let out a short chortle, a hand coming up to swipe your folds and have a final taste. His expression turned into a feigned sob as he silently teased—his tip running a line between your folds and ass, resisting the temptation to fill your asshole with his seed. Once you two were settled from your high, he spoke up. “Had fun, babe.” Your eyebrow lifted at the newly coined pet name.

Suddenly, a muffled voice in his ear caught his attention. “Shit…” he muttered with an annoyed grimace at Angstrom ruining his amusement. “Go on,” you beckoned. “Not yours anyway—so no need to stick around.” It was a light jab—one he received with a satisfied smirk before taking flight. “Doesn’t matter—I’ll be back,” he replied curtly before disappearing into the horizon.

You stood there—naked—processing what just happened. "Shit, I need a new suit from my apartment.”

Variant #17 Mark (I wouldn't even keep you as a slave in my Empire!) Or Sinister Mark (personalities are similar in the comics, so imagine what you will.)

"You thought you could hide from me?" he said, peering down at you with a friendly grin for someone so domineering. Staring down at the man’s shadow, his cape billowed in the wind. Unlike the other Marks you’d caught a glimpse of, this one barely had a bruise on him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he finished before he landed softly on the ground. As he approached, you remained still, eyebrows creasing into a frown. “I’m not—” You were abruptly cut off by a low voice as his head tilted to stare into your eyes. “Don’t play stupid. My version of you had the same power—but she resisted our cause.” His voice was tinged with pity as he frowned; he decided to take another route in his approach.

“I’ll tell you what—I’ll leave if you come with me,” he offered with an outstretched palm. You vehemently shook your head in disagreement. “I’m not going—it'll disrupt the timeline.”

“Why does that matter?” he asked.

“What makes you think I won't resist either…?” you retorted, causing his eyebrows to raise slightly in thought. “I’ll change your mind—and give you what you missed out on in my world.” It was such a matter-of-fact opinion—one rooted in a determination to outclass any obstacle that might deter him. Curiosity bested you the moment you turned to face the chaos erupting in the streets as a strong gust of wind obscured the debris. He was behind you. His fingers draped over your waist as he took flight—and to… your apartment? “I’ve been watching you for a while now… I know all about your preferences. Let’s have some fun, shall we?” His lips just barely grazed your ear.

Amongst the hands that roamed your body, a sense of longing lingered in every squeeze and grope. While being one of the strongest—and surely the most vile—his personality could be charming like your dimension’s Mark. Even if feigned for manipulation. He spun you around to face him, that polite smile etched into his face again as his body betrayed innocence. The erection forming within his costume became difficult to ignore—but he found a distraction. A touch, a handhold, and finally—a kiss.

“Let me show you what it's truly like to be satisfied.” His words were reassuring, yet they felt more directed toward his version of you rather than now. His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling itself in a wet heat as he sucked the air from your lungs. The warmth of his fingers spread across your cheek as his tongue attempted to delve impossibly deep. The taste was better than you imagined—not that you expected any less. If anything, finding him in a forgiving mood proved to be favorable.

His fingers shifted from your face to the back of your costume—in his attempt to be gentle, he tore the cloth from your body like tissue paper. In an instant, his costume was discarded in the corner, leaving him in snug boxers that hugged his dick. Before you knew it, you were pinned against the bed—a hand flush against your throat as he shrugged slightly. “Didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said, an amused huff exiting his nose as you exchanged knowing glances.

The remaining hand gently pried the panties from around your hips and down the length of your legs. His eyes fell upon the wet patch that seeped through the thin fabric—as the semblance of a pleased grin stretched across his lips. Focusing his attention once more, his fingers slowly parted your folds, watching as your velvety walls peeked through the slit. Its warm flesh was inviting—something he had yet to try since you retaliated so often against him at home. Just why couldn’t you be this welcoming? So willing to be corrupted? So… morally gray at the least.

Pressing two digits inside your warmth, he watched it conform to the size of his fingers. An obvious shiver ran through him with each moan that vibrated from your throat—as he imagined you hugging him and wrapped around his cock in plea. The sensations set your skin alight with gooseflesh—and each time you attempted to scurry away from his gift, the hold around your neck tightened ever so slightly. He was such a brat.

Your hips ground into his hand, clit colliding with his palm in gentle waves. As his fingers slowly retracted, his cock shyly peeked from the pocket of his boxers. His patience was running thin as he adjusted himself at your entrance—and slowly pushed through. A loud sigh escaped his lips as he bottomed out, his head falling backward as he quietly cursed under his breath. Mirroring his restlessness, your foot hooked around his lower back and pressed him deeper. A drawn-out moan echoed from your throat; he was barely holding on as he gnawed at his lip to contain himself. Reflexively, his hips stuttered before setting a relentless pace—pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that hit all the right spots.

“Already so wet for me… pathetic. Fucking slut.” His words struck a nerve within—as you repulsively tightened around him, earning a whine. Your moans echoed through the room, mingling with the slap of skin against skin and Mark's grunts of pleasure. He hammered into you like a man possessed—his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he drove you toward climax.

The long thrusts stimulated every inch of his dick—the veins kissed with every grip of your cunt. “Did your version of me not do it for you?” you teased before taking a sharp breath at his relentless pace. “Y-You really don’t know when to be quiet,” he gritted. “But n-no… not like this. You're much better. I would take you to be a part of my empire.” He replied, his jaw tightening as his hips drilled into you with renewed conviction at the thought. A second you—not the one he’s attempting to keep as a slave for disobeying—but one he could trust to blindly follow his power. His grin grew wolfish as his other hand overlapped your throat—his gaze shifting between your bouncing tits and pleasured face.

The slight closure of your windpipe didn’t allow for much noise—but no matter, Mark began to sing like you’d never imagine. It was strange—the sound was much louder due to your silence as you clawed at his skin. His voice began to crack as his tightened jaw began to slack. "F—fucking incredible," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "I knew… you'd be worth every s-second of c-...chasing you down," he sputtered as his length began to twitch inside you.

Seeing someone as strong as him unravel before you was a greater sense of accomplishment than becoming a hero itself. With a closed-lip groan, he began overstimulating himself with the effort to get you off. “Haaa… I’m c-close. Ugh…!” you muttered through strangled gasps—as the deprivation of air made you lightheaded and sensitive. Every nerve ending inside your cunt doubled as you went taut beneath him. “C’mon, fucking cum for me,” he heaved.

His thrusts became sloppy as he came inside without warning—doubling over as a consequence. An unfamiliar sensation painted your insides. You both saw stars as silence pierced the room—the slick produced coated his cock in a glaze. Through bated breaths, his fingers finally released their grip around you as you coughed out a response. “I have to admit… you’re hard to deny,” you said, momentarily spent as you lay before him. “Swee—” He was cut off by a voice in his ear.

It was Angstrom demanding his presence over the city. “What a nuisance,” were the final words you caught as he muttered under his breath. Every version of Angstrom was a hindrance to this Mark—nonetheless, he suited up to leave. “I’ll return—and you will join me,” he said confidently, as if there was no argument to be made. You nodded absentmindedly and sighed. Just what had you done?

No Goggles Mark

“Dude…! You’re so cool—what is that? I’ve never seen any powers like that in my world,” he said with an amused expression as he snickered at your agony. You stared up at him, your heartbeat suddenly quickening when meeting his gaze. A look of recognition flickered within his eyes. “Hey, I know you,” he said, his feet touching base on the ground as he approached you with a widening grin. “I’m not sure you know me exactly…” you replied, backing away as your eyes searched for a route to escape—his friendliness had truly taken you aback.

“Who do you work for?” he asked, words flying from his mouth without a care as he approached closer. “You're way stronger than the Guardians of the Globe dudes I fought.” He fought who?! A sense of dread filled you as a new series of questions plagued your mind. If this one could ruin the team to filth—then just how strong was he, and what exactly did he want? “I don't want to fight you, man,” you somewhat pleaded; he frowned with disapproval. “Fight? No, man… but it seems like you’re in trouble, dude.” The topic switched again—his gaze now behind you—as a flurry of aliens attempting their takeover waltzed through a portal. You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was a failed crusade before it began.

Taking a stride forward, a strong arm suddenly wrapped around your waist as you two were propelled to a lone-standing structure where steel beams and concrete floors remained. “Put me down,” you bruised him as you backhanded him into the metal beam. While he had a smile on his face, momentary irritation settled across his features. The painful sting ran to his cock. “Aw, what's the matter?” he asked, standing to his feet as you both came face to face once more.

“It would be hot, but I don't want to fight, dude. I’ve missed you. I promise I’ll be gentle… at first.” The delivery was more seductive—dropping an octave—as he approached you, hands outstretched and finding purchase against your hips. One thing other variants wouldn’t admit—was the supple touch of the right woman could caress their soul.

“I’m not the me you want,” you replied. “You can just be the one I have anyway,” he said. He was indeed serious—and while less terrifying than the other Marks you’d encountered, his strength was menacing nonetheless. “Then let’s see what other talents you’ve got.” Your response made his expression brighten with a new goal in mind. At that, the grin on his face widened as he leaned down and captured your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss.

His tongue forced its way into your mouth, battling yours for dominance as he ground his hips against yours. You two stumbled around the enclosure—footsteps echoing in the empty building. Mark’s hands cupped your ass, squeezing roughly as he whispered crude compliments into your ear. "Nice ass," he growled appreciatively, his fingers caressing the soft flesh. He couldn’t articulate it well—but you were truly beautiful in every universe—and he couldn’t wait to have his share.

Your fingers traveled up his muscled back as body heat pooled across your fingertips. Eagerness unlike any other began to rise as you longed to touch every inch of him. Hero costumes were peeled from one another, and you found his groping becoming progressively obsessive. His hardened cock stood awaiting stimulation as he bit back his urges—sacrificing the time to feel you once more.

Guiding him to the floor, you seated yourself against his lap—your legs hooked over his forearms. He was always too quick to finish battles, and that even applied to sex. Just the tip. That's what you two agreed upon. Sinking onto his cock—its girth filled you deliciously. The wet sound of arousal followed by his restrained groans filled you with delight; it was amusing to see a Viltrumite struggle to contain himself.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… and 6! On every sixth shallow thrust, you would contract your muscles—gripping his dick like a vice as every vein received a kiss from the gods inside your cunt. It had him crazed—wanting more of your warmth than you were willing to give. “F—fuck, babe, you’re killin’ me,” he hissed with an unforeseen weariness shaking his voice. “Can I?” he started. “No.” His expression hardened at your words. “You’re ruining the—” Before he could finish, he inhaled sharply as his head fell back. “Am I…?” you asked with feigned curiosity. It was undulating in a rhythm that drove him wild. He groaned beneath you—his hands digging into his palms as he fought his urges to misbehave.

The sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis filled the air—mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. Anything would be worth trading; he could watch his dick disappear within your cunt nonstop. His impending release redoubled his efforts—pounding into you with a ferocity that sent you hurtling over the edge.

The excitement overwhelmed him as he sheathed half his cock inside—the spreading warmth and moisture making his thighs quiver beneath you. His balls tightened, painfully so—that alone ripped a pornographic moan from him. If he could fuck you as desired, he wouldn’t be nearly as needy. Your combined moans echoed through the infrastructure—and you were certain that with the windows gone, someone could hear—but the thought was out of sight and out of mind. Pre-cum beaded down his length as it was smeared each time he entered your warmth. “M-Mark…” you muttered; he nodded fervently behind you as his jaw locked.

“Y-You ready for it, babe?" he asked with a faltering grin as sweat tickled his brows. Leaning your full body weight against him—you felt your orgasm building quickly. The pleasure reached new heights as you both milked each other dry for the sake of proving a point. Your body instinctively began to lurch forward as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. The tip of his cock was bedecked with a foam ring of cum. Mark would’ve begun convulsing had it not been for him carrying you—instead, his body stiffened as he let out a tight-lipped groan. You could’ve sworn you saw his toes curl too—but who knows? His pale skin was flushed a hue of red as his body thrummed with an aftershock.

Once you’d come down from your high, a satisfied grin beamed at you. "Dude, that was incredible," he murmured, a satisfied grin on his face. "We should do this again sometime," he said—as if this was some casual fling, not that you would mind.

Before you could respond, a message in his ear interrupted the conversation. “Ugh… this always happens; I have fun, and then—dude…” he sounded exasperated as he hurriedly redressed—reluctantly wishing you a botched farewell. “I like you. You’re coming with me.”

Feel free to request more lmao

“Since you asked so nicely.” He lifted you up just enough to align his cock to your puckered, twitching hole, rolling his hips upwards just enough to feel the tight ring of muscle start to stretch.

“H- Hhn,” your breath hitched as his dick sunk inside that velvet heat inch by inch.

“Fucking shit..” he suddenly groaned.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hiding your face against his neck. You lift your hips and slowly start to bounce on his cock.

“Mmh, Mark..” you moaned, warm breath tickling his skin.

His hips buck upward, meeting your descent with a sharp slap of flesh against flesh. “You feel.. so good. Just like that.”

One of his hands treks down to your ass, gripping it roughly as he uses your flesh to guide your movements—forcing you to take more of his cock with each grind downward.

“N- Nnghh— aah,” you whimper, biting down on his neck.

The squelches and slaps of skin echo through the room, punctuated by your moans and his grunts.

With a sharp gasp, Sinister hilts deep inside you, his cock throbbing as it pumps hot, sticky semen into your ass. You almost yelp, roughly biting down on his flesh to which he yanks you off his lap.

“Ugh..” he clicks his tongue as he drags his fingertips over the deep marks on his neck. “Y’know.. biting is my thing.”

—

Sinister purred when you laid on your back, lifting both your legs up, knees bumping your shoulders—practically folded in half.

He's still rock hard, not a single sign of him softening after his first orgasm. And the new angle allows him to sink even deeper into you.

You feel so incredibly full, stuffed to the brim with his pulsing cock.

He starts to roll his hips, sawing his thick shaft in and out of your stretched, slick hole.

“A- Aahh— Maaark!”

“What would, ngh, your Mark think if he saw you like this?”

“D- Don’t talk about him right now!”

He snickered lowly as angled his hips, hitting your prostate inside dead on.

“Mmmhh—“ You whined loudly, eyes glazed over.

Sinister pulls out slooowly then slams his cock back in with sharp thrusts.

Your noises got louder—panting, gasping, moaning. You weren’t even trying to hide your pleasure.

The creaking of the bed frame fills the room as he fucks into you wildly. His heavy balls slap against your ass with each vicious thrust.

“Aah! U- Uuuf.. ohhh, Mark!!”

You were practically seeing stars—nothing has ever felt this good before. “I- I need to— mmphh, cum.”

You let out shaky pants, eyebrows knitting together in overwhelming sensation, legs starting to shiver. “Fuckfuck…”

Sinister groaned at the sight.

He reaches down with his free hand, finding your dripping erection. He wraps his fingers around it roughly, stroking you in time with his thrusts. His thumb swipes over the sensitive head, smearing the leaking precum around.

“Cum for me. Don’t try to hold it in.”

With a deep, final thrust, he slams into you and grinds against your prostate. His hand squeezes your throbbing cock.

Your entire body seizes up, hole fluttering and clenching around him as you came—cum spurting from your aching dick in thin rivulets.

“S- Shit, Mark!” You practically yelp, looking up at him with the most pathetic eyes he’s ever seen. More pathetic than the many people he’s killed.

He lets your legs down and scoots back a few inches. “You good?”

“Uh, mhm.” You nod, slowly moving to sit up.

“Wait.”

“..What?”

“I want to keep fucking you.”

You blink slowly.

“..Please?” He tilts his head slightly.

You let out a heavy sigh and lay back down.

—

His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back against him.

He admires the new view—your ass sticking up for him, your back arched, your body slightly trembling in anticipation.

He spits into his palm, rubbing the slickness over his still-hard cock before pressing the thick head against your hole.

“You’re still so tight,” he grunts, pushing forward just enough to make you gasp.

His free hand slides up your spine, gripping the back of your neck as he leans over you. “Your Mark is going to wonder why you’re stumbling around tomorrow.”

With a sharp thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his hips slapping against your ass with an obscene plop plop plop.

His grip on your neck tightens, forcing you to arch deeper.

“F- Fuck—wait! It feels s-s’good!”

Sinister grins at your words, his thrusts becoming more brutal that your body starts to jolt forward with each time your skin meets with his.

He leans down, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. You let out a sharp whine in response.

Your fucked-out face pressed against a pillow covered in your drool. The pleasure is so deep that it borders on painful, your ass clenches around Sinister’s thrusts until the bed is soaked beneath you, your cum spurting and dribbling from your cock.

You draw out another moan.

He fucks you through your orgasm, pace faltering just a little as he fights his own release.

“Nngh..” He pulls out at the last second, jerking himself off until he spills across your ass and lower back in hot, heavy pulses, the mess sliding down your warm skin. A breathy curse slips from his mouth.

—

The scent of sex and sweat lingers in the air between you, a thick reminder of what just happened.

Sinister huffed as he laid back against pillows, watching as you hooked your bare leg over his hip, your chest almost fully on top of his.

You unconsciously sucked and nibbled at his neck as if it was second nature, your hand firmly holding his jaw on the other side.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and looked down at you with a satisfied, lazy grin, taking in the sight of his cum on the curve of your ass and the small of your back. His other hand treks down to trace through the mess, scooping some up with two fingers and pushing it back inside your fucked hole.

He’s not looking for another round just yet, but he likes the way you cling to him, the way you currently need him.

He shifts slightly, pressing his chest firmer against yours, enjoying the subtle contrast between your body and his. You murmured against the skin of neck and bit down harder when his fingers slipped inside.

“Yeah, that’s it..." he mumbles, his voice thick with post coital content. He can feel how sensitive you've become, the walls of your hole throbbing rhythmically around his fingers.

He slides a third finger in, stretching you wide again, his hand working with a steady kind of grace. He isn't exactly being gentle, but he isn't being brutal anymore either. It’s a slow, possessive kneading.

“Mmm..” you whine quietly.

And suddenly the door slowly opens—

Mark’s voice was soft, like he expected you to be asleep when he walked in.

“I know it’s late and I shouldn’t have broken in, but—”

He cut himself off at the sight of Sinister fingering you.

You were supposed to tell him as soon as you saw the guy. You were supposed to tell him if something was wrong. You were supposed to—

The one thing you weren’t supposed to do was hide the fact you were keeping Sinister at home and fucking him behind Mark’s back.

“..What the hell is this?” Mark stares in disbelief.

Sinister’s body stiffens under you, but he doesn't make an effort to cover you or move away in shame.

Instead, he slowly drags his fingers out of your slick, gaping hole with a wet sound that echoes in the sudden silence.

He looks the doorway, his eyes meeting his own—well, Mark’s wide, horrified gaze. Rather than looking guilty, he looks incredibly annoyed, his brows furrowing as if his intrusion has ruined a perfectly good moment.

“I asked a question.”

Mark’s hands clench into tight fists. His eyes flicker to your nude, sweaty body draped over Sinister’s, then back up to his irritated glare.

He gave Mark a cocky smirk. "What? You caught us post fuck." His voice was lacking even a hint of apology. “Don’t look so shocked, it was bound to happen with me and him.”

“You’re serious.”

It’s not even a question.

Everything that made sense five minutes ago—everything that felt intense, confusing, impossible to untangle—suddenly feels a lot more real under his gaze.

You push yourself up slightly, finally aware of how this looks.

Of what it is.

“…Mark, I—”

“You lied to me.” He cuts you off, sharp.

“I asked you,” he continues, taking a slow step closer. “More than once. If something was wrong. If he came back. And you just—what? Kept him here behind my back!?”

You don’t have an answer. An honest one at least.

His jaw tightens.

“How long has this been going on?”

You’re silent again.

And that’s your answer.

Mark lets out a sharp, disbelieving breath, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to wake himself up from a bad dream. “This is messed up. This is really messed up.”

You nod hesitantly. “I know.”

“But you still did it.”

Not accusing.

Not even fully angry.

Just hurt.

“I didn’t know how to tell you..”

“You could’ve started with anything,” Mark snaps, the frustration finally coming through. “Instead of—this!”

Sinister sits up slightly, gaze fixed on Mark. “He wasn’t going to tell you.”

You tense up even more. “Stop it—“

Mark’s eyes snap to him. “Don’t speak for him.”

“I don’t have to,” Sinister replies. “He already made his choice.”

“Dude,” Mark says, looking back at you, “this is him. The guy who literally kidnapped you. The guy we’re supposed to be stopping. And you—”

He gestures helplessly, like he can’t even comprehend the thought.

Your chest tightens. “I- It’s.. not that simple.”

That stops him for a moment.

“No, no, you’re right! I get it, you’re choosing him.” Mark spat out sarcastically, disbelief bleeding into every word.

You flinch.

And that says everything it needs to.

Mark laughs once. “Wow.”

Sinister doesn’t look surprised at all. If anything, he looks satisfied, still completely unapologetic. “Told you.”

“I trusted you,” he says.

You swallow, your voice quieter now. “I know.”

“Did you?” Mark asks. “Because it really doesn’t feel like it.”

He takes a few small steps back. Like he needs distance before he says something worse.

“I need a minute,” he mutters, more to himself than either of you, slowly turning around. “We’re talking about this later.”

Then he’s gone.

And the room feels colder without him.

“He’ll come back,” Sinister says. “I would know.”

You’re caught between the person you’ve always known and the one who refuses to let you go.

But no matter what happens next, you’ve already crossed the line.

And there’s no going back from it now.

“…Shit.”

“She’s gonna be okay, kid,” Cecil said, walking into the room as the sliding door closed behind him.

“What if they find this place? I don’t want to lose anyone else.” Mark said, his eyebrows frowning as he stood beside Eve’s hospital bed. They encountered two variants on the field. One had worn a hood and was cocky and hot-headed, and the other was eerily similar to his father, same costume, mannerisms, and attitude. It was uncanny.

Mark told Eve to leave, but she didn’t. Her leg got snapped, and her body slammed into the concrete by the Omni variant. Now, she lies unconscious on the bed, hooked to a machine to keep her stabilized.

“They won’t, but we have more pressing matters. If you would follow me.” Cecil stated, leaving the room. Mark looked at Eve’s unconscious body before turning to follow Cecil. She’ll be fine.

“How is it looking out there?” Mark asked.

“The situation is still dire at the moment. Countless cities lie in ruins, and the death toll is estimated in the millions. The good news is that most of the variants have been eliminated.” Cecil replied, opening the doors to the main control room. There were people glued to monitors, watching the events unfold on the screen, attempting to calculate the next moves and tactics.

“I’m assuming there is bad news as well?” Mark inquired, staring at the main screen in the center of the room. It displayed the global map with red dots, representing the surviving variants and their locations. Looked like eight out of eighteen remained, but they were still threats.

“Indeed. As you can see, eight variants survived, but three of them appear to be heading towards Chicago.” The map shifted over to the North American continent. Three red dots, one in Chicago and the other two in Los Angeles and New York City. “The other is coming from Paris. We don’t know why they’re congregating specifically in Chicago. Possibly a meet-up. If the trajectories are correct, the location appears to be in the suburbs.”

“Where exactly in the suburbs?” Mark asked, his voice faltering as a pit formed in his stomach at the implication. The people important to him were in the area. Debbie informed him that she was with Paul in a safe location. You messaged him about bunkering down while William went silent.

“Zoom in on the trajectory. Judging by your tone, someone important is out there.” Cecil said, but Mark didn’t respond; his eyes were glued to the massive screen. As the map zoomed closer to the estimated location, Mark felt his heart drop. Your street appeared.

“I have to go,” Mark said without explanation, but Cecil could tell what was driving the young man.

“Kid, wait!” Cecil couldn’t get a word in as Mark had already left the room. There’s no way he could take on four variants. Some of these variants have more experience and combative skill. He managed two variants, but that was with Eve, and she’s out of commission now. He’s gonna face double the amount. Resources are limited, and the new reanimen, created with the corpses of the fallen variants, are still being developed. Cecil could only sigh.

You were preparing to hide in the furthest section of the house in case those variants decide to pay a visit. You weren’t sure that would work since Mark has superhuman senses, and logic dictates that the impostors share them. Maybe you were delaying the inevitable, playing a game of cat and mouse. You were about to go when a voice grabbed your attention.

It was Mark’s voice, pleading and begging for you.

“Y/n? Are you there? P-please, I need help! I-I uh… ran into one of the variants! Please, Y/n! I’m hurt!” Mark’s voice called out to you, muffled by the wooden door, as he pleaded for you to come to him. You felt your nerves ease as Mark's voice relaxed your muscles. You sighed with relief as you approached the door, but something was off.

Something was itching inside you. There was something wrong with this situation; that voice felt wrong. It sounded like Mark, but there was a hint of malice, dark, and twisted intentions. Just when you thought everything was going to be okay, anxiety and panic shot through the roof. Stepping away from the door, you bolted down the hallway. Mark’s voice continued to call out.

“Y/n, are you there?” The worried, pleading tone dropped, replaced by a soft laugh and scoff. Your intuition proved right. There was a long, drawn silence before a loud crash echoed through the empty house and neighborhood.

“Man, I thought you would fall for that,” the fake Mark said. You could hear his footsteps stepping into the foyer. You slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle breathing, gradually moving away from the approaching variant. Mohawk glanced around the interior, same as the one from his universe. That means the same layout, and if his brain serves him correctly, there was a hiding spot. He remembers you showing him the cubby hole during his youth.

Mohawk weighs the options of playing around or going straight for you. He wanted to give you the false sense of security, but he was dead impatient.

“Playing a game of cat-and-mouse? The Y/n from my universe always lost. It's fun playing the predator. I get to pounce on you.” Mohawk said, a twisted grin on his face and a bulge forming in his tight suit. He could hear your muffled breathing and quiet footsteps. He began whistling, hands behind his head as if he were leisurely walking in the park.

Your heart beat peaked, breathing unstable, and adrenaline pumping through your veins as a strong hand grabbed your shoulder and pinned you against the wall. But it wasn’t a wall, it was the variant's chest. His hands came to rest on your hips as he pulled you closer to him. So many thoughts were rushing through your head that you couldn’t keep up. It ranged from ‘oh god I’m gonna die’ to ‘why am I being held like this?’

Turns out Mohawk was impatient.

“Found you,” Mohawk said with a twisted grin. He gleefully laughed as he won his reward. You remain frozen in his unnervingly tight embrace. You got a perfect view of the variant. He looked identical to Mark, but there were noticeable differences. This variant had a distinctive mohawk haircut. His suit was black and blue, a different design, and no mask. Dried blood soaked his uniform, giving him a more menacing appearance.

You could tell this one was unhinged. Not like the others weren’t, but this one was different.

“N-no, please! I—” Your begging was cut off by Mohawk leaning closer. Your train of thought collapsed as the variant began sniffing your hair and skin, his hands rubbing into your clothed skin. You could feel his heavy breathing, his lips touching and gliding over your neck—over your pulse.

“M’not gonna hurt you,” Mohawk muttered, his grip tightening. Strangely, your body went at ease. You exhaled the air trapped in your throat. Your hands crept up Mohawk’s chest; you could feel his defined body underneath your palms. Your mind said this wasn’t Mark, but your heart registered him as your boyfriend. This was confusing; it was shattering your perception.

“I don’t—” before you could finish, Mohawk pulled from your neck and kissed you.

The kiss was surprisingly soft. His lips molded with yours as he deepened it. His tongue pushed past your teeth—exploring your oral cavity. Mohawk's taste, lips, and technique are similar to your Mark's. Your eyes widened from the gesture, but this kiss was meant to disarm you, and it was working. You began melting from the kiss, moaning softly as Mohawk refused to pull back. Your arms even left his chest to wrap around his shoulders.

You admit to enjoying the kiss, but reality was setting in. You were kissing a deranged, psychotic version of your boyfriend. Kissing a mass murderer, an impostor who wore his face. Panicking, you tapped and pushed at Mohawk’s shoulders, signaling to let go—and to breathe. Mohawk did let go only to dive into your neck. He bit, licked, and sucked on your skin, leaving bruises and marks.

“Fuck… you taste the same, no, better than I could’ve imagined.” Mohawk murmurs, groaning into your neck. Your face was pulsating red now. Soft moans escaped your lips as Mohawk ravaged your neck while greedily grinding against your thigh. You could feel his hardening bulge, the same size and thickness as Mark's. There was a fluttering sensation in your stomach, blooming through your body as it began reacting to Mohawk’s ministrations.

“I’m sorry,” Mohawk whispered. The admission caught you off guard, but the variant continued whispering in fragmented confessions.

“W-what? W-why are you here?” You stammered, facepalming inwardly at your weak, cracking voice. There was a jarring silence. Mohawk’s grip loosens as he frees you from his firm grasp. You took the opportunity to back away, but the variant intertwined his hand with yours.

“You. I was promised you. He promised me.” Mohawk answered. He was vague on who was behind the promise, but an educated guess would be that this unknown man is responsible for the global crisis that unfolded.

“Who exactly gave you that promise? A-and why me? What happened to me from your universe?!” You demanded to know, even though you were in no position to demand answers. Mohawk didn’t appear offended or have the urge to pop your head off. Instead, a somber expression fell on his face, and he finally spoke.

“I killed you,” Mohawk replied in a quiet voice. Your stomach dropped from the confession. You expected it, but you were still surprised. “I thought you were a weakness, like everyone else. So, I killed you for fun; I made a little game. I’ve come to regret that mistake.” The silence was palpable.

“That sounds like a pretty hefty mistake.” Before Mohawk could reply, there was another explosion outside. You yelped as the windows shattered from the impact and shockwave. Mohawk grunted, pulling you beside him as footsteps approached. A figure turned the corner. It was another variant. This one wore the same uniform as the Viltrumite woman with the Empire’s insignia on his shoulders.

“Great, another one.” You mumbled, laughing to cover up your sobbing and whining, as now you were stuck in the middle between two variants. Viltrum’s eyes landed on you, completely ignoring Mohawk’s presence and touch.

“Y/n… It's really you…” Viltrum muttered, stepping closer to you and Mohawk. His hardened, stoic features softened, light and life returning to his dull eyes. Heavy emotions were crushing Viltrum, something he’s suppressed for years. He finally gets to see you again. The familiar warmth and fluttering feeling filled his body, overwhelming his senses. His voice shattered that moment.

“Wow, wow, finders keepers, soldier boy. I got to him first!” Mohawk snarled, letting go of your wrist to size up the new arrival. Viltrum’s expression hardens as he crosses his arms. Mohawk pushes him back, his feet screeching against the hard wooden floor. Mohawk would be damned if anybody tried to take you from him after everything he went through and did for you. Soldier boy wasn’t going to lay a finger on you.

While they were distracted, you took the opportunity to sneak away. Surely they wouldn’t hear your quiet footsteps over their grunting and movements. The two variants were about to brawl when another crashed echo, ruining your chances to escape and catching the others' attention.

‘Another one?!’ you screamed internally.

The back door was busted open, and another variant walked through. This one costume was black and yellow, with black lenses, and a long yellow cape that draped over his shoulders. There wasn’t anything different other than his costume and his noticeably paler skin tone. You could tell his gaze landed on you as a wicked grin spread on his face, but it dropped into a sneer when he noticed Mohawk and Viltrum.

“Tsk, pity. I thought you’d both be dead; then I would’ve claimed him without problems.” Sinister commented, taking a few strides towards you. Mohawk and Viltrum halted their infighting, their attention fully on the black-and-yellow variant. Their bodies tense as Mohawk dashes to you.

“Unfortunate really.” Sinister thought it would be a walk in the park, take you, and bring you back home, but apparently, others wanted a piece of you.

“This dimension was weak! Hardly put up a fight.” Mohawk mocked with Viltrum nodding in agreement. He wasn’t going to mention how this dimension’s Mark knocked him out.

“I made swift work of my opponents,” Viltrum added, his voice unnervingly cold and calm. The tension in the room heightened as the variants looked among each other, calculating potential attacks. The silence was heavy until a distinctive whoosh of flight sliced it, and a gust of wind knocked everybody onto the ground.

These variants were dropping like candy! They were attracted to you like a lion stalking its prey. Despite being from different dimensions and facing different circumstances and choices, you must have held some importance to them.

You were disoriented, groaning and moaning until someone hoisted you onto your feet. Your vision was blurry; you couldn’t make out the person in front of you. You blinked a few times until the figure was clearer. It was another variant; it must have flown through one of the blasted entrances.

Unlike the others, who had distinctive features and suits, this one looks identical to the original Mark. If both were side by side and wearing the same clothes, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

This variant had a mixture of sorrow and disbelief with a hint of relief. You noted this variant wasn’t wearing a mask, a piece of cloth that Mark always wore. You said nothing as Maskless bore his eyes into your skull, biting your lips with a weak smile. Suddenly, you were pulled into a tight embrace, strong arms wrapping around your mid-section, and his face was nuzzled into your hair.

Unlike Mohawk, Maskless was gentler and tender. Your heart skipped a beat; his touch was similar to your Mark. Then, he spoke, his voice soft and laced with worry and relief. “Y/n, it's been so long. I never thought I would see the day… you’re not hurt, are you? These savages didn’t hurt you?”

This was uncanny, looked identical to Mark, and acted like him. Maskless pulled away and cupped your cheek; your face turned red. The variants got up and glared at Maskless, with Mohawk being the first one to bark.

“You ain’t calling me a ‘savage,’ and he’s fine. Look at him.” Mohawk snapped, venom and possessiveness in his voice.

“I would like to believe that until I saw Upstate in ruins. You could’ve killed him!” Maskless barks back, unfazed and undeterred by Mohawk.

“Well… uh, he wasn’t there! And I got here first, which makes him mine! So, back the hell up!” Mohawk growled as he was about to punch Maskless’s head off. He wasn’t going to admit that Maskless was right. He was reckless and didn’t pay attention to those he killed. That changed when he saw William among the ruins and remembered that you attended the same university. He thought he killed you, but William confirmed you left campus.

“You don’t have the authority to claim him.” Viltrum bumps in, grabbing Mohawk and Maskless by their shoulder and pulling them away from you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! Y/n doesn’t belong to you—you don’t get to decide for him!” Maskless said, agreeing with Viltrum. While they continued to bicker, Sinister took the opportunity to come behind you, leaning down to your ear.

“You’re not as bold as the Y/n from my universe. Doesn’t matter, but I wonder if your flesh tastes the same.” Sinister pondered. A sadistic, twisted expression etched on his face. He licked his upper lip, curious about your flavor. You froze, and the argument among the other variants fell silent as you thought about what had happened to your alternate version.

“Y/n from my dimension put up a valiant fight, but I snuffed him out. Tore him apart, limb from limb, and kept his eyes to look at. Oh, and ate some of him.” You were gobsmacked. The others must have heard it as well because their infighting stopped and turned towards you. “However, after that, I felt empty. I refused to believe I was attracted to you; I chalked it up to being obsessed with you. I kept thinking about you. I’ve come to realize I made an error of judgment.”

“I– wha…” You stammer. “You killed and ATE me? And regret it?” Sinister nodded in confirmation, and guilt and regret washed over him. “So, I’m dead in all of your dimensions?” you asked. The remaining three nodded.

“My dad… k-killed my Y/n. He said you were an obstacle. I-I never stopped loving you after your death.” Maskless said, his voice wavering and breaking as the memory flooded his mind.

“I wanted Y/n as my mate. I wanted to save him from his mundane life, but he became a rebel when the empire arrived. He was executed.” Viltrum replied, his hardened expression faltering, as he took on a somber look. Everyone turned to Mohawk, awaiting his response.

“Mm? Oh, right… You already know, but I killed you and enjoyed it. Also, kinda created a harem of your lookalikes,” Mohawk replied. The variants gave Mohawk a weird look, agreeing amongst themselves that no other human could replace you, while you were shocked and intrigued.

“What? Are we forgetting that Bumblebee over there ate his? Mine isn’t that bad,” the variant defended.

You stayed silent. You were intrigued by the circumstances that led to your death in different dimensions. Maskless seemed the most reasonable, Viltrumite sounded reasonable, but he didn’t go into depth about what pushed you into rebellion, and Sinister and Mohawk honestly scare you. Fear aside, you were conflicted on how to feel. The four of them deeply care and want you.

You could only imagine the horrors or situations they experienced in their respective dimensions, but at the same time, they’re all mass murderers. They wreaked havoc on the world and possibly killed millions of people, blood staining their hands.

“So, do any of you regret what you’ve done?” you asked.

“I don’t regret it—I mean, I do regret the killing and destruction of half of Europe, but if I hadn’t, then I wouldn’t get to see you again,” Maskless replied with a heartfelt response, causing you to blush again; damn weak emotions. Viltrum agreed, somewhat agreeing with Maskless.

“Meh, I enjoyed what I was doing cause I knew you were at the end,” Mohawk replied, shrugging. Given how he’s been acting, you should’ve expected that response coming from him. And it wasn’t a surprise when Sinister agreed with him.

“You may not be the same Y/n from our dimensions, but that doesn’t matter. We get a second chance,” Viltrum spoke with the other variants, who nodded in agreement. Right, a second chance. Each of them wants you, but you’re Mark’s boyfriend: this dimension’s Mark. This complicates things. They seem solely focused on you and do not want to inflict harm on you again.

“Right, but… I’m in a committed relationship with Mark, this dimension’s Mark.” You said, and the mood shifted. Each of the variants had a murderous intent on their faces from hearing your Mark’s name. Feral behavior mixed with restrained jealousy and boiling anger. They weren’t going to tolerate that.

“He doesn’t deserve you! He left you all alone! You could’ve died from one of the others! One of them… think it was the one with no goggles, was going to do horrible things to you! He can’t protect, but I can! He failed you!” Maskless ranted. His soft, restrained demeanor turned into a maniacal and lovesick one. A crazed smile on his face as he approached you, reaching out to cup your cheeks. You were taken aback, but you shouldn’t be surprised; he was still an evil version of Mark.

“Hey, back off! If I’m not mistaken, finders keepers! He’s mine! I’ll kill all of you if I must.” Mohawk snarled, punching Maskless into the nearby wall, leaving a sizable hole. You yelped as the variant wraps his arm around your waist. The alliance between them was collapsing.

“Oh, I’d like to see you try. I’ve been itching for an actual fight.” Sinister said, cracking his neck and stretching his muscles.

“I’m far superior to you; you won’t stand a chance,” Viltrum grunted, preparing to launch himself at Mohawk. Mohawk barked bullshit at the other variant. The situation was deteriorating rapidly, but the scene was interrupted by another voice, Mark’s voice, your Mark.

“Y/n!” Mark yelled as he hovered over your home. He noticed a massive crater in the middle of the street, windows shattered, and cars overturned by a powerful shockwave. He would’ve come faster if Cecil hadn’t held him back. Mark was panic-stricken; he wasn’t sure what he was gonna do or react if he saw your corpse.

“Mark!” You yelled back, pulling the attention of the Marks. You were thinking of running out and meeting up with your Mark, but Sinister anticipated it. Either way, it's not like you’ll make it far with four superpowered variants.

“Ah, ah, you’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Sinister purrs, pulling you into his chest. His hands rested on your hips as your head was buried in his chest, nuzzling in his pectorals. The others weren’t gonna pay mind to the sight, focused on dealing with the original Mark. Still jealous though.

Mark heard your screaming, floating to the ground, and entered through the massive hole in the front. He didn’t have to go deeper when he saw three of his variants ready to kill him, and the other one had you against his chest. “Let go and leave him alone! Or I'll make you.” Mark growled.

“Aww, I’m so scared! I’ve been wanting a round two.” Mohawk mockingly said with a sadistic grin. He was gonna kick the original Mark so hard in the balls that they would rupture.

“You’re outnumbered. You don’t stand a chance.” Viltrum stated, his voice void of any emotions except fury. His gaze was stone cold, calculating, and heavy. He wasn’t going to let this dimension’s Mark interfere.

“Finally, coming to your senses that Y/n is more important?” Maskless said with a venomous sneer. If he were your boyfriend, your safety and well-being would be his number one priority. You’d be the safest person on Earth!

You couldn’t see what was going on, your face buried in Sinister’s pectorals, but it seemed like the situation was getting heated, like a nuclear explosion was about to go off. You had to do something! There was no way Mark stood a chance against four powerful versions of himself. You had to brainstorm, or Mark would be crushed into a meat pancake of skin and bones. Taking into consideration that the variants seem to listen to you—somewhat—you surmised a plan.

Using their obsession and desire to have you, you could make a demand to spare Mark. While they were violent, unhinged, and sadistic, they’re still capable of reason and negotiating, as long as it benefits them. What more could they want than you? In their eyes, you were the diamond they’d been searching for. They’ll listen to you, hopefully.

“Mark…” You mumbled, calling out to the variant. Sinister peered down, and before he said anything, you leaped forward. Smashing your lips against his, Sinister was bewildered but gave in, returning the kiss.

You squirmed in Sinister’s grasp, like Mohawk, it was surprisingly gentle, but it quickly became heated and needy. Sinister was feverishly devouring your mouth, his tongue overpowering yours, and his hands keeping you in place while groping your body.

Same as Mohawk, you hated how you were enjoying the kiss. Same as your Mark with his own special twist that you enjoy. Sinister was yearning, desperate to taste you, something he wanted to know without eating your body. Now that he’s got a taste, Sinister doesn’t want this to stop. His hands are rubbing your hips and rear, squeezing and pulling as he gives slow thrusts.

Your moans were drowned out as you grinded your body against Sinisters. He was grinding against you as well; you could feel his clothed erection pressing on yours. It felt the same length and thickness that your body craved. You were losing yourself, your body and mind melting without resistance, probably due to the lack of oxygen.

Mark and the variants paused, watching the scene before them. The variants threw death glares at Sinister, seething with jealousy. Mark, on the other hand, was appalled. He couldn’t formulate a thought, but his body was already reacting for him. His dick was chubbing up in his tight costume. Why was it hot watching his boyfriend being dominated by one of his variants?

Mark wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He was no stranger to watching other men fuck his boyfriend; he liked being a cuck. It was a massive turn-on for him; this was nothing different, but it was his variants. The same variants that wreaked havoc and killed millions across the world. Yet, he couldn’t help but get horny. Not exactly the right time.

Sinister pulled back, your breathing heavy and face flustered. He chuckles and smiles, a dark and feral one. He wants to hear your cries, wondering if it's the same as the Y/n from his dimension. The others’ presence, unfortunately, ruined his thoughts.

“Aww, come on! He gets a kiss, but I can’t?” Maskless commented, whining and pouting. He’s screaming that he’s more deserving and worthy.

“Unfair…” Viltrum grumbled, scoffing under his breath.

“Ha, speak for yourselves, I got my taste.” Mohawk boasts, brags, and taunts Maskless and Viltrum. Both variants roll their eyes, cursing Mohwk and Sinister.

“Was Y/n this much of a minx? Didn’t get much time with mine,” Sinister asked, spinning you to face the others. He grinds his bulge against your leg, foaming like a feral animal. His dick is throbbing to have sex with you. Viltrum wondered the same, as he didn’t get to experience his Y/n.

“Oh yeah, before I killed him, he would bounce on my dick like he was dying,” Mohawk said, licking his lips as he looked at your disheveled state. He could feel the blood rushing to his lower body. That was the same face you’d give him when he was balls deep inside you, lost in the throes of sex and lust.

“Yeah, same,” Maskless answered, his face flustered, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He reminisces about you riding him, bouncing on his dick, or pushing back to meet his thrusts. Viltrum remained silent as he observed, but he was feeling the same thing as the others: horny.

You had some rational thoughts left to propose a ceasefire between the variants and Mark, but it was spoiled when Mark launched himself at Mohawk.

“Stay away from him!” Mark yelled, landing a square shot on the variant's face. Your already ruined home—mainly the downstairs—shook for the third time, rubble and dust choking the air. Mohawk’s body flew a few houses down, and the two engaged in combat.

“No, wait! Fuck, shouldn’t you do something?!” you shrieked, turning to the other variants.

“Nope, let them fight, then we’ll take out who’s remaining,” Viltrum spoke with a firm voice; his face was indifferent. To him, it was better for the competition to kill or weaken each other. Maskless and Sinister backed Viltrum. It was weird how civilized they are despite wanting to kill each other.

“Just want to have you back,” Maskless muttered.

“Eh, I couldn't care less. Now, how about we continue?” Sinister whisper, leaning into your shoulder. His teeth grazing your skin as he laces it with bites.

You gasp softly, but groan in frustration. Despite the roughness, your body leaned into Sinister’s touch, begging for more. Viltrum and Maskless approached, and you could see the hunger and yearning in their eyes. Sinister didn’t oppose, probably cause he didn’t want to kill you accidentally.

“L-listen! Can you stop them for me? I… have something to say.” You begged Maskless and Viltrum, attempting to mask your flustered face with seriousness. The variants paused, weighing the options. The choice was obvious. You’re their weakness, so they conceded, launching themselves into the sky towards the brawling Marks.

A few minutes passed, and they returned with a bloodied Mohawk and Mark. Mohawk was bleeding from the nose with bruises on his cheek, and his costume was ripped, revealing his body underneath. The same could be said for Mark, although he didn’t look as bad as Mohawk, sporting some bruises and scars. Mark wanted to say something, but you shut him down.

“I… please, spare him.” Your request was simple, but it was met with disapproval and discontent. “If you spare him… I’ll uh…”

“Have sex with us?” Mohawk said with a shit-eating grin, finishing your sentence before you could. “And lover boy can watch. Show him that we’re better.” Your dick jumped at the suggestion. An orgy with four variants of Mark? That’s something you would sign up for, but a part of you was screaming no.

Mark didn’t say anything. Was he gonna watch four variants of himself fuck his boyfriend? That sounded hot as fuck. His dick sprang to life, causing him to squeeze his thighs to hide his erection. He should have voiced his disapproval, but he didn’t, and neither did you.

“Well, since no one is speaking up, let’s take this to your room.”

… (There’s no Markcest in this) …

Mark sat across from you and the others—the same chair where he watches other men fuck you, this time it was versions of himself. He was stripped of his clothing, his flaccid dick resting on his thigh, his nipples hardening from the cold air, and his chiseled body tightening. Mark previously wanted to avoid watching since it was bizarre to comprehend watching four clones of himself fucking his boyfriend, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

His once flaccid dick was slowly rising, blood pumping into the piece of flesh as he listened to your labor moans and breathing. You and the variants were naked as well; you were the center of their attention.

They touched and pulled at your body, wanting you to be closer to them. They worshipped you as if you were a delicate piece of porcelain—well, somewhat as the Mohawk and creepy, sadistic ones were rougher. The other two were gentler, albeit Mark could tell they were gonna descend into feral beasts. You can handle one Viltrumite, but can you handle four at once?

Sinister was behind you, occupying your right shoulder blade. He plastered bites and kisses on your skin, deep bites that caused some blood to seep through. You yelped, gasping as his canines pierced your skin barrier. His groans were muffled as he indulged in your blood, lapping and sucking the thick, metallic substance. One of his hands groped your pectorals, toying and flicking your nipple.

“Mmm, same flavor as my Y/n. Need more.” Sinister grunts, grinding his rock-hard dick against your ass. You could feel his heavy breathing and hear his moans pressing your ear. His ministrations were getting rougher as he greedily attempted to take possession. You chalked this up to his lack of experience with you from his dimension.

Parallel to Sinister, Viltrum occupied your left shoulder blade. Unlike his counterpart, he pressed soft kisses on your nape and shoulder. It was sloppy. His tongue lapped at the sweat forming on your skin, his mouth opened as he continued wetting your skin with his saliva. His fingers traced the middle of your back, kneading the flesh.

This is everything he could have wanted, besides sharing you with the others. He remembers having to breed with other humans and that vile woman. He wasn’t so gentle with them, regarding them as nothing more than a means of filling quotas. Viltrum remained silent as he basked in your body. His kisses slowly transitioned into bites, and sucking hickies on your neck, targeting the pressure points.

You couldn’t think when Maskless wrapped his lips around your cock. He kissed and worshipped your stomach before moving down to your crotch. The constant stimulation you were receiving from the variants caused your dick to pump and throb. Maskless eagerly sucked your dick, his tongue flicking your sensitive tip and swirling around your length.

His warm, wet mouth was expertly deepthroating you. His hand came to fondle your heavy balls, and the other massaged your thigh. You bit back a loud moan, but Mohawk protested otherwise. Mohawk was on the same side as Viltrum, in the front, but he was more focused on your pectorals, especially your nipples and ass.

“Ah, ah, ah! We all wanna hear you, especially him over there.” Mohawk growled before returning to your chest. Your eyes then moved to Mark; he was jerking off, slowly pumping his dick with long strokes. His mouth was agape, and his defined, chiselled body was glistening with sweat. You could see his balls fapping against his hand when he thrust into his fist. The sight was as stimulating as the variants’ abuse of your weak points.

You were dragged out of your daze when Sinister yanked your head back, gripping your hair as he smashed his lips against yours. Like the prior one, he dominated your mouth. While you were being suffocated, Mohawk’s hands groped and squeezed your ass cheek before journeying deeper. His fingers probed around your entrance, tracing the tight rim and poking inside.

You pulled back from Sinister’s kiss, your cries and moans echoing through the quiet house and neighborhood. It was too much, and you reached your climax, shooting your load down Maskless’s throat, who eagerly gulped it down. You glance down at Maskless. He was grinning as he swallowed, licking his lips and teeth. He got up from his position and pulled you into a kiss; you could taste the remains of your load on his tongue.

“Mmm, sweet, don’t you think? Tastes the same as I remembered.” Maskless said, pulling back as he felt the accomplishment of his action. You were the world in his dimension. He always made sure to bring you to multiple orgasms, and he was gonna do the same with you. There was much-needed time to catch up.

“Don’t think we’re done, babe,” Mohawk cooed, keeping his fingers near your puckered entrance. He tilted your head away from Maskless, examining your lips before licking the remnants of cum. “Mmm, it tastes sweet and somewhat bitter.”

“I think it's time we change the pace,” Viltrum stated, pushing you onto your knees. You came face-to-face with four identical dicks, all of them erected and throbbing, precum leaking from the slit. Your mouth was agape, tongue sticking out, and you were panting as you felt your body relax at the sight and aroma. This was a dream come true.

Similar to Mark’s dick, they were above-average size, but the shaft was thick—intimidatingly thick. Veins covered the shaft like a traceable roadmap, a prominent vein leading to the tip—something that was sensitive for Mark. You could see them pulsating. The head was swollen and broad, and a deep shade of red—a testament to their neglected needs. Precum glistened on the head, ribbons dripping.

Viltrum’s base was surrounded by a tight, trimmed patch of dark hair, while Mohawk’s and Sinister’s bases were messy but not thick bushes. Maskless’s patch was clean-shaven. Their balls were swollen and heavy, churning with thick loads that needed to be drained. You salivated, your lustful gaze switching between cocks.

Your brain short-circuited, succumbing to baser, primal sexual instinct. The reluctant, nervous feeling about having sex with Mark’s variants vanished, replaced with a feral need and desire. The main problem was which one to start with; all of their cocks were appealing. Doing eenie, meeny, miney, moe…

“Fuuuccckkk.” Viltrum cursed, letting out a guttural moan as he felt your tongue tracing his dick’s veins: Just as you suspected. Holding the base, you gave long licks, teasing the veins and cockhead. His precum touched your taste buds, tasted weird, an unfamiliar taste that you had never had. It was bearable though.

The others were displeased with your choice, wanting to be the first, but they’ll have a chance with your mouth.

After toying with Viltrum’s dick, you took it into your mouth. You moan from the thickness, stretching your oral cavity the deeper you swallow. Breathing through your nose and soothing your throat, you began bobbing up and down on his thick cock. You produced and gathered spit onto your tongue, lathering his length. You choked and coughed but pushed through, switching between sucking and stroking.

Viltrum was vocal, grunting and moaning as you sucked his dick. His eyes rolled back as it felt like you were sucking the life out of him. Your mouth was like a fleshy vibrator, tingling his dick in a good way. His hands came to your head, his fingers running through your hair and gripping it as he began to fuck your throat.

Mark bated his breath, groaning as he watched Viltrum use your mouth like his personal toy. He watched you begin stroking the others' dicks, arching your back, and eagerly taking them into your hands. He tips his head back, biting his lips as he squeezes his cock, preventing an early orgasm. His fist was coated with precum. His swollen tip was a shade of red, and his balls throbbed.

Mark still couldn’t believe something like this was happening. Out of all the possibilities that were running through his mind when this all started, he didn’t anticipate this: getting cucked by himself from other dimensions. Watching these variants have their way with you while he observes, naked and stroking his dick. Despite the unusual circumstances, Mark was enjoying this more than he expected.

“It's hard to believe we’re the same person. Pathetic.” Mark returned his attention to the voice; it was Sinister.

“Right? Fully expected him to fight, but nah. Guess he’s more interested in jerking off. What’s that word called?” Mohawk chimed in, laughing and joining Sinister in humiliating Mark while humping your hand.

“A cuck?” Maskless responded, grunting as he felt your hand move onto him.

“Yeah, that. Couldn’t be me. I’d rip any heads if someone tried th—” Mohawk’s sentence was cut off in a choke moan when you moved from Viltrum’s dick to his. He didn’t hold back and began to thrust his hips. “Fuck, babe.” Mohawk moans as your warm, wet mouth eagerly sucked his dick. His balls slapping against your chin, your slurping and gurgling becoming audible as drool seeps through your mouth.

“W-what’s… a cuck?” Viltrum asks, breathing heavily. He looked like a mess, his face sweaty and flustered. He wasn’t familiar with this term or its meaning.

“A cuck is someone who gets hard from watching his partner get fucked by another man. Prime example over there.” Sinister replied, pointing to Mark. Viltrum seemed to understand and agreed with Mohawk’s statement. Nobody touches what’s rightfully his.

Mark avoided eye contact, but the humiliation made his dick throb and leak more. They continued to poke fun at him. It was mainly Sinister and Mohawk who kept humiliating Mark, mocking and laughing at him. It appeared he was the only one who had a cuckold kink.

None of the others liked to share the same thing, boasting that they’ll kill anyone who’d do that. They were possessive of their Y/n to some degree. Maybe he wasn’t alone; the multiverse is expansive. Though the variants he ran into didn’t seem like the type to have a cuckold kink — maybe the one that wore Omni-man’s suit had a daddy kink? That would be ironic.

“T-think he’s the… fuck… only one: he’s an anomaly,” Maskless said, controlling his breathing as you moved to his dick. Like Viltrum, he was vocal, moaning and whining to his heart's content. It had been so long since he last had his dick sucked. After your death, he didn’t take another person; you were irreplaceable.

“He’s a pussy, makes sense,” Mohawk exclaimed, wanting Mark to hear him.

You switched between variants, going full circle. Making sure each one received a handjob or blowjob. You were breathless, your chest heaving, and your lungs sucked of oxygen—a burning sensation in your chest, but you admired your handiwork.

Their dicks were lathered with your saliva and their precum. Their glistening cocks stood tall and proud, almost an arrogant stance of their superiority and dominance. You could see the massive lengths throbbing and flinching, missing the warm cavern of your mouth.

A hunger overcame you, their cum. You wanted them to cum.

“Think it's time we prepare you for the main course, and by we, I mean me. I call dibs.” Mohawk asserted, leaving no room for protest as he assumed his position, lying flat on the floor and hoisting you over his body, your ass coming into his view. He was giggling, a dark and lustful giggle as he licked his lips at his early Christmas present before him.

“What are you—” You were cut off by a discernible slap followed by another. You gasped and moaned softly. Mohawk’s rough hands groped your cheeks before delivering another slap. He grinned as he watched the flesh jiggle and ripple from the impact.

“Don’t worry, babe. Go back to what you were doing. I got you. Oh, and arch your back for me?” Mohawk purred, returning his gaze to the grand prize. You nodded, following Mohawk’s word and continuing to suck and stroke the other Marks and arching your back to give Mohawk more ass to deal with.

Pulling you closer, Mohawk marveled at your ass. It was thick. Thicker and bigger than the Y/n from his dimension. He was salivating, foaming as he groped and squeezed your cheeks. His fingers are digging into your flesh, clawing at the skin. You must have been working your ass out; it was firm but soft to the touch.

‘That lucky bastard.’ Mohawk cursed the original Mark, jealousy evident on his face. That bastard had a hot piece of ass on his boyfriend and wasn’t making use of him? If he were your boyfriend, he would’ve been worshipping your ass every day—screw the countless lives that depend on him. He would have you on his dick 24/7.

Mohawk spread your ass cheeks wide open, revealing your tight, puckered asshole. He could see the tight ring of muscle pulsing. It beckoned him to move forward. Extending his tongue, Mohawk pressed it against your hole, hungrily lapping at the ring. He blew against your hole, smirking as it twitched before deliberately licking again.

“Mmmm!” You moaned with a mouthful of cock, one of the variants groaning from above.

Mohawk smirks as he begins to press sloppy kisses, hearing your muffled moans. A surge of pride and satisfaction filled him as he switched between the two methods. Your asshole was now sloppy, coated with his spit, but he wasn’t done. He wanted to enjoy a couple more minutes.

You felt tapping on your hips. Releasing the cock from your mouth, you looked over your shoulder.

“Now go on, sit on me.” Mohawk urged. He didn’t elaborate further, but you can detect the feral, hungry tone. He wanted to be buried between your cheeks. Biting your bottom lip, you gave him what he wanted, moving and hovering over his face so you could smush your ass against him. A whimper escaped your lips as his tongue penetrated your asshole.

Mohawk’s groans were muffled as he feasted on your ass. His hands slapped your cheeks as he forced your full weight on him. There was a faint, sloppy, and squelching sound; he was munching on you. He fucked your ass with his tongue. This was heaven.

While Mohawk was enjoying and preparing your ass, the other variants continued to use your mouth. They were getting more vigorous with you. By this time, your jaw was hurting, aching from being used by the Marks. You were gonna push through it though, you could taste the fruits of effort as their cocks throbbing and notice more leakage, hear their breathing becoming labored, and hear them hitching. Your neglected cock was on the verge of another orgasm—another from just sucking.

“F-fuuuccckkk… gonna cum…” Maskless cried, gripping your head and thrusting into your mouth with force. His head tipped back, and his eyes rolled back. He roared, slamming your head into his crotch and holding it there. His heavy balls rested against your chin, pumping as the first shots hit the back of your throat.

Maskless’s body tenses as this was the first orgasm he had had in months. Your cheeks hollowed as you tried to keep up, instinctively gulping his load. The taste was strong, musky, and sweet: A unique flavor. Another and another wad of his thick, creamy load burst into your mouth as you worked overtime to keep it from leaking.

Yours and Maskless moans mixed—further stimulating the variant. It felt endless. Some dribbled past your lips, soaking the ground underneath.

“T-Taking it so good… o-oh god.” Maskless whines, his hips jerking before relaxing as the last spurts weakened. You pulled back with a wet plop, giving Maskless’s cock a few licks and sucking on the tip to clean it, earning a weak moan. There was a web of spit and cum connecting your mouth to his tip; the sight was erotic.

You caught a glimpse of Maskless’s disheveled and sweaty face. He was panting, mouth agape as he returned your gaze. His brown eyes showed he was satiated, but still hungered for more. He had that glint in his eyes, the same glint Mark would give when he wasn’t done, and that it was only the beginning. That Viltrumite stamina was a force to be reckoned with.

“Alright, my turn.” Sinister interrupts, giving you no chance to recover as he yanks you over to him and Viltrum. Instead of using your mouth, Sinister and Viltrum crowded you, stroking their cocks over you. Your eyes twinkled. You were going to be covered with their hot, thick seed.

“G-gonna cum, love…” Viltrum groans, slapping his heavy cock against your face. The precum and saliva left a trail on your cheek, and the tip poked your right eye. Sinister followed the same path as Viltrum, but would sometimes ram his dick into your mouth, grinning as you choked and coughed on his dick.

“Keep your head like that.” Sinister grunts, his free hand lifts your chin. The variant didn’t need to say anything; you can tell what was coming next. You stuck your tongue out and waited, your cock throbbing and balls tightening. Their grunts filled the room, dicks and balls throbbing as ropes of thick cum spurted from the tips.

You gasped as your face was painted with their cum. Same as Maskless, they were releasing gallons of cum. Cum coated your face, and some landed in your hair. Sinister and Viltrum thrust into their fists, milking the last droplets before settling. Some landed in your mouth, but the majority landed on your face.

On the other side of the room, Mark gave a few more thrusts and cums at the same time. His hips lifted and jerked as ropes of cum coated his fist and the floor. That was probably the best orgasm he’s ever experienced being a cuck. The sheer amount astonished him. Falling back on the chair, Mark takes a moment to recollect himself.

Mark pants, taking gulps of air. His head was tilted to the side as he glanced back at his boyfriend and the variants. The three above looked drained, but their stamina returned in a matter of moments, their cocks jumping to life as the lustful thirst repeats. Those Marks must have been dehydrated in their dimensions—you were the reason— and now it's finally being quenched.

His thoughts began conjuring vivid images. Your face coated with thick globs of cum, dried tears streaming down your cheeks from the brutal throatfucking, and your eyes filled with pure ecstasy. Mark mutters under his breath as his spent, flaccid cock slowly rises.

Mark also notes the other one with a Mohawk. For a couple of minutes, he’s been buried underneath you, munching and worshipping your ass. He had a firm grasp on your hips, holding you down as he feasted—not giving you a chance to get up.

Never in a million years would Mark think he’d share something similar with an evil variant of himself. Despite being the same person and possibly sharing the same likes and interests, Mark refuses to accept that. They’re evil, sadistic, and unhinged, while he’s the polar opposite. Yet, he and Mohawk like the same thing: your ass.

Whenever he’d come to visit you after a grueling mission, you’d always wear those tight shorts or pants. It's like you were enticing him to pounce—that was your intention. The thin pieces of fabric left nothing to the imagination, showing off your large, firm assets. Sometimes he catches you struggling to put pants on. He just wants to yank them down and worship your voluptuous buns. He could feel himself salivating…

bam

Mark felt a strong punch to the head, forcing him out of his thoughts. The pain surged through his body as the top of his head throbbed with pain. The culprit was Sinister. Mark could tell it was him due to his paler complexion.

“What was that for?” Mark grunts.

“'Cause I wanted to,” Sinister added, “and you don’t want to miss the main event.” The variant taunted as he grabbed Mark’s head and forcibly turned him to face the next phase.

Mohawk was on the bed, near the edge, and lying down, with you straddling him. Your back arched, your torso melting into the variant's muscular body, your dick pressed against his abdomen, and your head nuzzled into his collarbone. The variant was thrusting his hips into the air, wedging his thick cock between your cheeks—missing your entrance.

Mark could hear your soft cries. He knows your hole was aching to be filled, and Mohawk was teasing you with fake promises of being penetrated. Exhilaration was pumping, mainly towards his dick as another variant, the one with a serious and cold tone, took position behind you. He wasn’t doing much but stroking as he looked hypnotized by the globes in front of him.

The last variant, which was nearly identical to him, stood near the bed. He was pumping his dick slowly. His hand reached and lifted your chin, thumb cleaning the cum off your face before feeding it to you, which you happily accepted. He then pressed soft kisses.

“Still can’t believe we’re the same person. You’re just so… pathetic.” Sinister coldly said, letting out a low, bitter scoff.

“We’re still the person, ya know?” Mark replied.

“Unfortunately, but we’re superior—better than you. Just look at him, pure bliss in his eyes. That is, unless you can prove otherwise.” That was the last thing Sinister said before rejoining the others.

Mark was silent. Now, he was itching to prove himself wrong if that’s even the right way to put it.

“P-please… I need it.” You cried, biting your lip and pushing your ass on Mohawk’s dick. Your hole was needy. It was clenching around nothing as it was prepared to latch and pull the variant’s dick into its tight, warm depths.

“This is hot as fuck—hearing you beg.” Mohawk snickered, slapping your ass and teasing your asshole with his tip, pressing it against your entrance before pulling away, leaving you high and dry.

“Can we get on with it? Either start, or I’m gonna do it.” Sinister interjected with annoyance laced in his tone.

“Like hell you would, but fine. Hold on, babe.” Mohawk murmurs the last part into your ear. He lifted you and lined his tip with your hole. You choked on your spit as the pressure against your hole intensified. Mohawk grits his teeth as his sensitive tip is on the verge of piercing your ass.

Your heart beats rapidly, and your muscles tense as the tip penetrates your hole. Slowly but surely, Mohawk’s thick cock pushed into your ass. The searing pain coursed through your body as the stretch was intense. Moans and groans mixed into a symphony. The variant let out bellowed groans as your tight inner walls choked his cock with a vice grip.

“Ngh… f-fuck, you’re so tight.” Mohawk groans, but it doesn’t stop him from pushing the last inches until he's balls-deep. Your body shivered, your hands latching and digging into the variant’s skin.

“Need that mouth again,” Maskless mutters, picking your chin and sliding his cock back into your throat. He chokes, the familiar warmth and wetness swallowing his shaft as he thrusts.

While Maskless uses your throat again, Mohawk pauses on his thrusts, allowing you to adjust. The painful stretch was melting away, and pleasure began to blossom. You signaled to the variant by tapping him on the shoulder.

Mohawk growls, pulling his dick out before ramming back into your ass. Your whines and groans were muffled. Your eyes rolled back as his thick cock was scraping and hitting your pleasure points. The variant’s heavy balls slapped against your cheeks with each harsh thrust he delivers.

Viltrum watched in pure amazement as your tight ass opened wide and took the other guy’s dick. His cock throbbed as it couldn’t wait to be inside your depths—after you made them agree to double penetration. He spreads and lathers his cock with precum, extra lubricant. After waiting for the right time, he positions himself behind you, grabbing your hips and lining his cockhead.

Mohawk stills and waits.

Viltrum groans as he pushes into your occupied ass, his dick sliding against Mohawk’s dick. It was ridiculously crowded, but the tightness and warmth made up for it. You were on cloud nine, entering a blissful state as you were overstimulated; your cock was twitching and leaking like a faucet as your third orgasm was on the horizon.

Your hole was now stretched to its limits, two thick cocks speared you open and scraped your inner walls. Your mouth continued to be used by the other two variants. Within a few minutes, the variants steadily moved in unison, developing a rhythm—one pulls out, and the other pushes in.

Their dicks are deliciously rubbing the right places. Both variants jackhammered into your ass, but Mohawk’s dick was the one ramming into your prostate. They weren’t the only ones. Sinister and Maskless used your mouth until it was their turn. Everything was muffled except for the wet squelching, skin slapping against skin, and the feral growls of the hungry variants.

Maskless’s groans were the loudest as he gently gripped your head, sliding his dick down your endless throat. You peered up at him; his clean, groomed appearance was now disheveled. He shared the same look as your Mark whenever you sucked his dick.

“You’ve had enough.” Sinister hissed, yanking you by the hair and pulling your mouth off Maskless. Your eyes shifted to the variant, his shaped canines gleamed with a wicked grin as he started to ram his dick down your throat.

“Hey, don’t be rough with him! Could’ve been more gentle?!” Maskless reprimanded the other, but it only earned him an eye roll.

“He can handle it. Just look at him.” Sinister replied, looking down at your disheveled, but blissful state. You enjoyed being double penetrated by two thick cocks and having your mouth used by two more. “He likes this.” Sinister reasoned, holding your head in place, forcing you to keep his cock in your mouth.

You stuttered, gagging as your nose touched the variant’s pelvis and pubic region. Your eyes watered from the treatment, but you pushed forward, flicking your tongue against the shaft.

“Holy shit, look at that! There’s a fucking bulge.” Mohawk chimed in, a cruel and amused cackle leaving his lips. He traces your exposed throat, feeling Sinister’s bulging cock through your skin. He could feel it throbbing and moving in there. That and the constant stimulation from your ass clenching around like it was trying to milk dick was pushing him to the brink.

With newfound invigoration, Mohawk picked up the pace, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Your surprised moans and whimpers were choked as it felt like the variant's dick was poking too deep. Your guts were being rearranged.

“Y-you feel so good…” Viltrum growled, panting as he followed Mohawk’s pace. Both of their cocks were fucking your stomach. Your nerves and senses were ablaze, and everything was becoming fuzzy. You could feel Viltrum pressing against your back, kneading your marked shoulder blades, and kissing your nape.

“Best fucking ass in the universe.” Mohawk moans, his head falling off the edge. His thrusts were getting sloppy as his cock throbbed. The variant’s balls tightened, preparing to blow a massive load deep inside your ass.

“And throat,” Sinister added, slowly pulling his cock out. Thick strings of saliva connected the points of interest like a spider’s carefully woven web. You took big gulps of air. Your lungs were burning before being cooled by much-needed oxygen.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Maskless said, pumping his dick with two hands.

In any regular situation, you’ve tapped out long ago, but that wasn’t happening. Your limits were being tested and pushed to the breaking point. Everything was overstimulating your senses and nerves. No guy other than Mark was able to make you have three consecutive orgasms, but these guys were Mark times four—since they’re the same person. Your cock was gliding against Mohawk’s abdomen, smearing precum.

You peered to the side to see Mark stroking his cock, humping his fist as he watched the scene before him. Like the others, he had a disheveled appearance, his muscular, toned body was coated and glistening with sweat and traces of cum—he was also rubbing and pinching his nipples with his free hand.

Then your eyes met, and you could see something in his; it was calculating and observant. You predicted he was planning something, but you couldn’t think as the loud bellows, moans, and groans filled your ears.

“G-gonna cum… breed this tight ass… make it mine.” Mohawk moans, snarling as his fingers dug into your hips. His thrusts fastened but stuttered as a torrent of thick seed gushed from the slit, flooding and painting your fleshy walls.

“Me too… make you my mate…” Viltrum mumbled and cried, biting harshly on your neck as another wave of hot, thick cum filled your ass, thick globs upon globs…

“Keep your pretty face like that… open your mouth.” Sinister growls as he furiously jerks his cock. You obeyed and opened your mouth, awaiting the variant’s delicious seed. He slaps his cockhead against your tongue, groaning as he unleashes his second orgasm. His thick load coated your taste buds, flooded your tongue as he pumped gallons.

“Swallow, sweetheart…” Sinister said with an exacerbated breath, watching as you swallowed yet another load of cum.

Maskless was the only one who didn’t cum as he wanted to save it for when he’s inside you. His cock was throbbing and flushed a deep shade of pink due to him squeezing the tip to prevent his orgasm.

Mohawk and Viltrum pulled out slowly, their cocks dragging along your fucked inner walls before pulling out completely with a wet, audible pop. A wave of cum gushes out of your gaping hole, sliding down your thighs. You cried from the empty feeling, missing the fullness of their cocks.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. Save that for me when I take his place.” Sinister said.

After that, everything was a blur, but you had faint memories of intense orgasms, fucking, and marking as the four variants ravaged your body, wanting to claim you as their own. They dump load after load of hot, thick semen, filling you to the brim like a water balloon being filled with water. The variants took individual turns after the double penetration.

Maskless was slightly gentler than the rest, pushing you flat on the bed and getting in between your thighs. He teasingly rubbed his cockhead around the rim before sliding in without resistance. Broken groans escaped his mouth as the sloppy and warm feeling swallowed his dick. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. During his time, he pressed soft kisses along your neck and cheeks—wanting to give you all the pent-up love and affection, something he couldn’t give you in his dimension.

Mohawk enjoyed cowboy style. He let you have the reins and watched as you desperately rode his dick, fucking yourself dumb on his dick. You were cock drunk to the point when he stopped you, you complained and whined, attempting to move, but he held you in place—his dick buried deep in your ass. He grinned and cooed softly as you begged him to move, your hands punching his chest. He granted your wish, migrating his hands to your ass and hips, still marveling at your thickness. The coupling between you and him filled the void that had plagued him for almost a year, and he finally understood his true feelings.

Sinister loved doggy style. He reveled in the dominance and deep penetration the position gave. Seeing you on all fours with your ass perched up for him to enjoy made him more feral than he already was. Unlike Mohawk, he took full control. One hand pressing your head into the mattress as his dick dug deep into your ass, long and deep thrusts. Hevlett out animalistic grunts, fingers digging into your hips or gripping your hair with a fierce hold. He would sometimes lean forward and start biting or tearing at your skin, wanting to solidify his possession. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake; he was going to take his time with you.

Lastly, Viltrum had you in a mating press position. Your knees pressed against your chest with your calves perched on the variant's shoulders. You had a clear view of Viltrum, his face contorting with pleasure and gritting his teeth as he gave powerful thrusts. You were in a haze, but you could make out his mumbling words: “You’d look beautiful with my child… only the best for my mate.” Viltrum knew you couldn’t get pregnant, but that didn’t stop him from putting you in a mating press. This was the optimal position for consummation. He was going to find a way to have a family with you; that’s his only wish.

The ordeal was a symphony of grunts and groans, the signature wet skin slapping against skin, and the cries for more. Yours and the other’s minds were clouded with sex and desire, reduced to primal instincts of raw breeding and sex. Each of the variants had its way of claiming you until your body was littered with bite marks, a testament to their possessive desire that overshadows Mark.

Your body ached, but in a good way. The attacks upended the weekend plans you had with Mark, and four variants were trying to take you back with them to their dimensions before fucking you in front of your actual boyfriend. They wanted to prove they were better than Mark—they were better than him.

You lie on the bed, rubbing into the dirtied sheets and blankets. You groaned from the aching joint pains and bites. You thought about everything that had happened in the last couple of hours. Having sex with evil versions of your boyfriend while he watched wasn’t on your bucket list, but you enjoyed it. That shouldn’t be a surprise since they’re nearly identical to the original.

The other variants stood at the bedside, examining your displayed body. They were prideful, proud of themselves as they looked at you and their handiwork. They muttered among themselves, surprisingly without conflict, until the main focus, Mark, made his move.

You didn’t realize what was going on until Mark came into your peripheral view.

“Mark..?” You mumbled, rising to a full body stance as Mark crawled onto the bed. He rested against the headboard, his thick, toned legs spread open with his throbbing dick standing proud and strong—it looked raw and swollen, probably due to jerking off for however long the marathon was on.

“Come here.” Mark grunts, patting his lap while stroking his dick as he makes eye contact with you. There was a glint in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before in him, but it made you excited. Your hole tightened, eager with anticipation as you crawled towards the man.

Once you were in arm's reach, Mark pulled you onto his lap. You straddled his legs, and your hands rested on his sweaty pectorals for support. Mark didn’t say anything, only holding onto your hips—doing what his variants were doing not that long ago. He could feel cum leaking out of your gaping hole, coating his happy trail and pubic region.

“Are you—ahh!” You choked, the air being punched out of your lungs as your ass was split open again. Your head tilted back from shock, and your eyes rolled back when Mark began to jackhammer. You could hear his heavy balls slapping against your ass, fapping mixed with wet squelching as the variant’s loads leaked with each aggressive thrust.

Mark growls like a possessed man, wrapping his arms around your waist and bouncing you on his dick and panting heavily as he fucked your sloppy hole. He could feel his variant’s cum sloshing and coating his dick with each thrust and feel the fluids leak, but he ignored and focused solely on you.

His eyes settled on your exposed neck, and a scowl crossed his face. Your neck was littered with marks and puncture wounds, with some caked dried blood—courtesy of Sinister. Without hesitation, he darted for your neck, feverishly and purposefully covering the variant’s claim. Biting and sloppily licking, his tongue lapped before he sank his teeth into your skin.

This was a welcome change. Mark had never been like this, opting for more vanilla and gentler sex, but now he was a man consumed by primal desires. He wasn’t holding back anymore. You could feel his dick ramming directly into your prostate, your dick flopping as he bounced on his shaft. You gasped as you felt his teeth sink into your skin, drawing some blood, which in turn caused you to clench around him.

Mark let out a guttural groan, encouraging him to thrust, but he wasn’t going to last long. His dick was sensitive from jerking off and cumming massive loads—surprising how he managed to control his impending orgasm. His thrusts become slow, but long and deep.

When one final thrust, Mark slammed you onto his shaft, holding you there with his fingers digging into your hips as his dick spurted another generous amount of thick, Viltrumite seed—joining the other variants. Both of you let out moans and groans. Having been drained, your dick only spurted a watery load onto Mark’s hardened, muscular chest.

You collapsed against Mark’s chest, your breathing broken and stuttering as you were officially spent. There was a wet plop as Mark pulled out, his cum oozed out of your hole. The room was silent except for the labor breathing.

“Guess he isn’t a pussy and has balls,” Mohawk commented, wiping his dick clean with a towel. “Was kinda hot watching though.”

“What?” Sinister said, a bewildered expression on his face as Viltrum and Maskless turned to him—even that perked Mark’s attention.

“Pervert, but I expected that from you.” Maskless murmurs. He was looking through your closet, sniffing your clothes, inhaling your delightful scent, before Mohawk said that.

“I call bullshit, I can’t be the only one!”

“You’re alone on this one,” Sinister replied. Mohawk rolls his eyes.

Vilrum stayed silent, but he did get turned on from watching you. Your moans were music to his ears, something he could listen to for hours.

You were completely out of it, resting against Mark’s warm chest as he soothed your aching muscles. You could say you deserve a pat on the back for single-handedly reducing the destruction of the world by fucking the remaining variants.

Mark didn’t say anything. He was soothing you while his gaze focused on the others, watching their moves. Sinister grins at him, bearing his teeth, while Mohawk gives him the middle finger. Maskless was busy burying himself in your closet, and Viltrum stood and looked around your room.

“So, this is where you've all been?” A voice sliced through the quaint room. This new voice grabbed your attention. The newcomer had a cold and disciplined voice, weirdly calm as well.

“Aww, come on, you already defiled him? I wanted to be the one! It's been so long.” Another voice spoke. This one sounded bratty and aggressive, the opposite of the other one.

You slowly reeled your head to the entrance of your room. Your jaw dropped; there were four more variants.

One had a suit similar to Omni-Man’s—he even has that father-like tone. He stood tall with a serious but flat expression. His arms crossed as he examined the scene before him. Standing next to him was another variant with stripes and the Viltrum insignia embedded on his shoulders. He had a sadistic smile as he looked over your naked body, licking his lips.

“It's really you…” A deep and raspy voice said. This variant was more noticeably different than the others. He looked bulkier and more muscular than the others, but he sported deep, jagged scars. His skin looked scorched and veiny, and his eyes were covered by black visors that looked as if they were fused to his sockets. His attire looks like a prisoner's clothing.

The last one was silent, but you could feel his gaze. He wore a black-and-blue suit with a mask covering his face. He seemed like a phantom. He’s just standing there, menacingly; watching and waiting. You could only think of one thing:

“Oh god. There’s four more.”

The End

Author’s note: Hello, my strawberries! This is the longest fic I’ve ever written by a long shot—two months in the making. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to this level. There is more content with Mark coming in the future! That’s something I’m excited for.

Art works belongs to this user on twitter!

Special thanks to my proofreader: @sagethegaywitch