#mask mark

[radlovesfics]

god I have not been able to stop thinking about this since @0bticeo brought it up but like. Knight!Mark would go so hard

be it a medieval setting or like. HEAR ME OUT!!! Mainstream mark or one of his variant selves (im seeing viltrumite) get forced to deal with alien-princess!reader for a mission to generate goodwill or a part of the plan to take control of her planet

The best way to do that is by getting close to the reader regardless and I can see two different versions of her in this scenario. (im ignoring other lore rn)

There’s the genuinely kind and sweet reader with no concept of boundaries who is too nice for her own good and all I can see is whichever of the variants (again mainly viltrumite Mark in mind) having to save reader’s dumbass as they’re basically pretending to be the equivalent of a knight for her and poor reader is in TEARS and clings to Mark just overall super physically clingy and affectionate. id like to think this is probably the first time some of the Marks have had any kind of gentle and loving touch and interpret it in their own way and either become pathetic little puppies who just want YOUR love and affection or decide you’re now basically a chew toy for them to do whatever they want with and making you cry gives them the hardest boner ever. you stay with Mark no matter what and I’d also like to think this some of the most attention you’ve ever received in your life despite being a princess and you cling to it, even if it is Mark just bullying you.

Mainstream mark would get a different scenario but the above could work too as I know damn well Mark would fold for the sweet and nice reader but

I also see mainstream Mark as someone who gets pathetic for strong/dominant/mean women, so his alien-Princess!reader would be exactly that. he has to go to her planet to help with something or for a peace thing whatever but reader is is put under his care and vice versa. she hates it! she hates every second of it!! takes out her frustration on Mark and at first Mark is really put off and they do NOT get along at all but Mark is also in awe over how pretty she is and how she’s so stubborn and headstrong and!! Maybe you’re kinder to your people than you are to anyone of the same rank as you!! He sees that and loves it!! and maybe he watches you save yourself instead of him saving you and as you stand there in the aftermath of whatever fight just transpired, looking wrecked while standing above the bodies of those who tried to fuck with you, Mark has literally never felt more attracted to anyone ever it physically HURTS. you’re glaring at him and bitch him out for being late and how you had to save yourself and you slowly lose steam bc he’s just. staring at you. absolutely smitten. and it’s making you nervous???? bc wtf shouldn’t he be snapping back at you?? but he’s just nodding along, agreeing with whatever you say with the softest look in his eyes it’s actually pathetic and adorable. he stops being so antagonistic back to you after this and you slowly realize how much you love him and something something rest is history !!!!

I honestly can’t think of much else to add here (will think more about medieval shit later) I probs have other thoughts but they gettin a bit too convoluted so this can be interpreted however LOL

[earlgreylatte]

Variant Madness

You thought he was your Mark.

Omni Mark and Shiesty Mark 2V1 you.

Breathing in, you savour the fresh air of the mountain trail you find yourself on. You had visited years ago, but you decided to come again to enjoy the scenery. Maybe you could find a cool rock for Mark and Oliver, too.

You hope things are peaceful for them too, but even if there is another threat that needs to be taken care of, you’re sure Mark would be able to come find you easily enough.

You feel a bit pathetic that you already miss him, even though you’re going to see him in a couple of hours. You suddenly find yourself understanding Debbie’s usual amusement when she watched you two. You really acted like a lovesick puppy, sometimes.

Feeling your phone buzz from your pocket, you fumble for a second as you’re broken from your thoughts, rooting through your jacket to find it. Just as your fingers begin to pull it out a sudden rush of air hits you from behind, your jacket’s hood suddenly pushed over your head as you drop your phone onto the soil as dirt is kicked up into the air.

You whip around, to find…Mark? He was still wearing his black and blue suit, but his entire head was now covered, making him look a little intimidating, with his mouth and hair covered.

He stares at you wordlessly.

“Were you in that much of a rush to show me your new costume? I mean, you just got a new one from Art just a couple of months ago,” you speak up, rubbing the dirt out of your eyes, “Honestly, you could have caused a dirt storm or something…”

He breathes out your name.

You tilt your head, “Is something wrong? Did something happen? Are Debbie and Oliver okay—!?”

Your worrying is cut off when within an instant he has you crushed to his chest, arms locked around you as he buried his head against your neck.

“I just really missed you,” he whispers.

Looks like he’s a lovesick puppy, too.

You can’t hold back a dopey smile, “I missed you too.”

You jolt in his arms when you realize your phone is still vibrating; a redial, so possibly urgent.

“Mark, my phone—“

You’re interrupted again when he pivots you so your back hits a nearby tree, his mask rolled up enough to reveal his mouth which soon presses against yours.

Anything you wanted to say is forgotten as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. He groans into your mouth as his hands plant themselves to your waist as he places a knee in between your legs.

He moves from your lips to your neck, pressing adoring kisses against your pulse point before helping you shrug off your jacket, letting it to the ground as his hands slide under your shirt, gloved fingers brushing against your ribcage.

“Mark,” you breathe, heart swelling at the sweet intimacy he was more than willing to give you.

Your attention is broken again when you notice your phone is still ringing, your gaze sliding from the man nestled against you to the forest floor where your phone laid.

Your body stiffens.

The caller ID illuminating your phone was one you could recognize even from afar just from the amount of heart emojis you set for…your boyfriend.

The boyfriend that was currently with you.

Whose grip on you begins to tighten as your heart starts to hammer in your chest.

You shakily bring up your hands to hook your fingers beneath his mask, slowly pulling it up as he remains as still as a statue. The face is familiar, if not a little more worn, but the brown eyes you held so dear were now filled with a sadness deep enough to drown you.

This wasn’t your Mark.

Mark was definitely lucky he was attractive, you decide.

If he wasn’t, you definitely wouldn’t have tolerated the sheer annoyance his two variants were causing you.

“Were you a virgin or something until now? Because you fuck like a noob,” A Mark with a wild rag mask laughed as the one that was dressed like Omni Man 2.0 pounded into you, your back pressed against an alleyway wall, the area long deserted from the destruction the two men unleashed on the city.

“I doubt you even know what you’re talking about, with how you talk like a preteen boy,” The red and white Mark huffs, tone passive enough that you’d think he didn’t care about his copy’s words if not for his pace speeding up and his thrusts going deeper and deeper until your voice reaches a new octave.

The other Mark scoffs, “Well, not that she minds, already looks cockdrunk off your tiny dick. Hey, sweetheart, bet I can take you to heaven and back with one stroke.”

“I will kill you.” The Mark fucking into you, tightens his grip, turning to death stare the now laughing Invincible.

“Aww, is daddy mad? Scared she’s going to want to run away with me once I slip my dick in her?”

You can’t believe you have to orgasm while listening to their dumbass argument…

“Hey, if you’re going to hog her pussy, at least move her so I can put that mouth to use—“

Annoying people really shouldn’t be so hot.

The invincible tag is so good rn, I’m actually in tears…

Decided to do a 2in1 special because people really want me to make a part two of that other variant post…it will come…

Masterlist

[angel-bitch-boy]

Fun thing I made for the GC

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

He should be at the Adventurer's Guild.

[emtropi]

[tokoyamisstuff]

Random thought how good do you think each invincible variant would be at eating 😺 is there any of them who would be an actual munch

18+ explicit content

Sis, don't- it's not worth it...

Other variants under the cut!

Omnivincible is more skilled than most of them. I just feel like he's got a mature approach and wouldn't just mindlessly delve in like some horny teenager.

He'd take his sweet time, enjoying himself without necessarily wanting something in return. In general he takes great pride in causing you pleasure. Is also pretty creative. After all his strenght allows him to eat you out in positions you didn't even know were possible.

Thought you can only come once at a time? He'll prove you otherwise.

Movincihawk constantly brags about his 'superior technique' but at the bottom line he's not all that good at it, sorry.

It's not like he isn't skilled, but he's pretty selfish and impatient. Any kind of foreplay is not a priority for him in general, he likes to go straight to the point.

Fucks pretty well to make up for it though.

Sinister Mark acts like he's doing you a favor, but with how eager he buries himself between your legs it's evident to say he enjoys this as much - if not even more than - you.

This man pins your thighs apart and eats you out like a man starving. Your taste drives him fucking crazy, so yes it could happen that he bites down harder than he intended to.

Likes to eat you out on your period. No I will not elaborate.

Striped/Target Invincible is super vocal during the whole thing. His grunts and groans vibrate against your folds, he doesn't even notice the effect you have on him.

Hope you're ready for the whole range of dirty talk, mostly degrading but occasionally throwing in words of acknowledgement. Tells you how this is your place - beneath him, completely at his mercy.

Uses his fingers better than his tongue, but is fairly good at both. The combination will send you straight to heaven.

No Goggles Invincible is probably the biggest tease on the entire planet.

This man will push you to your absolute limits, reducing you to a whining, moaning, begging puddle of lust. But he's got no mercy, prolonging your sweet torture for as long as he can - you're only allowed to cum if he says you're done.

With him the thin line between pain and pleasure is blurred into a mixture of pure overstimulation, but goddamn it's worth it.

Viltrumite Mark isn't familiar with earth's customs of intimacy. In their culture, canonically, they solely have sex for procreation. Though we never saw Debbie complaining about Nolan either, so I'm confident he can learn.

Gets the hang of it pretty fast, and quickly grows insateable with this new form of closeness he never got to experience before. He's an absolute mess, almost breaking the bedframe as he pathetically humps the mattress, wanting more more more of you.

Needs lots of cuddles and to be told he did a good job afterwards, pretty please.

Prisoner Mark was in solitary confinement for over a year - prepare to be destroyed. R.I.P.

He'll dive in between your legs and won't leave this place until he's got his fill of you, which could take him a while so get cozy.

Not an inch of your body is left untouched, as if he intents to memorize every detail, just in case you'd slip from his grasp once again.

Be prepared to cum until your body gives up. Man's got to make up for the time he spent away from you.

Unmasked Mark is very gentle, almost cautious in his efforts as if you were a fragile flower one needed to properly care for or it'd wither. He still can't fully believe you're here with him, so he's extra anxious about doing something wrong.

You'll slowly and sensually be guided towards your orgasm, his eyes never leaving yours as he reverently observes your every reaction.

Expect some premium aftercare!

Fully Masked Invincible knows you inside and out, has memorized all the weak spots that make you sing for him. He is completely and utterly devoted to your pleasure, maybe even a little too eager in his efforts since he tends to forget himself in the process.

To him your body is a temple meant for worship, so you'd relentlessly get showered in praise and compliments while he explores your body.

Will initiate at every given opportunity, but never pushes it. He just wants to make you happy, really!

[milk-ducts]

might delete ,, its been fucking ages since ive touched an art program so . it didnt come out as good and im not proud of how the face turned out so wonky 😭

its a quick messy doodle of a buffed out mark w a longer hairstyle <3 begging the showrunners 2 give him these side bangs .. please !! my baby would look so good w them. u could interpret this as an older ver of him,, tho hes still got that baby face

without the shine .. hehe .. he looks better like this .

[gatorbites-imagines]

I can vividly imagine sinister mark on his knees with a collar around his neck on a leash with a muzzle. I love this image so much and I wanna have this for all the marks. Why have one mutt when you can have way way more

I couldn't turn this into actual headcanons or anything, so just have me rambling for a bit about it, because I've had this thought for... a while. 

i will write smut about this if interested, i love this shit.

Me and my 16 evil boyfriends who do what I tell them to do... what Mark would even be the first to have joined the (harem...) group??? I dont even know what to call them all to tell them apart. Please let me know if theres like commonly accepted names, or should I just make my own names for them all. Cuz this is gonna get confusing. 

Like, if you hooked sinister mark first, I could see the others following suit, little by little. Like, theyd see him crawling on all fours, growling and drooling with his viltrum-level muzzle on. Cuz hes the type that would also need one of those bits, like you would find on a horse. Or maybe more like a gag of something. Something he can chew on and grind his teeth into, as he gets too excited and wants to start biting. 

If the other Marks make fun of his collar, sinister Mark beats the shit outta them. He doesn't kill them, only because he knows you'll praise him for holding back. They are all suckers for praise, I think that's just part of being Mark Grayson. They all act like tough shit, but theyll roll over and show their belly for praise, affection and something in their mouths.  

I think it's also part of being Mark Grayson that they're whiners and whimperers, when you get them that far. Some of them will act all tough and scary, but others will just start whining and begging almost immediately. And when the others see that this behavior gets rewards, well.  

It would be even more funny if you were just... a normal guy. Like, they just pulled up in your dimension and somehow you got sinister Mark in a collar, and one thing leads to another and suddenly your small apartment is filled with guys who could destroy earth if they wanted too. 

You have the world, and probably multiverse, in the palm of your hand. Only way to keep everyone safe, is to keep these guys collared, drooling and hard. How you get viltrum grade kink stuff, I have no idea, but you get it.  

I don't even wanna think about how you'll explain any of this to people. It's not like they can really work, since they technically don't exist in your universe, so you all live on your income. And no, you won't let them steal for you. Bad pets go in the crate and think about what they've done and why it was wrong. 

You dont want to explain to your universes GDA how you keep such dangerous guys under control. But hey, your planets gained new protectors, because your... boyfriends? Pets? Want to keep you safe and happy, and will bend over backwards for pets and kisses. Its extra awkward if your planet already has a Mark, and if that Mark is like the normal one.  

Imagine sitting in the GDA, because theyd wanna keep an eye on you and make an ally out of you at this point. One or two of your Marks are kneeling by your feet, heads in your lap, a third is draped over your back, nuzzling your neck. Your universes normal Mark has to pass through, maybe with the guardians, and you guys just... kinda look at each other. 

You swear you feel your Marks start growling and tensing at the sight of your universes normal Mark, like a pack of feral cats or dogs trying to chase off an outsider.  

Your universes Rex would have an absolute field day with this, and would pick on Mark with this fact. Seeing your Marks draped all over you also means people start underestimating them, until the GDA tries to hurt you or threaten you. Then everyone gets a reality check. 

I think most of the Marks keeps the steamy part of your relationship at home, but some of them would not give a shit that you guys are in public. If they notice you are turned on by something, they are ready to drop to their knees right then and there, or, bend over whatever there is to be bent over. 

Honestly, I'd feel bad for anyone with all 16 of them hanging off them, espcially if you are a normal person. There is no way you would be able to keep up with 16 viltrumites. But hey, maybe you can just watch as they please themselves, have them put on a show. Heck, you could probably have them help each other, if you are into that kinda thing, who am I to judge. 

I like to think they all wear some kind of collar. Some would be something as small as a necklace or choker, and others wear a straight up dog collar with spikes on it. One of those “DO NOT APPROACH” collars. Fuck it, put a shock collar on Mohawk Mark, guy needs it.  

Keep their favorite candy on you as small treats. Even funnier if you got one of those bags on your belt that you use for dog treats. Your universes normal Mark would lose his appetite for his favorite candy after seeing you use them to straight up train these guys to behave.  

Who knows, maybe you'll get a 17th Mark if your universes Mark is just a little crooked or different from normal Mark. The problem is your 16 Marks and if they would accept him, like a pack of wolves accepting an outsider. I love these guys. 

[yeahsoapy]

Some marks . They all bite

[bananasplit133]

I LOVE YOUR WORKS OMG

Can I ask if you can write some random headcanons for some of his variants??(like viltrumite mark, shiesty/cowboy mark, sinister mark, lensless mark, Omni mark, mohawk and full masked mark) 😔

THANK YOU, ANON.

Here's (Nicknames they'd call you + Random headcanons at the end) :D

Nicknames They’d Call You

Because each Mark has his own way of expressing (or suppressing) his feelings for you.

Alternate Invincible/Reader

ft: Viltrumite Mark, Sinister Mark, No Goggles Mark , Omnivincible, Mohawk Mark, Fully Masked Mark , Striped Mark, UNmasked Mark

----

Omnivincible - Pet, my mate, my little human

Omnivincible doesn’t see you as his equal, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t cherish you. He calls you pet with a sickening amount of affection, stroking your cheek like he’s admiring his favorite possession. When he calls you my mate, it’s always with this deep, territorial rumble, like he’s reminding himself that you belong to him. And little human? That one slips out when he’s being soft—when he’s tucking you into his side after a battle, or when he lets you trace the scars on his arms.

----

Mohawk Mark - Babe, punk, little menace

Mohawk Mark has a carefree and rebellious spirit that shines through in everything he does. He calls you babe casually, showing his affection without overthinking it. When he calls you punk, it’s a playful nickname that reflects his appreciation for your boldness and attitude. And little menace is a cheeky way of acknowledging the trouble you get into together, with a hint of admiration for your adventurous nature. He loves the energy you bring into his life, making every moment feel electrifying and full of excitement.

----

Sinister Mark - Annoyance, pest, my toy

He swears he doesn’t care about you. You’re just an annoyance, always poking your nose where it doesn’t belong. A pest who lingers in the back of his mind when he should be focusing on more important things. But when he lets his guard down? When it’s just the two of you in the dead of night, and he’s watching you with something unreadable in his eyes? That’s when he calls you my toy. His voice is low, almost dangerous, and he’s daring you to prove him wrong—to show him you mean more to him than that.

----

Target/Striped Mark - Lowlife, my dear, little thing

To Target Mark, you’re a weak little human, and he reminds you of that constantly. “Stay out of my way, lowlife,” he sneers, but there’s something almost possessive in the way he says it. When he’s in a rare good mood, he might call you my dear, drawing it out with that infuriating smirk. And when you surprise him—when you fight back, when you show him you’re not as breakable as he thought—that’s when he calls you little thing. His voice goes soft, almost fond. You’re not his equal, but you intrigue him.

----

No Goggles Mark - You, idiot, my weakness

He’s so angry at himself for caring about you. You’re an idiot for staying by his side, and he’s an idiot for letting you. When he calls you you, it’s always laced with frustration—“You. Get out of here.” But you never do. And that makes you his weakness. He won’t admit it, but the way his hands linger on you, the way his voice breaks when he thinks you’re hurt—it’s undeniable.

----

Viltrumite Mark - Beloved, my reason, treasure

Viltrumite Mark has no need for petty human emotions, or so he tells himself. But when he holds you, when he looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, he calls you beloved. His reason. His treasure. He says them with quiet reverence, his forehead pressed to yours, like he’s trying to commit you to memory in case he loses you.

----

Unmasked Mark - Hope, light, angel

You’re the only thing good left in his world. Hope is what he calls you when he looks at you like he wants to believe in something again. Light is whispered under his breath when you smile at him, when you pull him back from the edge. And angel? That one’s different. That one’s said in a cracked voice, in a moment of pure vulnerability, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he says it out loud.

----

Fully Masked Mark - My love, precious, mine

He’s obsessed with you. He doesn’t just love you—he needs you. My love is murmured like a prayer, over and over again, as he pulls you closer. Precious is spoken with an almost painful tenderness, as if he’s terrified of breaking you. But mine? Mine is the one he says with raw desperation, with a steel grip around your wrist, with a look in his eyes that says he’ll never let you go.

----

RANDOM HEADCANONS

Omnivincible-

- He views you as a treasured possession, and any threat to your safety sparks his ruthless side. He'll eliminate anyone he perceives as a danger to you without hesitation.

-His affection often comes with an unsettling undertone, as he sees you as a part of his empire. He may stroke your cheek affectionately, but it’s always with an intensity that says you’re his and his alone.

- He struggles with guilt over his conquests and often tries to ease that burden by keeping you close. He wants to ensure you never feel the weight of his actions, even if it means manipulating your perceptions of the world around you

----

Mohawk Mark

-He drags you into chaotic escapades, often without a second thought. The thrill of danger exhilarates him, and he finds joy in testing boundaries—even if it leads to reckless decisions.

-He loves to tease you, calling you babe and punk with a playful smirk, but there’s an edge to his playfulness. He enjoys watching you squirm and will push your buttons just to see how far he can go.

-Beneath his carefree facade lies a cunning strategist. He revels in the chaos he creates, and while he enjoys your company, he’ll never hesitate to put his own desires first, even if it puts you at risk.

----

Sinister Mark

-He views you as a possession, often declaring you my toy in a way that sends chills down your spine. His fixation grows darker, making you both intrigued and terrified by his affection.

-He often displays affection in morbid ways, like collecting small tokens of your presence—things you’ve touched or worn. He might kiss your lips a little too hard, deliberately biting them to draw a bit of blood, relishing the taste as a reminder of his connection to you.

-He revels in the fear he instills, often letting you see the darker sides of his nature. When he whispers twisted fantasies to you, he may lean in close and trace the cut on your lip with his tongue, ensuring you know that your pain and pleasure are intricately linked in his mind.

----

Target/Striped Mark

-He revels in his superiority and constantly reminds you of your place beneath him. Calling you lowlife is a power play, a way to assert his dominance while simultaneously being drawn to you.

- In rare moments of vulnerability, he might let his guard down, but it’s often laced with condescension. When he calls you my dear, there’s a mix of arrogance and genuine fondness, a battle within himself.

- He enjoys keeping you close, but it’s always with an agenda. He’ll use you as a pawn in his plans, making it clear that your existence serves his interests above all else.

----

No Goggles Mark 

- Mark thrives on chaos and enjoys provoking reactions from you. His wild grin and giddy laughter reveal how much he relishes the destruction around him, and he finds joy in scaring you just as much as he enjoys the thrill of battle. He might playfully challenge you to hit him, genuinely excited about the pain, seeing it as a game to push your limits.

-He has a twisted sense of affection, mixing playful teasing with darker impulses. When he holds you close, it’s with an intensity that’s both possessive and thrilling. He’ll laugh off injuries, encouraging you to hit him or even react violently, finding a strange delight in the way you both navigate fear and excitement together.

-Despite his unpredictable and dangerous nature, Mark possesses an unsettling charm. He can switch from terrifying to oddly sweet in an instant, making it hard to decipher his true intentions. He might grip your shoulders tightly, leaning in close with a mischievous glint in his eye, leaving you both intrigued and unsettled by his unpredictable behavior.

---

Viltrumite Mark

- He tries to suppress his feelings for you, believing that emotions are a weakness. But beneath that facade lies a man who’s torn between duty to the empire and his desire for you.

-He views his love as a weakness, and though he tries to push you away, he often pulls you closer when it suits him. Your presence is comforting, but he sees it as a distraction from his greater goals.

- When he admits feelings for you, it’s in a way that reflects his indoctrination. He may see you as a potential ally in his conquest, complicating your relationship with his ulterior motives.

----

Unmasked Mark

- Your presence serves as a reminder of what he’s lost, and he often feels unworthy of your affection. He fights against his darker instincts, wanting to protect you but fearing he might hurt you instead.

- He admires you deeply, but his self-loathing often leads him to push you away. He’ll call you hope in moments of desperation, longing for the innocence you represent.

-While he cherishes you, he sees you as a light in his darkness—a burden he feels guilty about. He fears what he might become, yet he clings to you in hopes of redemption.

----

Fully Masked Mark

- He’s utterly obsessed with you and will go to extreme lengths to keep you by his side. His possessiveness often leads him to isolate you from others, believing he’s protecting you.

- He sees you as his salvation from the horrors of his world, and while he loves you fiercely, he often intertwines that love with his darker impulses.

-When he wraps his arms and legs around you, it’s a desperate attempt to feel whole. He often whispers sweet affirmations, but there’s a darkness lurking beneath his devotion—an ever-present fear of losing you to the world he’s created.

(this took me so long to write; im gonna explode)

[stareiiez]

Fully masked Invincible is the sweetest variant you've met. Sure, he's killed people, but everyone makes mistakes, and the way he says, ' I'm sorry for every little thing,' is a lot cuter in your books. A true textbook bottom cutie, but he argues he can top for real if given a chance.

he saves you from the civilian casualties that one of the other variants created. he bridal style carries you through the clouds and profusely apologizes when you're shaking in his arms from being too cold and being held so tight in his arms. he even apologizes for not even being your mark grayson, you're not his but he can't help but touch you like you really are his.

when the two of you are settled on the city's outskirts, and safe from the death and screams. he cups your face in his gloved hands, staring at you from his goggles. he's missed you. he's missed the two most important women in his life. he just needs to get his mom now and take all three of you home. his body is ragged and high-strung under the pads of your fingers, and he halfway chokes on a sob when you don't hold any malice in your pretty gaze when you look at him.

he's always been such a tender lover, sweet on the lips and heavenly in the bedroom; a true fallen angel that never chose a side on the day of reckoning in heaven.

the third time he apologizes is for the way he kisses you when he tugs the mask halfway over his nose and smashes your mouths together just because he can't stand the silence between you two. he tastes like desperation and yearning. Perhaps the tiniest bit of sin when his teeth latch on your bottom lip and suck it into his mouth so he can hear you sigh openly.

However, you don't mind. his sorries escalate from his half-chubbed boner rubbing against your hip to saying sorry for how you writhe and tense on soft patchy grass when his thick dick stretches you out in ways that feel like you're being torn in two. He isn't sorry for cumming too quickly, because he makes up for it in his pussy eating skills later on.

[wordsofwhimsy]

♥ A Jealous Heart ♥ - Pt 2

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【Ａ/Ｎ】⦂ I’m so glad you guys liked the last one!! Shout out to the anon who encouraged me to make a part 2. I love hearing from you guys – please talk to me more! Also the set up is going to be slightly different than the last part, just to keep it fresh~

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】⦂ Variant!Mark Grayson x Reader

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】⦂ Mild violence, possessiveness

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】⦂ None

【Ｓｙｎｏｐｓｉｓ】⦂ This is based in a reality where these Variants are being allowed to stay in the Main Universe under the pretense that they start acting like real superheroes. 

→ 【Ｐａｒｔ　Ｏｎｅ】 ←

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The sound of the waves was soothing as you lay back on your towel, letting the warmth of the sun wash over you. It was the perfect day to just be, with no interruptions, no distractions—just the peace of the beach and the rhythm of the ocean. You were finally beginning to relax when a voice suddenly cut through the calm.

“Hey there, enjoying the sun?”

You opened one eye, glancing up to find a man standing in front of you, his expression a little too eager. His tan was deep, his grin wide and confident.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you replied, offering a polite but minimal smile, not quite interested in a conversation but not rude enough to shut him down immediately. You shifted slightly, keeping your attention on the ocean. The guy didn’t seem to catch the subtle hint that you weren’t looking to be engaged, as he kept talking.

“You know, I think you’d look even better in the water. The waves are perfect today. I’m [his name], by the way.” He stepped in just a little closer, clearly trying to draw you into the conversation with his charm.

You nodded, offering another polite, non-committal smile. “I’m good for now, thanks.” Your response was casual, friendly, but distant. You weren’t being rude, but you weren’t exactly encouraging him either.

→ Sinister!Mark ←

Just then, a sharp sound cut through the air—a sound that felt almost like the wind shifting. Your head snapped to the sky instinctively, just as a shadow loomed overhead.

It was a blur at first, but then you saw him: Mark.

He was flying, soaring through the sky with a grace and power that made your heart race in spite of yourself. His dark figure cut through the sunlight as he descended. His eyes were locked on the scene below, and even from this distance, you could feel the weight of his gaze.

The man standing beside you faltered as the presence in the air shifted. You could see the exact moment he noticed Mark—how his smile slipped just a little, uncertainty creeping into his expression. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you felt the full intensity of Mark’s focus on you.

Mark hovered effortlessly just above the sand, his arms folding over his chest in a smooth, almost casual motion. His eyes, cold and calculating, flicked over to the man. The air seemed to grow heavier, the humidity suddenly suffocating, though the sun still blazed brightly above.

The man tried to recover, clearing his throat awkwardly, but his confidence was shattered. “Uh, I... didn’t realize you were with someone,” he stammered, trying to smile as if to salvage some of the awkwardness.

Mark’s expression was unreadable, but his voice was like silk—smooth, but edged with something darker. “She wasn’t,” he replied, his eyes flicking over to you for just a moment before locking back onto the man. There was no warmth in his words, no offer of politeness. Only cold, unyielding dominance.

The man took an instinctive step back, clearly feeling the tension in the air. Mark’s presence was overwhelming—intoxicating in a way that made it impossible for anyone to stay unaware of him.

“Wait, I’m sorry, am I ruining the moment?” Mark continued, his tone almost playful now, but with a dangerous undertone. “Please, don’t let me throw you off your game. Give her your best shot.” He glanced down at you, his lips curling just slightly at the edges, as though there was something almost possessive in the way he looked at you.

The man, looking visibly uncomfortable now, muttered something about needing to meet his friends and quickly turned to leave. Mark’s eyes didn’t leave him until he was well out of sight.

As the tension melted from the air, Mark slowly turned toward you, his eyes a mix of intensity and amusement. He drifted closer, his presence enveloping you, and the space between you seemed to shrink with every movement he made.

“I didn’t realize you were enjoying this type of company,” he said, his voice low and rich with a dark amusement.

You looked up at him, slightly taken aback by the intensity with which he’d asserted himself. “I wasn’t,” you replied, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

Mark's lips curved into a tight smile, his eyes never leaving yours. “Good to know. Next time I won’t put such an effort in to minding my manners.” His words were soft, almost casual, but the weight of them was unmistakable. His gaze lingered a moment longer before he finally turned, giving you space to breathe—but not before you felt the last remnants of his dominance pressing down on you.

→ Omni!Mark ←

As your discomfort grew, you sensed a strange shift in the air. The once calm, peaceful beach now felt suffocating, and an unspoken tension seemed to linger in the atmosphere. You looked up at the sky, an instinctive feeling creeping down your spine, and you caught a glimpse of something—someone—high above you.

It was him. Of course it was him. Who else could it be but Mark?

He descended from the sky, his figure cutting through the air with such force that it sent a ripple through the surrounding sand. His white-and-red suit clung to his body, the outline of his muscle clearly visible beneath the fabric as he lowered himself down effortlessly, his presence dominating the space around him. His eyes, cold and focused, locked onto you instantly.

The stranger, amazingly, didn’t notice at first, too focused on trying to get your attention. But you could see the moment the curve of his lips dropped downward, his confidence slipping as he finally noticed the dark figure that had was now hanging in the air just above the ground behind him with all the grace of a predator.

Mark, more widely known as Invincible, was postured in a tall, upright position just a foot away, his expression mostly unreadable with a notion of something else in his eyes—an unspoken warning. His gaze didn’t waver as it fell on the man who had dared to come too close.

“Is there a problem?” Mark’s voice was smooth, low, and chilling. It carried an authority that immediately put the stranger on edge. There was no greeting, no pleasantries—just the cold weight of a command, like an impenetrable wall.

The man took a nervous step back, his smile fading as he realized the intensity of Mark’s stare. “I-I was just talking to her,” he stammered, clearly uncomfortable now, trying to justify his actions, but the words were hollow in the face of Mark’s presence.

Mark didn’t move, but his body radiated an unspoken power, like a looming storm just waiting to break. “I’m aware,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was savoring the man’s unease. “And now, you’re going to walk away.”

Despite it being a sweltering summer day, the air felt colder. The man swallowed, clearly intimidated, and mumbled something about “not wanting to cause trouble,” before quickly backing away, stumbling over his words in a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating tension that had settled over him.

As soon as the man was out of earshot, Mark turned his gaze to you, his eyes softening just enough to show he wasn’t angry with you—but there was still something unsettling in the way he looked at you, like a possessive force waiting to consume. His tone was quieter now, but it still held that dark edge. “You didn’t need to entertain him.”

You sat up slightly, staring at him almost amusedly through your sunglasses. “I wasn’t,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but there was an undeniable tension in your voice. “Just being polite.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly as he wafted closer, his figure towering over you. “Politeness,” he mused, the word dripping with disdain. “It’s a weakness. But it’s fine. That’s what you have me for, anyways.”

You looked up at him, unable to fight the sly smirk that quirked onto your lips. Unknown to you, the sight of your body clad in skimp bikini was quicky becoming overwhelming for Mark. Rather than showing you his weakness, he turned away without another word, his cloak billowing slightly in the wind before shooting away into the sky. Your smile only grew broader as you laid back down, glad to be able to go back to enjoying your otherwise peaceful afternoon.

→ FullMask!Mark ←

"You know,” the man continued, reaching one arm up to rub behind his neck in a gesture that seemed somehow both sheepish and cocky. “I’d love to take you out sometime. Maybe show you around the city? It could be fun."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, you hear it. The low sound of someone landing on the sand with a soft thud. The guy, for the moment, seemed none-the-wiser as he continued to eye you hopefully.

You glance up, and your heart skips a beat.

Mark.

He’s standing a few feet away, his back straight and his posture tense. His mask covers everything, but even with his face hidden, you can feel the charged emotions radiating off of him. His gaze—hidden behind the lenses of his suit—still managed to cut straight through the guy in front of you.

The feeling must of started itching at the man as he finally moved his eyes from you to the suited hero behind him. His expression plainly showcased his confusion. “Uh, hey, man, we were just talking,” he says, awkwardly chuckling.

Mark doesn’t say a word. His stare—hidden but unmistakable in its intensity—stayed locked on the guy, as if daring him to make the next move. Your lips furled inward at the tension and finally the guy seemed to piece together some sort of understanding. His arms drop submissively to his sides, taking a clumsy step to the side as his smile vanished, muttering some half-hearted excuse before walking off in the direction of the pier.

Leave it to Invincible to send a man stumbling off in fear without having said a single word.

You glance over at Mark, who doesn’t move an inch. His posture was rigid, and though his features were concealed there was something about his stance—arms crossed tightly—that made it clear: He didn’t like what he saw.

Mark’s tone, when he finally speaks, is surprisingly calm. “Are you okay?”

You sit up, brushing the sand from your skin. “Yeah… thanks for scaring him off though.” You said it more as a joke, but even as the words came out you both picked up on the tinge of sincerity.

He doesn’t respond at first, just stares at the spot where the guy had been. The tension is still there, and for a moment, it feels like he might say something more, but instead, he finally relaxes—just a little.

“You really didn’t need to step in though,” you continued, your voice teasing just slightly. “I could’ve handled him.”

Mark glances at you, and the way the muscles in his jaw flexed was almost lost on you—almost. “I know.” He pauses. “But I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a smile tug at the corner of your lips. “Oh, really? You were jealous?”

Mark shrugs, the movement stiff. “Maybe. Not that it matters.”

You laugh softly, sitting up fully now. “It kind of does.”

For a brief moment, you think you see the tiniest hint of a smirk beneath the mask—just a flicker of a smile. You lean back again, propping yourself up on your hands and grinning. "You’ve gotta be sweltering in that suit. How about you take the rest of the day off? We could hang out, just relax. I’m sure it’d do you some good."

For a moment, Mark doesn’t answer. He just stands there rigidly, like he’s actually considering it. His shoulders, once tense, seem to soften, just a little. It almost feels like he might finally give in—but then, without warning, his jaw tightens, and he glances up at the sky. His voice is steady but laced with an undercurrent of something deeper. "I can’t," he says quietly. "I’ve got too much to make up for. I’ve... got wrongs to right."

You watch him, a small knot forming in your stomach. Before you can say anything else, he takes a step back.

Then, like something breaking free, Mark launches himself into the sky with a force that shakes the sand beneath you. His silhouette disappears into the vast expanse, a streak of black and blue against the bright sky, and you’re left sat there, staring up at the spot where he just was.

A dull ache tugs at your chest, something unfamiliar and sharp. You try to brush it off, but the pain lingers. The way he keeps punishing himself, carrying a weight that’s too heavy for anyone. And no matter how many times he flies off to save the world, it’s clear he’s never going to stop trying to fix something inside himself.

You’re left alone with the sound of the waves again, but now, it feels a little quieter. The emptiness from Mark’s departure echoes, and for a brief, painful moment, you wish he could let himself just... rest.

[donutfloats]

Shitten doodles

From left to right: Lilith (she/they), Dantalion (she/they/he), Rosier (he/him), Andras (he/they), and Paimon (she/her)

[mocharyc]

Invincible variants x reader ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

They watched you succumb to death in every twisted, agonizing way in their universes. Unable to prevent it, in this universe... ♡ It would be different ♡ Parts Available: Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

☆ characters: MoHawk Invincible, Omni Invincible, Sinister Invincible, Viltrumite Invincible, Prisoner Invincible, No Mask Invincible, Phantom Invincible(Full masked), and Emperor Invincible.

☆ TW: Reader is manmade 'Viltrumite'

☆ WC: 5k+ [Part 1-]

☆ Author's Note: I'm truly sad I can’t find much Invincible variants x reader stuff, so I decided to make a story myself! This is going to be a long story with many parts, and I mean lonnggggg. If writer's block doesn't succumb me :P I also plan to include sexual content as well in later chapters. First time posting on tumblr, kinda nervous (ᵕ ´ ∇ ˋ ˶) ––––––––––––––––––

☆

The ice cracked, a shudder running through my suspended form, the cryopreservation ending once again. It was a sensation I'd grown intimately familiar with – the cold, the forced awakening, the metallic taste of the seemingly invincible shock collar tightening around my neck. The small sparks of electricity traveling to the wet muscle trapped inside my head. 

My dull eyes flickered open, adjusting to the harsh glare of the white lights of the GDA facility.

"Experiment 1-01, designated Y/N, reactivation complete," a cold, clinical voice echoed from the speakers. Cecil's voice. Always Cecil. The weak, old white man.

"What is it this time?" I growled, my voice rough from disuse. 

My body felt heavy, a dull ache permeating every muscle. Slunking down on the platform I hiss. The heaters appearing from each side of the enclosure wall to warm my aching body back into submission. 

"A… situation," Cecil replied, his tone unusually strained, "Multiple hostile entities, Invincible variants… Viltrumites in origin, are causing widespread destruction. We require your… assistance."

Hostile Viltrumites? My mind struggled to process the information. They were sending me, me, the weapon they kept locked away, against Viltrumite variants of Invincible? This had to be bad.

The ice finally fully melted away, and I was lowered onto the transportation platform. The shock collar pulsed, a constant reminder of my captivity.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the raw power thrumming beneath my skin. My wet hair sticking to the skin of my back. The tight suit clamped to my skin.

They'd honed me, pushed me beyond any natural limit. I was an experiment seemingly born in this dreadful prison. A test tube for them to fill with anything they dreamed of, and use needlssy. Dissecting my body apart to inject with the results of false experiments. Viltrumite blood, from the one Omni-man himself… I was their ultimate weapon in the face of no return. Crafted as the last stand in the face of no return, even if they were terrified to use it.

"What's the mission?" I asked, my voice flat. My eyes glued to the one sided glass wall, where I could sense the heat Signatures of multiple scientists and Cecil standing behind.

"Eliminate all hostile Invincible variants. No collateral damage," Cecil instructed, his voice laced with a thin veneer of control through the speaker.

No collateral damage? They were asking the impossible.

The transport platform hissed, lifting me from the cold, sterile chamber throught the many levels of the base. Finally to the surface of the GDA's hidden base. 

My eyes widen, as I see the sky for the first time in so many long years. The soft blue sky, the cool chill crisp of fresh air, beautifully painted clouds strengthening across the blue canvas stretched above me. I raised my arms spinning softly with a laugh. Fuck it feels good to be out again! The shock collar suddenly pulsed, a cold, insistent command that made me freeze. "Eliminate all hostile Invincible variants," Cecil's voice echoed in my mind.

With a grumble, I launched myself into the air, a surge of raw power propelling me upwards. The world shrank below, the GDA facility becoming a mere speck in the distance. 

I spread my arms, feeling the wind whip through my damp hair, as it instantly dried in the strong breeze of fresh air. The raw energy of flight coursing through my veins. This was what I was made for.

Zooming through the sky I break the sound barrier, flying into New York. 

The city was a chaotic tapestry of destruction, plumes of black smoke rising like grotesque fingers, the skeletal remains of skyscrapers reaching towards the sky. Building Collapsing.

Once again I break the sound barrier with a thunderous boom, the air around me shimmering with heat. The raw, untamed power of flight, the sheer speed, it was soooo intoxicating.

The scents of the city assaulted my senses – burning metal, acrid smoke, the coppery tang of blood, and the faint, terrified screams of the dying citizens trying to hide and running. It was a symphony of chaos, a macabre orchestra conducted by the Invincible variant in New York. 

And I, the weapon, was here to silence it.

A jolt of electricity from the collar snapped me back to the mission. "Focus girl. Eliminate target in New York. Identification, Mohawk Invincible."

My eyes scanned the ruined cityscape, looking onto a scene of imminent destruction for any sign of the killing machine.

A child, no more than a few years old, stood frozen in terror beneath a crumbling building, its foundations groaning ominously. I felt a flicker of something, a faint echo of… what? It was quickly extinguished by the collar's control. A child...weak...protect? No, mission.

With a burst of speed, I was there. I braced myself, catching the falling building with my bare hands, the concrete groaning under the strain as I held the collapsing building up.

I glanced at the child between my legs, its face a mask of terror streaked with tears and mucus. With one arm still bracing the collapsing structure, I scooped the small body against my chest. Its warmth was shocking—so different from the cold sterility of my existence. The tiny heart hammered against my suit, a frantic rhythm that stirred something protective within me.

Releasing my hold on the building, I launched us both skyward as tons of concrete and steel crashed to the street below. Dust and debris erupted in a massive cloud, consuming everything in its path as I carried the child to relative safety, landing on a section of street that wasn't actively burning.

The asphalt cracked beneath my feet, blackened and weakened by the heat of nearby fires. The child in my arms whimpered, one limb bent at an angle that spoke of fracture and pain. I placed the small form on the ground, studying it with clinical detachment as its eyes—wide with terror—stared up at me. Unintelligible words tumbled from its lips, a litany of fear I couldn't process.

"Stay," I commanded, my voice devoid of warmth or reassurance. Yet as I reached down to brush a speck of blood from its cheek, a spark of something undefinable flared within me as tiny fingers clutched desperately at my hand. Why? Why do I feel this?

"Saving citizens is important, but defeating the threat is top priority." Cecil's voice intruded into my moment of connection, the implant in my head ensuring his control remained absolute.

I turned away, the mission reasserting its primacy in my consciousness. But a blur of motion caught my peripheral vision—a figure streaking across the sky on an intercept course.

"Finally, another fucking hero for me to fucking obliterate!!" A voice laced with manic glee echoed through the ruined streets as the figure—Mohawk Mark���accelerated toward me.

There was barely time to react. I pivoted sharply, using my body as a shield for the child, intercepting the charge with my shoulder. The impact was cataclysmic—like colliding with a runaway train. The force sent us both hurtling through the concrete wall of a nearby building, pulverizing it instantly. The shockwave rippled outward, shattering windows for blocks in every direction.

My body shot through the other side of the building, into the street where people were running. 

The bodies of fleeing civilians exploded like fleshy water balloons as I crashed through them, the force of the impact turning them into a spray of blood and bone. I spat, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth as I picked the strand of intestines off my shoulder, flicking it away. The child I'd tried to protect was now unrecognizable, I was clumsy and squeezed the child so tightly against me it exploded. reduced to a pulped mass of tissue in my arms, its blood staining the front of my suit. A flash of anger and envy flickered through me—this child's suffering was over while mine continued indefinitely—I felt a flash of anger and envy, before the emotions quickly dismissed within me. 

"Insignificant," I hissed, dropping the remains with a wet splat onto the blood-slicked sidewalk.

Rising to my full height, I ignored the pain radiating through my system. Pain was merely information, and information could be disregarded. The mission remained paramount: eliminate the target. And now, the target had revealed himself.

Debris from the shattered building continued to rain down around me as I steadied my stance. My eyes—cold, calculating, devoid of mercy—locked onto the figure hovering above the rubble. Mohawk Mark. His blue and black suit hugged a physique identical to the original, but the spiky mohawk and the arrogant smirk set him apart. It was a face I had been programmed to destroy.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with cruel amusement that barely masked something deeper, "What do we have here? Another hero comes to play?—" His expression shifted, eyes widening slightly as he studied me more carefully. Recognition dawned in his gaze, followed by confusion that seemed genuine. "Wait... Y/N?"

The name struck me like a physical blow. Something flickered in the recesses of my mind—a half-remembered dream, perhaps, or an echo of a life that had been systematically erased. I groaned, clutching my head as fractured images threatened to coalesce into meaning. The collar responded instantly, electricity searing through my neural pathways, burning away the nascent memories before they could fully form.

My mission remained untainted by sentiment: eliminate the target.

I launched myself at him. My fist aimed for his jaw with enough force to shatter concrete, but he reacted with equal speed, blocking the blow and retaliating with a devastating kick to my ribs. Blood erupted from my mouth as the impact sent me crashing through yet another wall. The concrete disintegrated around me, offering no more resistance than tissue paper.

I rose from the wreckage without hesitation, the pain relegated to some distant corner of my consciousness as I assessed my opponent with newfound respect. It had been a long time since anyone had landed a blow with such force.

Mohawk Mark landed before me, his expression a mix of confusion and something else I couldn't name. He was hesitating, holding back his attacks. Why?

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion. "Don't you remember me? Or did the fucking Mark of this universe not meet you?! Love you!" he hissed, frustration clear in every word.

"Target identified," I responded, my voice empty and cold. I ignored his words completely - they meant nothing to a weapon. "Elimination protocol engaged."

I lunged forward with everything I had, throwing punches that could level buildings. Each blow carried enough force to shatter concrete, aimed to destroy rather than just hurt. But he was good - too good - dodging and blocking with growing desperation in his movements.

Something was wrong. He wasn't fighting back with full strength. He was holding back, his eyes fixed on me with an expression I couldn't understand.

"Fucking stop, Y/N!" he yelled, his voice cracking with desperation. "You don't have to do this y-you bitc–!"

I ignored him completely, focused only on my mission. Finally, an opening! My uppercut connected with his jaw, sending him flying skyward. I followed immediately, delivering another crushing blow to his chest that sent him crashing through the roof of a nearby building.

I zoomed to where he landed, pulling my fist back for what should be a finishing blow. But he caught my punch, his eyes wide and filled with emotion that made me hesitate.

"Y/N... please," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. When I saw he wasn't defending himself anymore, I delivered a savage kick to his ribs that sent him smashing into a burning bus. The metal folded around his body like it was made of paper.

"Shut up," I growled, feeling nothing as I approached. "You're a target. Nothing more."

He struggled to his feet, his mohawk now crooked, his blue and black suit torn and stained with blood and dirt. Despite the beating, his eyes never left mine.

"But... it's me, Mark! Don't you fucking remember?!" The pain in his voice wasn't just physical.

Remember? The word bounced around inside my empty mind. Remember what? My life was the cold lab, the endless tests, the collar's constant shocks. There was nothing before that. Nothing to remember.

I charged at him again, aiming for his throat this time. He dodged, grabbing my arm as he pulled me down for a punch and suddenly freezing as his eyes locked onto the collar around my neck. Something changed in his expression - understanding dawned.

"Shit, I mean it, stop!" he yelled, his voice mixing anger and desperation. "You don't have to do this! Are they fucking controlling you?!"

The collar sent a massive shock through my body, making my vision blur and my muscles spasm. I stumbled backward, momentarily stunned. He used the chance to grab my head, his fingers pressing against my skull as he pulled my head back to look at him directly. My eyes drazed against his fierce ones.

"Fucking listen to me!" he pleaded, his grip gentler than it should be. "I know who you are! I... loved you in my universe! B-before you—" His voice caught in his throat, and I watched, strangely fascinated, as tears formed in his brown eyes. His hands loosened, now almost cradling my head instead of restraining me.

Loved? The word was strange, meaningless to me. What did it mean to be loved? I shook my head, trying to clear the fog from the collar's shock. For a brief moment, I felt the control slipping, something else trying to surface. But it passed quickly, and I snapped back to my purpose. Kill.

"Fucking listen to me, Y/N," he begged, his voice rough with emotion. "They're controlling you! That collar... it's controlling your damn mind!"

I answered with my elbow, smashing it into his face with all my strength. I felt his nose shatter under the impact. Blood sprayed as he staggered backward, yet he looked unharmed. I didn't hesitate, unleashing a storm of punches that would crush a normal human to paste, but he wasn’t normal, he was a variant, of Invincible. He easily blocked, dodged, but I was relentless.

"Eliminate... target," I mumbled, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears.

As I paused to gather strength for another attack, he lunged forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. Despite everything I'd done to him, his grip was surprisingly gentle.

"SHIT, you have to fight it, Y/N!" he urged, his eyes burning with intensity. "You're stronger than this! Tell me who's controlling you! I will fucking murder them!"

I struggled against his grip, my body fighting like a puppet on strings as the collar shocked me repeatedly. But something about his words, his voice - they were cutting through the fog in my mind, stirring something buried deep inside me. Fight? How could I fight what I was?

"She's not listening," a new voice called out, calm but commanding, making both of us freeze. "She simply can't.. She wasn't made for you, she was made for me."

A new figure landed beside Mohawk Mark - another Mark variant, but this one wore a red and gray suit. A mask with black eyesless goggles. Omni Invincible. His mask couldn't hide his grim expression as he studied me. "Plus, the collar has her completely under their control."

"We have to stop her," another voice hissed as a figure in dark blue and black landed heavily on the rooftop. Phantom Mark. His voice carried deep pain and barely controlled rage. "She's being used... I can't bear to see her again... not like this..."

Used? Why did they care what happened to me?

"Used?" A mocking voice cut through as another Mark variant landed directly in front of me and Mohawk. This one wore black and yellow - Sinister Mark. His smile was cruel as he stared at me with open interest. "She's a weapon. A god damn killing machine. And we're her targets." His grin widened, predatory and cold. "She's perfect, so much better than the fucking pathetic Y/N of my universe."

Perfect? What did he mean? Another… me? 

More Mark variants began to arrive, surrounding me on the rooftop. Each one showed recognition when they saw me, their faces displaying a mix of shock, grief, and something that looked like desperate hope. Viltrumite Mark, Emperor Mark, Prisoner Mark, and No Masked Mark all landed around me. Every threat I was supposed to eliminate was gathering in one place.

"Y/N," Viltrumite Mark said softly, his voice almost tender, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. A stark contrast to his white suit. "Wow... you look just like her. Just like my Y/N. Your face, that beautiful face... and your—" He stopped suddenly, his gaze fixing on the collar around my neck. His expression shifted from wonder to anger.

They all knew me? How was that possible when I didn't know any of them?

I felt something touch my back - warm, gentle - and it broke my frozen state. I lashed out blindly, my fist connecting with No Masked Mark who had tried to hug me. The impact sent him flying across the rooftop. Warmth? No. Target.

The electricity from the collar intensified, becoming nearly unbearable. I staggered under the pain, blood dripping from my nose as my vision blurred. My arm froze mid-swing as my muscles began to lock up. My strength was fading. But I must keep fighting.

"I believe she's too far gone," Emperor Mark said grimly, resignation heavy in his voice. "We have to disable her..."

"Are you fucking insane?! Hell no!" Mohawk Mark shouted, stepping between me and the others. His voice shook with fierce protectiveness. "I watched her die in my universe and I will not let it fucking happen again!"

Die? What did that mean?

The Marks surrounded me, their expressions complex mixtures of determination, sorrow, and fear. They weren't attacking to kill - they were trying to subdue me, to break the collar's hold. But every hit made the collar shock me harder.

Phantom Mark attacked first, moving faster than I could track in my weakened state. His fist aimed for my shoulder, and I managed to catch his arm, but the force still sent me staggering backward. I wasn't prepared for this coordinated attack, especially since they seemed to be holding back.

Omni Mark followed with a precise kick to my ribs. I twisted my body to block, but the impact still sent shockwaves of pain through me, launching me into the sky.

Viltrumite Mark and Emperor Mark moved together with perfect coordination, their attacks aimed to disable, not kill. They fought with ruthless efficiency, their movements showing years of combat experience. I blocked and countered as best I could, but their combined assault was overwhelming.

Prisoner Mark and No Masked Mark fought with less precision but equal power. Their attacks were wild and unpredictable, making them hard to counter. I dodged a powerful swing from Prisoner Mark only to be caught by a kick from No Masked Mark.

Mohawk Mark moved differently from the others. His eyes never left mine, filled with desperate pleading. His attacks lacked killing intent - he was trying to restrain me rather than hurt me. He repeatedly tried to grab me, to hold me still, but I was too quick.

And then there was Sinister Mark. He moved like a predator stalking prey, his attacks brutal and precise. His eyes gleamed with cruel enjoyment, fixed on me with disturbing intensity. He wasn't just fighting - he was enjoying every moment.

He feinted high before kicking my knee with savage force. Pain shot through my leg as I stumbled. He immediately followed with a vicious uppercut to my jaw that made my vision go white for a moment. I spat blood, the metallic taste filling my mouth as I nearly bit through my tongue.

"Come on, Y/N," he taunted, his voice low and excited. "Show me what you've got."

Unlike the others, Sinister Mark wasn't holding back. He reveled in the violence, moving with brutal efficiency. A predatory grin never left his face as he aimed to cripple me. His fist connected with my jaw again, sending another shockwave through my skull. I managed to retaliate with a kick to his chest that sent him crashing through a skyscraper.

New York was completely destroyed around us. I couldn't handle all eight of them at once. It was too many... but I had to fight. Must focus.

"Enough!" Omni Mark shouted, his voice echoing through the ruined city. His face was set with grim determination. "We have to end this!"

He launched himself at me with perfect control and precision. Before I could dodge, he grabbed me in a powerful bear hug, pinning my arms to my sides, his chin pressing to the top of my head. I struggled against his grip, trying desperately to break free, but he was too strong, and I was weakening by the second.

The other Marks surrounded me, their combined strength impossible to overcome. Their expressions mixed pain and resolve as they held me tight. I hissed and fought, biting Sinister's hand when he tried to touch my face. He pulled back, laughing as he licked the drop of blood from his hand.

"She's so feisty, I love it~" he purred, eyes gleaming.

"Enough! Come on guys, we have to get this fucking collar off," Phantom Mark said, his voice strained with sorrow. "That's the only way to free her."

Mohawk Mark reached for the collar, his fingers trembling. Fear and determination battled in his eyes as he hesitated.

"If we remove it, she could lose control," Omni Mark warned gravely. "She could destroy everything, or worse... we could lose her."

"It's the only chance we have," Mohawk Mark replied firmly, his fierce eyes locked with mine. For a moment, they softened with an emotion I couldn't name. "We have to trust her."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gripped the collar around my neck.

"AHHHHHHH-!" A scream of pure agony tore from my throat as he tried to break the collar. The device unleashed its final defense - a massive electrical current that ripped through my entire body and into anyone touching me. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever felt, beyond what any human could survive.

The world around me faded to white as electricity consumed everything.

The air crackled with raw energy, the shockwaves from the collar's defense system rippling outwards like violent tsunamis across the already devastated rooftop. Y/N's screams tore through the ruined city—a primal, guttural sound that sliced through the hearts of the gathered Marks like a heated blade. Her body convulsed violently in their grip, crimson streams of blood trickling from her ears as her eyes rolled back, revealing only whites.

Omni Mark's muscles strained beneath his crimson and slate-gray suit, veins bulging like ropes under his skin as he maintained his vise-like grip on Y/N. Despite the electrical current surging through him, his face remained a mask of controlled determination—only the slight twitch at the corner of his right eye betraying his agony.

"Hold steady," he commanded, voice unwavering despite the pain. His analytical gaze never left Y/N's face, studying every microexpression with obsessive intensity. "The collar's defense system is activating exactly as anticipated. Maintain your positions." Behind his disciplined exterior, a possessive gleam flickered in his eyes—the calculated look of a general who had just discovered his most valuable weapon.

"FUCK! This hurts like a motherfucking BITCH!" Mohawk Mark roared, spittle flying from his mouth as he yanked at the collar with manic desperation. His once-proud mohawk now drooped pathetically to one side, plastered to his scalp with sweat that poured down his face in rivulets. His wild, bloodshot eyes darted frantically between Y/N's contorted face and the other Marks. "Back the FUCK off, assholes! This is MY moment with her!" he snarled when Emperor Mark moved closer, his voice cracking with equal parts pain and possessiveness.

Viltrumite Mark held Y/N's thrashing legs with unwavering strength, his pristine white uniform now marred with smoking char marks. Unlike the others who grimaced and cursed through their pain, he maintained an almost regal posture—back ramrod straight, chin lifted imperiously even as electricity danced across his skin.

"Such primitive technology," he remarked coldly, his voice carrying the smooth, cultured tones of someone accustomed to absolute obedience. His steely gaze traced the contours of Y/N's face with unmistakable ownership. "In my empire, she would have been conditioned properly. My Y/N required no such crude devices to ensure compliance." His fingers tightened possessively around her ankles, leaving white imprints on her skin.

No Masked Mark hovered anxiously at the periphery, bouncing on his heels like an impatient child. His unmasked face—so similar yet different from the others—contorted with a peculiar mixture of eagerness and uncertainty.

"Will she remember me when she wakes up?" he asked, voice tinged with childlike hope that seemed bizarrely out of place amid the destruction. His eyes never left Y/N's face, a hungry desperation evident in his gaze. "I won't let you suffer like William and my Y/N did," he murmured, the words tumbling out in a rushed whisper before his expression hardened again with determination.

Phantom Mark's grip on Y/N's arm was white-knuckled, his midnight blue and obsidian suit smoking where electrical feedback scorched the material. Unlike the others whose focus remained entirely on Y/N, his haunted gaze occasionally darted to the ruined cityscape surrounding them, as if seeing ghosts in the debris.

"We're going to lose her!" he cried out, voice thick with an emotion he couldn't fully suppress. The perpetual fury that typically blazed in his eyes momentarily gave way to raw grief—a glimpse into the trauma that drove him. "She looks just like my Y/N when they took her from me." His grip tightened, unwilling to let go even as the pain intensified, a guttural yell tearing from his throat as another surge of electricity pulsed through them all.

Emperor Mark strode forward with the confident swagger of royalty despite the crisis unfolding before him. His uniform, adorned with subtle gold embellishments, smoldered at the edges as he moved to assist despite Mohawk's furious objections.

"This primitive technology is beneath us," he declared, his voice carrying the practiced resonance of one accustomed to addressing multitudes. His movements were precise, efficient—a ruler accustomed to servants handling menial tasks now forced to act himself. "In my empire, she would have been treated with the respect befitting her connection to me." His eyes tracked possessively over Y/N's convulsing form as he grasped part of the collar, a barely audible hiss escaping through clenched teeth as electricity surged through his fingertips.

Through it all, Sinister Mark prowled the perimeter of the group like a predator assessing wounded prey. Unlike the others who betrayed their pain through grimaces and curses, his lips curled into a twisted smile that never quite reached his cold eyes. The black and yellow of his suit seemed to absorb the shadows around them, making him appear more demon than man as he circled the struggling group.

"Look at you pathetic fuckers," he sneered, voice dropping to a dangerous purr that somehow cut through the cacophony of pain and destruction. "All of you, burnt and crying over her like she's the last woman in the multiverse." His eyes gleamed with cruel delight as they raked over Y/N's suffering form, lingering on the places where her suit had torn during the battle. "Mine was weak, useless when it mattered," he continued, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. "But this one..." His voice trailed off into an appreciative growl. "This one has real potential."

He continued circling them with predatory grace, each step deliberate and measured, like a lion stalking gazelles. The others, too focused on Y/N and their own pain, barely registered his calculating assessment until he suddenly stepped forward with decisive purpose.

"We'll do it my way," he declared, voice slicing through their collective agony with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. "Otherwise she's fried, and none of us gets what we want." There was no benevolence in his offer—only ruthless pragmatism and thinly veiled desire.

Sinister Mark moved into position with fluid grace, eyes locking with each Mark in turn. His gaze was sharp and challenging, daring them to defy him while simultaneously asserting dominance. "We're going to rip that collar off her neck, all at the same time. Understand that, you pussies?"

"But the shock—" Omni Mark began, his typically calculated façade cracking slightly as another surge of pain tore through his body.

"The shock is killing her!" Sinister Mark snapped, genuine anger flashing in his eyes like lightning. For the briefest moment, something almost like concern flickered across his features before being submerged beneath his usual cruel demeanor. "We either pull it off now, together, or she dies. Are you all going to be useless now?"

Despite their differences, despite the simmering tensions and individual desires to claim Y/N for themselves, the Marks exchanged glances of reluctant agreement. In this moment, keeping her alive took priority over their competition.

Sinister Mark positioned himself beside Omni and Mohawk, placing his hands on the collar with surprising gentleness. A low, unsettling laugh escaped his lips as electricity coursed through him—the pain seemingly pleasurable to his twisted mind. Prisoner and No Masked Mark grabbed the other side, their faces twisting into grimaces of determination. Phantom and Viltrumite followed suit, hissing breaths escaping through clenched teeth.

"On my mark," Sinister commanded, voice cutting through the chaos with sharp authority. "One..." His fingers tightened around the collar. "Two..." His eyes locked onto Y/N's face with possessive intensity. "THREE!"

With a collective roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of what remained of New York City, the Marks pulled. Omni Mark and Mohawk Mark yanked with such force that tendons stood out like steel cables in their necks, while Viltrumite and Phantom used their strength to counter Y/N's violent convulsions. The air around them crackled and sparked with deadly energy, the building beneath them crumbling further as a deafening SNAP echoed through the ruins.

The collar broke free.

The electrical storm ceased instantly, energy dispersing into the air with a final concussive shockwave that sent debris flying in all directions. Y/N's body went limp between them, her screams fading to an eerie silence that felt more ominous than her previous agony. The Marks, exhausted and scorched, collapsed around her on the rooftop, their breath coming in ragged gasps that disturbed the settling dust.

Sinister Mark recovered first, shoving Mohawk aside with unnecessary force to kneel beside Y/N's still form. His eyes traveled over her with unmasked hunger as he reached out to trace the line of her jaw with surprising gentleness—a predator admiring his prize. "She's still alive," he announced, voice unexpectedly soft, almost reverent. "But barely..."

"Get your fucking hands off her," Mohawk Mark growled, struggling to his knees despite his injuries. His normally arrogant demeanor was stripped away, leaving raw desperation in its place as his eyes never left Y/N's face. "I found her first, you sick piece of shit."

"In your juvenile fantasies perhaps," Emperor Mark countered icily, moving closer to Y/N's limp form despite his weakened state. His regal bearing remained intact even while injured, chin lifted with imperial disdain as he regarded Mohawk. "She requires proper care and guidance, which only I am qualified to provide."

Omni Mark silenced them with a sharply raised hand, his authoritative presence reasserting itself even while injured. "Enough," he commanded, voice brooking no argument. "She needs time to recover before any of us make claims." His eyes, however, told a different story—calculating grey depths already mapping out strategies to separate Y/N from the others when the moment was right.

The Marks exchanged wary glances, temporarily united by their shared goal but irrevocably divided by their desire for the same prize. They had saved Y/N from the collar's control, but the battle for her had only just begun—a new war brewing beneath the surface of their temporary alliance.

"We need to get her out of here," Omni Mark said, his voice low and urgent as his eyes methodically scanned the horizon. His brow furrowed in a deep, concerned frown that belied his typically impassive demeanor. "Angstrom won't wait forever. We still have a mission to complete."

A tense silence fell over the group, heavy with unspoken implications. The mission. The destruction of this universe. It was their objective, their reason for being here. But now, with Y/N lying before them, their priorities had irreversibly shifted.

"What now?" No Masked Mark asked, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes, wide and filled with an almost childlike worry, never left Y/N's face. His features drawn and pale, he anxiously gnawed at his lower lip—a nervous habit that revealed the youth beneath his power.

The original mission, Angstrom Levy's directive to destroy the mainstream universe, loomed over them like a shadow. They were here to wreak havoc, to dismantle this reality and claim it for themselves. But the discovery of Y/N had thrown their carefully orchestrated plans into beautiful disarray.

"Well we can't just fucking leave her here, dipshit," Mohawk Mark snapped, his voice cracking with emotion despite his attempt at his usual abrasiveness. His jaw set in a determined line, eyes blazing with fierce protectiveness as he hovered over Y/N's still form. "Not like this anyway. We need to find somewhere safe—" He trailed off, gaze darting around the ruined cityscape as if a solution might materialize from the rubble.

"A safe place?" Prisoner Mark scoffed, voice dripping with bitter cynicism. The scarred tissue of his face twisted into a mocking grimace as he gestured at the devastation surrounding them. "In this ruined world? We destroyed everything worth saving." Despite his harsh words, his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern as they drifted to Y/N's unconscious form.

"We'll find one," Viltrumite Mark stated with cold certainty, voice carrying the weight of imperial decree. His eyes, usually hard as flint, softened imperceptibly when they fell upon Y/N. "There must be somewhere untouched by our... activities." The slight hesitation in his typically smooth delivery revealed an unusual uncertainty.

"We can't abandon Angstrom's mission either," Omni Mark countered pragmatically, crossing muscular arms over his broad chest. His analytical mind was already formulating contingencies, weighing variables with machine-like efficiency. "He'll notice something is wrong if we deviate too significantly from the plan."

Sinister Mark rose to his full height, rolling his shoulders as if shedding a burden. His eyes—cold and calculating—swept across the ruined cityscape with predatory assessment. His features hardened into a mask of ruthless determination as he reached a decision.

"We'll do both," he declared, voice a low growl that somehow carried more authority than Omni Mark's reasoned commands. "We continue the destruction," he elaborated with a careless shrug that belied the intensity of his gaze, "but first, we take her somewhere safe."

He sighed—an oddly human gesture from such a monstrous figure—and pointed toward the outskirts of the city, where the skeletal remains of skyscrapers gradually gave way to the dense, seemingly untouched wilderness beyond. "There," he stated with absolute certainty. "We'll find a secluded spot, somewhere Angstrom won't think to look. Somewhere we can... protect her."

The way he lingered over the word "protect" sent an involuntary shiver through the group, but none dared contradict him. With a collective nod of reluctant agreement, the Marks carefully lifted Y/N's limp form, each positioning themselves to maintain contact with her—their movements gentle despite their immense strength. Viltrumite Mark delicately wiped a droplet of blood from her cheek with a tenderness that seemed entirely at odds with his imperial bearing.

They rose into the air in tight formation, carrying their precious cargo through the smoke-filled sky, leaving behind the ravaged husk of what had once been New York City.

Eventually, they found a secluded cabin nestled deep within the dense forest, a small, unassuming structure that seemed miraculously untouched by the chaos they had unleashed upon the world. Inside, they discovered a lone occupant—an elderly man whose rheumy eyes widened with terror at the sight of eight identical men, each bearing the face of destruction that had dominated emergency broadcasts before they failed.

A swift, brutal act silenced his frightened cries, leaving the cabin empty and waiting for its new occupant—a practical necessity that none of the Marks questioned or regretted.

They laid Y/N on the worn wooden floor of the small cabin with surprising gentleness. Her body remained still and pale against the rough-hewn planks, face tear-stained and peaceful despite the violence of her liberation. Tendrils of her hair fanned out around her head like a dark halo, slightly frizzed from the electrical assault she had endured. The Marks gathered around her in a protective circle, their expressions a complex mixture of concern, determination, and barely concealed desire as they gazed upon the woman who mirrored the one they had each lost in their respective universes.

"We'll take shifts," Omni Mark announced, instantly assuming command with practiced ease. His calculating eyes scanned the modest room with meticulous attention to detail, mentally cataloging potential threats and escape routes. "Someone will stay with her at all times. The rest will continue the destruction, maintaining our cover while we monitor her condition."

"And the mission?" No Masked Mark questioned anxiously, raising his arms in a helpless gesture. His youthful features contorted with uncertainty, clearly torn between their original destructive purpose and this unexpected development.

"We'll continue," Omni Mark replied with firm assurance, locking eyes with No Masked Mark. He placed a steadying hand on the younger variant's shoulder, grip firm but not unkind. "But we'll approach it strategically. Create diversions, spread out our forces, minimize unnecessary collateral damage. We'll maintain the appearance of following Angstrom's directives, but our true priority remains here." His eyes flickered meaningfully toward Y/N's unconscious form.

"She'll wake up," Mohawk Mark insisted with desperate conviction, roughly wiping at his reddened eyes with the back of his hand. The vulnerability in his voice was startling, stripping away his carefully constructed arrogance to reveal raw emotion beneath. "She fucking has to. She can't leave me again... not after I just found her."

Sinister Mark observed Mohawk's naked emotion with evident disgust, a contemptuous sneer curling his lip. Yet when he moved forward to kneel beside Y/N, his movements possessed an unexpected grace, almost reverent in their precision. His fingers—capable of crushing steel and ending lives without effort—traced the delicate lines of her face with obsessive gentleness, exploring every curve and hollow as if committing them to memory.

"She will," he said, his voice a low, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate through the cabin's wooden bones. Unlike the desperate hope in Mohawk's tone, Sinister's words carried the weight of absolute certainty—a predator's confidence in claiming what he considered already his. His eyes—typically cold and calculating—burned with an intensity that made the other Marks shift uncomfortably. "And when she does, we'll be ready; waiting for those beautiful eyes to reopen to us."

The possessive emphasis he placed on "us" fooled no one—least of all himself. His fingers lingered a moment too long on the pulse point at her throat, his expression momentarily softening into something almost tender before the mask of cruelty slammed back into place.

The Marks had a new mission now. The destruction of the mainstream universe still bound them by obligation and necessity, but they were now equally bound by a newfound sense of purpose—a desperate, collective desire to protect the woman they had found. She was both stranger and intimately familiar, a phantom made flesh, the woman they had each lost in their respective universes, and now, the woman they were collectively determined to save—from others, from the world, and perhaps from themselves.

They began dividing their forces with military precision, Omni Mark drafting plans with Emperor Mark's input while Viltrumite offered cold, tactical suggestions. They would spread across different continents, maintaining the façade of random destruction that Angstrom expected, while rotating shifts to ensure Y/N was never left unguarded. Paris would fall next, then Moscow, Tokyo, and beyond—a symphony of calculated chaos designed to mask their true priority.

The first day of their war against this universe was far from over, but the discovery of Y/N had fundamentally altered its purpose. What had begun as simple conquest—the destruction of one universe among infinite possibilities—had transformed into something far more complex and personal. Each Mark now fought with renewed purpose, their actions guided not merely by Angstrom's directives but by the silent promise they had made to the unconscious woman in the cabin.

The mission was no longer just about conquest; it was about salvation—about reclaiming a lost love, about rewriting a tragic fate that had played out eight different ways across eight different realities. In their own universes, they had failed her, each in their own way. Too weak, too late, too cruel, too blind—their regrets took different forms but shared the same bitter taste. This Y/N offered something none of them had dared hope for: a second chance.

They would keep this Y/N safe at any cost, jealously guarded even from each other. None spoke this truth aloud, but it hung in the air between them, a silent agreement underscored by watchful gazes and lingering touches.

"Mohawk stays with her first," Omni Mark announced, his tone making it clear this was not a suggestion but a command. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the flash of rebellion on Sinister's face. "He found her first. We'll rotate every six hours. No exceptions."

The others nodded with varying degrees of reluctance, Viltrumite's jaw tightening with barely contained objection while Emperor Mark's fingers drummed an impatient rhythm against his thigh. Only Sinister Mark seemed truly at ease, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth as if he already saw moves ahead in a game the others didn't realize they were playing.

As the Marks departed one by one to continue their orchestrated destruction across the globe, Mohawk Mark settled beside Y/N's still form. Alone at last, his carefully maintained façade of arrogance and anger crumbled like the buildings they had destroyed. With shaking fingers, he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch feather-light against her skin.

"I found you again," he whispered, voice cracking with emotion he would never show the others. "And this time, I won't fucking lose you. I swear it."

Outside the cabin, a gentle breeze stirred the trees, nature continuing its rhythms oblivious to the schemes of gods and monsters. Inside, a different kind of war was just beginning—one fought not with fists and fury, but with patience and possession. Eight versions of the same man, each determined to claim what they believed was rightfully theirs alone.

And at the center of it all, still and silent, lay Y/N—oblivious to the tempest her very existence had unleashed, unaware that she had become the eye of a storm that would reshape this universe and perhaps beyond.

–––––––––––––––––– ☆ TBC!! ☆

Hope ya'll liked it ♡ Leave a comment on whatya think!! next chapter will be from Mohawk's p.o.v Check back soon!(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Pt.2 ☆ Pt.3 ☆ Pt.4 ☆ Pt.5

[slutoru1207]

Mistaken Devotion – Part 5

Your Mark was losing.

For the first time since he got his powers, he wasn’t just fighting another version of himself—

He was fighting a version that had nothing left to lose.

Full-Mask Mark was relentless. Brutal.

And your Mark?

He was holding back.

You saw it. Felt it.

Every punch he threw wasn’t as ruthless as it should’ve been.

Every block wasn’t as calculated as it needed to be.

He was fighting like he still had something to come home to.

But Full-Mask Mark?

He was fighting like you were already his.

"You’re weak," the masked Mark snarled, driving his fist into your Mark’s ribs.

A sickening crack filled the room.

Your Mark choked, stumbling back—and that split-second hesitation was all it took.

In a flash, Full-Mask Mark had him by the throat, slamming him against the wall.

Your Mark gasped.

Your stomach dropped.

"You don’t deserve her," the masked Mark growled, voice low, dangerous, final. His grip tightened.

Your Mark gritted his teeth, struggling. His vision was blurring—his body aching—

And then—

His eyes flickered to you.

You.

Terrified. Frozen. Watching.

His entire world standing just feet away—

And another version of him trying to take it.

And in that moment—

Something snapped.

A rush of adrenaline exploded through his body.

With a snarl, your Mark grabbed Full-Mask Mark’s wrist—crushing it in his grip.

The masked Mark’s breath hitched.

But before he could react—

Your Mark moved.

His elbow rammed into his double’s ribs—hard.

The grip on his throat loosened.

And then—

He drove his knee into the imposter’s stomach.

A brutal, earth-shaking hit.

Full-Mask Mark **coughed—**staggering. His breath shuddered.

Your Mark didn’t let him recover.

He spun—fist slamming into his double’s jaw with enough force to send blood splattering across the floor.

The masked Mark’s head snapped to the side—his entire body reeling.

Your Mark stepped forward—relentless, furious, done.

"She’s mine."

The last punch was devastating.

The masked Mark crashed into the floor, gasping—dazed, disoriented, barely conscious.

Your Mark stood over him, panting, fists still clenched, body coiled with adrenaline and rage.

And then—

His eyes flicked to you.

Shaken. Wide-eyed. Safe.

His entire body softened.

A sharp inhale—then he was crossing the space between you.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, voice hoarse, worried, desperate.

You nodded—then threw yourself at him.

His arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you tight, pressing his face into your hair, like he was making sure—making sure—you were still here.

"I thought I lost you." His voice broke.

You shook your head, gripping him tighter.

"I’m right here."

His arms tightened.

But behind him—

The masked Mark stirred.

And this time—

He wasn’t alone.

A portal crackled open.

And more Marks stepped through.

[petorahs]

happy valentines! keep giving your rival applin-shaped chocolates till he gets it ❤️🍎❤️