#omniman & reader

[sp1der-wid0w]

guys.. i have a problem 🤦🏾‍♀️

[tamayakii]

a girls first love and heartbreak.

just some headcanons of Grayson daughter!reader life that i've had stashed in my brain for a little bit. This was heavily indulgent i am so sorry. Warnings: angst, depictions of a child being injured (the child is reader aka you), surgery, hematoma draining, broken fingers. Reader has powers but is way weaker than mark and nolan, think Oliver levels. mark and reader get beat senseless together <3 use of yn: once ((i use interactivefics to change this)) notes: written all in one go, forgive any errors

You know the line "Every girls first love is her father"? Well that describes you and Nolan to a T. You admired him deeply, always crying whenever he had to go away or staying up super late just to get a kiss goodnight.

Of course.. the counterpart to that phrase is "every girls first heartbreak is her father" but I don't wanna get TOO ahead of myself here!

For the first years of your life, you were treated fairly- hell even spoiled. Until bullies had made you their target in grade school when you were seven, they were older kids, and you desperately wanted their approval as they were the cool kids group ((in your eyes))

They never hit you, but they might as well had anyways. Their words were the first peak that the world wasn't as nice as your parents had made it out to be. Debbie was the first to catch onto this issue, and asking Mark gave her no answers, but she had noticed all too late, and by the time other people noticed your change, you had been worn down.

Debbie told Nolan one night after dinner, at first Nolan didn't believe it. Surely there was no way you were being bullied, you would've said something. He's your protector. ((he's still learning the ways of earth and humans,, sigh))

When he went to go tuck you into bed, he found that you had done it yourself. Even turning off the lamp which you had always left on, it was a silent communication that you were waiting for a good-night kiss.

Debbie has only ever seen Nolan cry two times. Both were at the birth of his children but that night, she could've sworn that he was just about to let the tears fall. They talk more extensively that night, making a plan. Nolan would take you out on a father-daughter date at the zoo, and Debbie would talk to the school about the bullying after dropping Mark off for the day.

You were so happy that day, squealing as you feed a giraffe some leaves, Nolan hanging onto you so you don't get lifted by the animal. Spending extra time looking at the zebras, cringing at the monkies as you quickly walk by.

When you made it to the reptile section, you marveled the creatures, pointing through the bars at a large and odd crocodile.

"look daddy- look!! It's a croc-ah-dile!" You hold his large hand, looking back at him to make sure he's looking but he's focused on something else, eyebrows furrowed.

"daddy!!" You whine, grabbing onto his wrist now, suddenly feeling neglected but just as fast as that feeling came, dread took over. The hairs rise on the back of your neck, a zip of eletricity runs up your spine as your eyes widen.

Screams begin to erupt, and an explosions burns your skin, blowing your tiny body into the crocodile exhibit. Nolan was shocked by the explosion, more than anything, if anything a bit peeved.

He heard the classic cackle of the Queen Lizard, his eyes widening as his nostrils flared. He looked back towards the source of the sound, dust and debris still flying in the air, making a thick fog across the zoo, he flexed his fists, a horrid realizition hits him.

you're not beside him.

He looks around, stepping over bodies as he yells your name, his toes meet an edge, where the bars of the exhibit once stood, now bent out of shape. He squints through the fog,

You were struggling under someone- pawing at their large arms, wind pipe being crushed under their hands. Everytime you tried to squirm, he pushed you down deeper into the ground, creating a hole under the both of you- the pressure builds behind your eyes, broken fingers trying to claw at the thick skin,

"da-da-" the words die in your throat as blood bubbles out of your mouth in a pathetic attempt of a cough.

Warmth paints your face and the hands choking you weaken, behind the monster ((the large and odd crocodile who was actually just a large and reptile-skinned man)) stood your father, there were no emotions on his face,

your eyes trail down and widen at the sight of your own fathers hand pierced through the monster, looking back up at the face of the attacker, he spits blood up on you before finallly going limp, hanging on the first of your father.

Nolan quickly throws the body aside, kneeling down by your side, fear gripping his heart. You were hurt, and bad.

He took you to a place where he knew you would be taken care of, no questions asked.

The GDA medical ward.

All i'm thinking of he doesn't have the decency to use doors, crashing down through the roof, holding your frail body as you cough blood up, screaming- NO, bellowing- for help.

Cecil's quickly informed of the newly developing situation just across the building. He had no idea omni-man was at the same zoo that the Lizard League just attacked. ((thank you prince lizard, it was one of ideas.))

You were hanging on deaths door, emerengcy surgery was performed to remove a piece of rebar from your torso, set your fingers back, and drained the hematomas forming in your brain.

It's easy to say that you weren't the same for a long long time after that.

You went through intense therapy, provided by the GDA, and hell- even met Cecil whilst in the hospital bed, you didn't really understand what he did or who he was, but you trusted him because he reassured your parents that you had the best doctors avaliable.

Mark doesn't really understand what happened, only a year or two older than you. He just knows you got hurt and that made him sad, and angry.

Your grades dropped drastically after coming home from the hospital, still attending therapy every week, they eventually switched you to online schooling which helped and also didn't.

Nolan started to baby you even more, treating you like glass. If you were clingy before, you were even worse now. You'd wake up with night terrors, screaming in pure horror, unable to communicate that you saw your dads fist driven through the mosnter every time you closed your eyes.

After a couple years, you became aware of how much of a burden you felt you were becoming, you felt.. broken. Debbie finally pulled the plug on online schooling, putting you back in public school.

You still were recluse but you finally befriended some people who also related to your reclusivity.

Also, you were still clingy. You would cuddle into Nolans side during movie night, and if he wasn't there, then it was Debbie or Mark. Your poor brother, he was often embarrassed when he had to hold your hand in public, enforced by your father of course.

You actually got your powers the summer before Mark got his powers, dad started to pay attention to you heavily but you didn't mind, you bloomed under his care. Though he discovered one thing, you were evidiently.. weaker.

He could barely push you to work harder on your powers without you crumbling under his gaze, running to your mother with tears running down your cheeks.

Despite that, you did start to come out of your shell, Debbie was so happy to see that after almost a decade, you were finally coming back to her as her the sunny child she knew a long time ago.

Then Mark got his powers and he began heroing, and that made you want to be one too but despite the training and the suit that was made for you, you couldn't keep up with your father and mark, so you happily became your mommys girl again. Letting her shower you even more with affection, making up for all the years that you had ducked away from it.

The events of season 1 happen of course, so lets time skip to the angstier parts.

When you woke up that day, you didn't expect to wake up to your mother kicking your father out of the house, and him actually listening- only to go through the roof instead. Almost tripping down the stairs with how fast you are as you rush to your moms side, following her as she grabs her phone- desperately trying to call Mark.

"Mom what's going on?" You followed after her pacing, gasping with her as men in dark suits just appeared out of thin air, guns pointing up at the hole your father created. You hide behind your mom as another Donald comes into view, he calls out for the both of you, insisting that you go with him.

Within the hour you find yourself at the GDA, the place that had been starting to become increasing familiar. You followed your mother closely, grasping at the back of her shirt.

Donald gestures, letting your mother towards the doors first- they slide open, revealing a cacophony of scrambling agents, all furiously typing and running across the room.

Your head starts to feel fuzzy as you step in, a lump forms in your throat. Looking at the big screen, you realize that theyre trakcing your father, a bit of hope flickers, maybe he's okay? maybe-

"Nolan killed the guardians of the globe."

Those words stop any sounds from reaching you, chest getting tight as you turn towards your mother. Watching her slap Cecil, angry at him as she speaks more but it was like there was a stone wall blocking any noise.

The next minutes are a blur as you look back at the screen, not registering your mother grabbing hold of your hand, you watch as he goes back to the house, only to realize that it was swarming with GDA agents. The scenes bring bile up to your throat, slapping a hand across your mouth to keep you from blowing chow on the back of some poor persons head.

You can only watch in horror as the same man that would toss you into the air like you were three at thirteen desecrate your childhood home with blood and guts, the same home where you fell asleep in his arms, the same room that you would learn to walk in.. the same house you grew up in.

Debbie quickly draws you into her arms, shielding your from the screen but it was too late. The noise of an explosion coming from the speakers of the room is your welcoming back into the world of hearing. Hugging yourself as you cry in your moms arms, you didn't know who your father was anymore.

You think that was bad? Now imagine watching your father slice through Immortal, you thought was dead, with a swipe of his hand. your throat goes dry as the image of him doing the same thing to that lizard league villian, the warm blood that splatter across your face. "What about mom? what about y/n?!" Mark cries out,

"Mark.. your sister.. she may need some time but she will join us, and your mother? she's more like a.. pet to me"

For a few helpless minutes, you watch as your father throws Mark around like a ragdoll. You've stepped away from Debbie, heart pounding, watching as your brothers tracker flies farther and farther, with your father not far behind.

Seeing your brother crash through multiple buildings in Chicago, creating a path of destruction is what made you desperate to stop this, to save your brother.

The chaos of the room covers your escape, and your absence is only noticed when it's too late.

"Sir? Where's.." Donald's words trail off and finally, Debbie notices that you're gone.. and she doesn't know for how long, the horror and dread that grasps at her body makes her freeze, unable to cry or make a sound. Her daughter was gone.

By the time you make it to Chicago, you just barely make the sight of Mark being thrown high up in the air, your dad flying after him. You fly after them, body straining to keep up and eventually you do, tackling your fathers side and throwing him off balance.

"dad! Please, stop this!" You plead with him as you spin around in the orange sky, looking up at him as your tears frame your cheeks, "please you can still stop!"

His eyes are bloodshot as he stares down at you, for a moment with no emotions before a sliver of remorse flickers in his eyes. "oh my sweet girl-"

in the distance Mark scream, speeding at Nolans back with his fist out right.

your father grabs the back of your neck, turning you both around towards mark- All in one fluid motion. Effectively using you as a shield,

Marks fist stops mere inches from your face, the silence makes your ears ring.

"Let her go." Mark growls but it's miserable, the blood making his voice gurgle.

"Mark.. mark.." All you can do is whimper as you struggle in your dads hold, hands reaching back and sinking your nails into his wrist. A sigh comes from Nolan, a truly annoyed sigh.

"You made me do this."

Neither you or Mark have the time to react as your father uses you as a weapon, reeling back and throwing you against Mark, punching your back and sending you both flying.

Now he treated you both as punching bags, flying back n forth, easily being able to hit you both back n forth- as if driving in the point that he's stronger and faster.

"I was wrong to raise you both as humans, i should've prepared you better, taught you more. Your lives have been soft and painless, your both viltrumites in blood only." He holds you both up by your collars, Mark pants heavily and you can barely do so with your multiple broken ribs. "well, your true educations start, now."

At some point as he flies you both to the surface, sonic booms thundering behind him, you black out.

You wake up at the bottom of the ocean, the air leaving your lungs as he slams you both into the ocean floor- you grab at your throat, water sucking into your lungs as your father floated there as if it didn't affect him one bit.

Just as quickly you and your brother met the surface of the sea, you were grabbed and flown out. Coughing up water as you grip onto your fathers shoulder, fingers bunching up the fabric of his suit.

"dad- dad stop!!" You plead but its interrupted as another scream rips through your throat as the sight of your dad throwing Mark into a mountain, you plead and beg with him as he floats down to your brother.

"dad, dad! Daddy-" His grip on you tightens, his head snapping to you. You're only allowed a second of regret before he, too, throws you.

barely holding onto the light, you watch as Nolan punches Marks limp body, triggering a land slide and as you expect to be buried under the snow too- your dad picks you up mere seconsd before it blankets you.

He handles you like a disgruntled mother cat, holding you by the back of your shirt, as he searches for your brother in the snow. You did as well, heart squeezing with fear as each limb that pokes out isnt your brothers.

Eventually, Mark is found, and still he found the power to resist your father.

"I'm ready when you are."

He uses your body once again as a weapon, seing you and Mark flying into another mountain range. You hear how marks ribs crack under your weight,

You roll off of your brother, grasping onto the earth, murmuring gentle cries for your mother. You yelp as your dad lands at the feet of you two, shaking the mountain with his power. You throw your hands up in surrendur, or.. at least the non-broken one. you give. You wave your metaphorical white flag.

His sights set on Mark, and all you can do is helplessly watch as your father beats your brother into a pulp as he screams at him. The crater deepening with each punch, soon Mark becomes unrecognizable- your sobs turn animalistic, your unable to move your broken legs, the words your father uses breaks your heart more- as if it could be. You were nothing to him. just a pawn in his long drawn out game,

After awhile, Nolan stops before dropping to Marks side, laying inbetween you and Mark, breathing deeply as he composes himself. As he stands back up, you prepare for more, you realize that your brother will die before your eyes.

"Why did you make me do this?!" Nolan screams, "You are fighting so you can watch everyone around you die! Think mark," his words make you flinch, his voice ragged- "you will outlast every fragile insignicant being on this planet, you'll live to see this planet crumble to dust and blow away!"

You start to quietly sob again, watching as Mark doesn't stand back up this time,

"Everything and everyone you know will be gone! What will you have after 500 years?!"

"you, dad." Mark manages to murmur, "i'd still have you." Mark gurgles in pain, eyes swollen shut- "Dad?"

You watch as your father winces in pain, fighting with himself as he looks at the blood on his hands.. the blood of his children.

Then he's gone.

Silence is all that surronds you and for awhile, you wait for your dad to return, thinking he was climbing in altitude solely to finsih you both off with one spectacular punch.

Execpt he doesn't.

With pain sobs and whimpers, you manage to shuffle closer to mark, reaching out with your good hand to wipe his tears away. He lets out a wet cough,

"Marky.." You whisper, teeth gritting as you try to fight the next sob, " it's okay.. i'm right here.." your voice is raw from the screams, you lay your head on his chest tenderly, arm draping across his waist, as him trying to be his shield.

Eventually you both lose conciousness but as your eyes flutter shut for what you believe is the last time, you swear you feel a hand grasp your shoulder.

You wake up again in the hospital, body aching as the bright lights sting your eyes. As you try to look away, you catch glimpse of Mark who was also in a bed besides you, but the stinging pain in your neck makes you cry out.

"Shh, shh!" Your mother reaches out for you, "don't talk.. You're safe." She watches as you reach out for Mark, arm shaking as tears fill your eyes.

"It's okay, sweetie, he's okay." She presses her lips to your forehead as you start to cry, she gathers your outreached hand in hers, interlocking your fingers as she comforts you.

You look at your mom, through bruised eyesockets, your lips wobble as the tears sting your cheek.

It's like a decade had never passed, and you were still seven, stuck in the GDA hospital.

holy fuck i dont know where this came from. I might write some fluffier headcanons, but i had to to get the angst out of my system.

Let me know if you want more, like my idea on readers relationship with Cecil since she met him when she was seven and she go ther powers first. ehe lol maybe some tabbo old man stuff I DUNNO THO let me know

[jayden-killer]

INVINCIBLE × READER HEADCANONS .ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ

A/N: ik that in the pic is Invinciboy, but still..it's Mark🫡

☆

You two met at the same university thanks to a group project. He was a little shy at first, but then warmed up and made jokes, and this ended with you and him exchanging phone numbers.

Sometimes, he disappears out of nowhere from class, and you wonder where he goes. Then– oh, look, it's Invincible!

Both of you get very close as time passes, and finally decide to make it official!

He won't let you meet his dad. No. You're not gonna convince him.

On the other hand, it would be a yes to his mom and Oliver!!

About his little brother, he adores you. He sees you as another sibling figure; when you stay at Mark's, you'll end up playing Mario Kart with Oliver for.. hours.

Anyways, his mom adores you and teases Mark even in your presence.👀

Your relationship isn't easy. I'm going to be realistic now.

Mark makes sure you stay safe while he does his Invincible/Invinciboy work, assuring you he'll return home safe, but you need to stay inside of your house if there's a major calamity out there.

Sometimes his superhero works takes him out lots of energies and time. That means you won't spend a lot of time together. And that makes you upset. Because he deserves to be normal for fucking once.

He's very into PDA once you two reach a good point in your relationship + he'll tell you about his fucked up experiences with his dad, Omni-Man. If he does any of those things, oh he trusts you.

Bonus: you're scared at first, but he then convinces you to let him hold you while he flies in the high sky. You almost puked on him, too afraid, but also excited.

Never done that again.

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

Pt.5

Guys, I'm cooked. Anyways, thank you for all the kind words!!! Also Y/n's cooked too...anyways! Enjoy!

ALSO!! EVERYONE THANK @oof-spoof!! THIS SERIES IS NOW BASICALLY DEDICATED TO THEM!!! Thank you @oof-spoof for supporting me!

The group fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your words sinking in as if the world itself had pressed down on your shoulders. It wasn’t just about stopping Omni-Man and Invincible or sending that crucial tip to the Guardians of the Globe—it was about surviving long enough to make any of it matter.

The irrefutable fact lingered in the back of everyone’s mind, unspoken but looming: you might be killed again.

Your stomach churned at the thought, the memory of your father’s hand crushing your skull replaying in vivid, excruciating detail. The sound, the pressure, the blinding pain—it haunted you in ways you couldn’t even articulate. And if not that, then what? Would it be a more horrific death this time? Burned alive? Torn apart?

You looked around the table, the same realization written on the faces of your friends. Hallie was biting her lip, staring blankly at the table as her fingers drummed nervously. Connor’s jaw was clenched, his fists curled tightly on his lap. Weston was silent, his expression unreadable, but his tired eyes betrayed him.

Finally, Weston broke the silence. “I’ll figure out how to send the tip,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute. His gaze shifted between each of you before landing back on his hands. “You guys focus on keeping our… other obligation in check.”

Shit. You’d completely forgotten about the Demogorgons. Those damn things hadn’t been on your radar for the past few days, but they were still out there, roaming the town, lurking in shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Judging by the groans and sighs from Connor and Hallie, they’d forgotten too.

“Everyone still has their things, right?” you asked, already mentally cataloging what you had at home.

Hallie sat up straighter, brushing her hair out of her face. “Got my pump action and bolt action in my trunk and in my closet,” she said, her voice steadier than her posture.

Connor leaned back, rubbing his temples. “Got ammo and a G-48, Haymitch's axe, and the machete,” he listed off, his tone bordering on exhaustion.

“I still have the smoke bombs and my dad’s rifle he thinks he sold,” Weston added, his voice low but firm.

You nodded, storing the information away. “Good. We’ll need all that and more.”

The silence that followed was thick with understanding. You’d fought these monsters before. You’d survived the impossible. But this time, it wasn’t just about survival. It was about holding the line, balancing the dual threats of the Demogorgons and the looming Viltrumite takeover.

"I say we prepare for the worst," you finally say, your voice cutting through the silence. "Stock up on ammo when you can, supplies, canned food, and whatever else we’ll need. We have to be ready in case everything goes to shit again, in case… in case what we do doesn’t work—"

“Don’t.” Connor’s voice cuts you off, sharp and sudden. “Don’t say that, (Y/n).”

You flinch at the rawness in his voice, the sheer force of his words.

“Connor—” you start, but he barrels forward, his frustration spilling over like a dam breaking.

“It has to work!” he says, his voice trembling. “It has to, or else—” He looks away, jaw tight, his hands clenching into fists. “Or else that means we fought for nothing. That means all those people who died—who are going to die—died for nothing. That means we came back for nothing.”

His words hang in the air, raw and painful. You feel them hit you like a punch to the gut.

Your lips press together tightly as you try to find something—anything—to say. Connor was always the "strong" one of the group, the silent type, the brash one who rarely let anyone see how deeply he felt things. He was the backbone, the shoulder everyone else could lean on when things got tough. Seeing him like this, unraveling, hurts more than you want to admit.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Connor,” you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No, I’m sorry,” he mutters, his eyes watery as he scrubs at his face with the back of his hand. His voice cracks slightly as he continues, “You—you’re just doing what you always do, trying to keep us alive. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, Con,” you say quickly, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “I—I get it. Really, I do.”

The tension around the table is palpable. Hallie and Weston exchange uneasy glances, their worry for Connor evident in the grim lines of their faces.

“Connor,” Hallie starts gently, her voice low and careful, “nobody’s saying what happened before will happen again, but—”

“I know,” he cuts her off, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. He lets out a shaky breath and sinks back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know. But we have to consider the high chance it will.”

The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the thought of failing—of going through all of it again—was unbearable.

But you didn’t have a choice.

You glanced at each of them in turn, taking in their tired faces, the fear lingering in their eyes. They were your family, your only anchor in a world that felt increasingly impossible to navigate.

“We’ll make it work,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the storm inside you. “I don’t know how yet, but we will.”

You don’t know if they believe you, and honestly, you’re not even sure if you believe yourself. 

Weston’s hand comes to rest on Connor’s shoulder, rubbing little circles in that gentle, soothing way he always did to calm the group down. It was such a Weston thing to do—he had always been physical with his care and affection, expressing his love in small touches and gestures that reminded you all you weren’t alone. You see Connor’s shoulders relax just slightly under Weston’s touch, though the tension doesn’t completely leave him.

You shift closer, moving to sit beside Connor, offering your silent presence as support. Across the table, Hallie slides her water bottle toward him, her brow furrowed in worry. “Here,” she says softly. Her voice doesn’t waver, but her eyes betray the depth of her concern. Connor takes the bottle with a small, muttered “thanks,” and sips from it, his gaze distant.

The weight of the moment settles over all of you, thick and suffocating. No one says anything for a while, and for a brief moment, the only sound is the distant hum of chatter from other tables in the courtyard.

Then the lunch bell rings, cutting through the stillness like a knife, signaling it’s time to go back to class. The sound sends a jolt through you, and you see the same dread reflected in everyone’s faces. None of you want to go. Yet, there was nothing you could do.

You all stand reluctantly, gathering your things in silence. Before you split up, you squeeze Connor’s shoulder gently, hoping it conveys what you can’t find the words to say. He offers a faint smile.

You walk into the crowded hallway, your mind scrambling as you try to recall your next class. What was it? You swear you knew just minutes ago, but now the information is gone, like a wisp of smoke slipping through your fingers.

You glance around desperately, hoping to recognize a familiar face, someone who might share the class with you. But the sea of students around you is a blur of faces you barely recognize. Who the hell are these people? You don’t remember their names, their voices, their stories. They’re strangers, even though you know you should know them.

Panic creeps up your spine as you weave through the hall, your breathing growing shallow. You’re losing it. You’re losing yourself, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The realization claws at you, sharp and unrelenting.

You hate this. You hate what this world, what this second chance, has reduced you to. What it’s reduced all of you to.

Your hands tremble as you tighten your grip on your bag, willing the shaking to stop, but it doesn’t. You pass classrooms, peeking inside, hoping something will click—a desk, a teacher, a face. But nothing does.

The hallways start growing emptier as students file into their classrooms, the bustling energy fading into a deafening quiet. You glance around, the panic tightening in your chest. Where the hell were you supposed to go?

Your mind scrambles, trying to latch onto something—anything—that will tell you your next class. The answer eludes you, slipping through your fingers like sand. You fumble with your phone, attempting to log into your student portal. At least that would show your schedule, right?

Except the password isn’t auto-saved. Of course, it isn’t.

You sit there staring at the login screen, willing your brain to remember your credentials, but nothing comes. It’s just another blank void. Great. Now you can’t even see your schedule, let alone your grades. Not that grades should be at the top of your concerns right now, but still, the thought gnaws at the back of your mind. You’re so screwed.

You lean against a row of lockers, the cold metal biting into your back as you let out a frustrated sigh. What the hell do I do now? Asking the front desk for help is out of the question. It’s the middle of the school year, and no one forgets their schedule this far in. It would raise questions. And why couldn’t you just look it up yourself? The idea of facing that judgment makes you cringe.

No, you can’t do that.

Instead, you resign yourself to staying in a random, empty hallway, slumping down against the wall. The quiet envelops you, a brief respite from the overwhelming noise in your head. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the silence settle around you. God, you didn’t realize how much your eyes were burning, how much your body ached.

The idea of just staying here, hidden and still, is so tempting. Maybe you could just chill here for a while. Yeah, that sounded nice. Just a little break.

You don’t realize how much time passes as you sit there, your mind drifting between the chaos of your thoughts and the exhaustion weighing you down. For a brief moment, you feel the smallest sliver of peace.

Until a voice shatters it.

“Playing hooky, (Y/n)?”

Your stomach drops. No. Not him. Not now.

Mark’s voice carries that unmistakable mix of smugness and sharpness, the tone that always made you want to squirm. “Tch, Mom and Dad are not going to be happy. Especially after the last meeting your counselor had about your little habit of skipping classes.”

You open your eyes, and there he is, standing over you with a smirk that makes you want to curl in on yourself. His eyes bore into yours, sharp and calculating, as if he’s dissecting you piece by piece.

“W-what? When did—oh shit,” you stammer, the memory hitting you like a brick. He’s talking about the meeting. You’d skipped a bunch of classes last semester to deal with the Demogorgons. Sure, you kept your grades up, but that didn’t stop the school from calling your mom. And to say she was upset was an understatement.

Mark’s smirk widens as he watches the realization dawn on your face. “Ah, there it is,” he says mockingly, leaning against the wall. “I’m sure Mom will love hearing about this. You know how she feels about second chances.”

You glare at him, the panic in your chest now mixed with frustration. “Mark, I—look, just don’t. Please.”

His expression softens, but only slightly. There’s still that edge to his voice, that unnerving mix of concern and menace. “Don’t what? Tell her? You’re not making this easy, you know. Skipping class, hiding out like this… It’s like you want her to freak out.”

“I just—” You falter, your words failing you. The exhaustion, the stress, the sheer overwhelming nature of everything—it’s all too much. You can’t think of a good excuse, and Mark’s gaze feels like it’s cutting through every lie you might try to tell.

He crouches down, leveling his eyes with yours. “What’s going on with you, (Y/n)?” he asks, his voice softer now but no less piercing. “You’ve been off. I know you’re not telling me everything.”

You look away, unable to meet his gaze.

Mark’s words linger in the air like a trap, waiting for you to fall in. “Are you depressed or something? Maybe it’s a boy? I don’t know, (Y/n), but something’s off. I know it is,” he says, his tone dripping with faux concern. “Just tell me. Tell your big brother, and I can make it go away.”

The irony of it all hits you like a freight train, and you can’t help it—you huff, then giggle, and then it all spirals out of control. A laugh bubbles out of you, wild and uncontainable, quickly escalating into full-blown hysterics. You’re wheezing now, clutching your sides, and you know you must look insane. Maybe you are. How could you not be?

It’s funny, really. The idea that he, Mark, could fix your problems. That he could “make it go away.” It’s laughable because a massive chunk of your problems is sitting right in front of you, watching you unravel with that same calculating smirk. How utterly absurd.

Your laughter devolves into choked breaths as your chest tightens painfully. The tears come next, hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks. You’re sobbing now, loud and ugly, your body shaking uncontrollably.

Mark’s expression shifts, surprise flickering in his eyes. Then something darker takes hold—something intrigued, almost amused. He wasn’t expecting this, but oh, was he glad. He leans in closer, his lips curling into a softer smile. There was something seriously wrong with you. He knew it now. And that knowledge only made him more eager to figure out what had happened to his weak, adorable little sister.

“Oh, (Y/n),” he coos, his voice deceptively sweet as he cups your cheek with his large, warm hand. His thumb brushes against your tear-streaked skin, wiping away the evidence of your breakdown. His touch is firm but gentle, an unnerving mix of comfort and control.

You try to flinch away, your instincts screaming at you to get out of his grasp, but your body betrays you. Exhausted and overwhelmed, you slump into his hand, your head tilting slightly as if seeking solace. You hate it. You hate yourself for it. But you’re only human, and his warmth feels like the only anchor keeping you from completely spiraling.

“St-stop this,” you choke out between sobs, your voice barely audible. “Puh-please.”

Mark tilts his head, his expression almost mockingly innocent. “Stop what, (Y/n)?” he asks softly, his voice laced with feigned confusion.

“This,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “This—what you—you’re doing. Please, it—it isn’t fair.”

His hand doesn’t move from your cheek, and his thumb continues its slow, deliberate motion, wiping away fresh tears as they fall. His smile softens further, but his eyes remain sharp, predatory.

“Fair?” he echoes, as if tasting the word. “Oh, (Y/n). Life isn’t fair. You know that.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “But you don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to worry about anything. That’s what I’m here for.”

You shake your head weakly, your sobs growing quieter but no less intense. “You—”

He interrupts you gently, his voice soothing but utterly condescending. “Shh. Just let me take care of you.”

The words send a chill down your spine, the weight of his intent pressing down on you. You know there’s no escaping him now, not when he’s latched onto you like this. Not when he’s decided you’re his problem to solve, his little sister to protect—even if it means breaking you further in the process.

Mark’s gaze lingers on your trembling form, his hand still cradling your cheek. He studies you with a mix of curiosity and calculation, the wheels turning in his mind as he contemplates your place in all of this. Maybe he could make something useful out of you. Maybe you could be shaped into something worthy of the Viltrumite cause.

But as he takes in your tear-streaked face, the way your body shakes beneath his touch, he doubts it. You’re too weak. Too small. Too soft.

It’s almost pathetic how fragile you are, how human you are.

Still, the thought lingers—what if? What if you could prove yourself? What if, against all odds, you showed even the slightest potential? Perhaps then he could convince their father to keep you after the takeover. It would be difficult, of course. Nolan had little patience for weakness, and you were the embodiment of everything the Viltrumite race despised. But if you somehow managed to prove your worth, there was a chance.

Mark’s lips curve into a faint smile, the thought of sparing you for his mother’s sake bringing him a strange sense of satisfaction. You weren’t ideal offspring, no, far from it. But you were her daughter. Debbie would appreciate having you around, he’s sure of it, especially when their father inevitably takes her away from Earth to shield her from the chaos of their conquest.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Mark murmurs, his voice low and smooth. His thumb pauses for a moment, pressing lightly against your cheekbone as his eyes bore into yours. “If it weren’t for Mom, I wouldn’t even consider giving you a chance. But maybe… maybe you’ll surprise us.”

You blink at him, your chest tightening as his words sink in. “A-a chance? Mark, what are you—”

He cuts you off, his smile widening slightly, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’ll see,” he says cryptically, pulling his hand away and standing to his full height. His shadow looms over you, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’re shrinking under his gaze.

“Just remember, (Y/n),” he adds, his tone shifting to something colder, more deliberate. “This world isn’t kind to people like you. But you’re lucky to have me. I’ll make sure you don’t get left behind.”

The words feel like a promise and a threat all at once, leaving you frozen in place as he turns and walks away, his presence lingering long after he’s gone.

You’re left alone in the empty hallway, your breaths shaky and uneven, the weight of his intentions pressing down on you like a vice. Lucky, he said. But you don’t feel lucky. You feel trapped. And no amount of tears can wash that feeling away.

You sit there, slumped against the wall, trying to process what the hell Mark was talking about. “If it weren’t for Mom?” What does that even mean? Why would she have anything to do with whether Mark decided to “give you a chance?” What kind of chance was he even talking about?

Your mind spirals as you try to make sense of his cryptic words, the unease clawing at your insides. The idea that your mother somehow factored into whatever twisted plans Mark had for you only made the knot in your stomach tighten. What was he planning? What did he mean by not getting left behind?

Your thoughts race, one question bleeding into the next as panic wells up inside you. You can’t piece it together. You don’t have enough information. But the way he looked at you—the cold calculation behind his eyes, the way his words felt like a threat wrapped in false care—it makes your skin crawl.

You bury your face in your hands, your breathing shallow as your mind loops through the interaction. What the hell is going on?

Meanwhile, Mark is on his way out of the school building, his phone already in hand. He dials the familiar number, his expression cool and composed. The phone rings only twice before the unmistakable voice of his father, Nolan, answers.

“What is it?” Omni-Man’s voice is gruff, direct, as always.

Mark leans against the wall outside, his tone calm but tinged with a quiet urgency. “It’s about (Y/n),” he begins, cutting straight to the point. “There’s something off with her. More than usual.”

On the other end of the line, Nolan sighs. His voice is bored, disinterested. “Mark, your sister has always been like this. Emotional and a bit erratic. It’s nothing new.”

Mark clenches his jaw but keeps his tone steady. “No, Dad, this is different. She’s acting weird—like, really weird. Come’on, I’m sure you’ve noticed how she’s stopped constantly asking to go out with us? Or how everytime she looks at one of us, her heart rate always increases, hell, I could smell the adrenaline rush that gets triggered.”

Nolan’s silence stretches for a moment. “Dad, why is she having a fight or flight, fear response triggered, huh?”

“Of course I’ve noticed, Mark,” Omni-man sighs out. “If it’s worth worrying about, I’ll handle it. But until then, she’s just…” He pauses, and Mark can practically see the look on his father’s face. “She’s still a human.”

Mark exhales sharply, but he doesn’t argue. He knows better than to push Nolan when he’s like this. “Fine,” he says, his voice tight. “But if I find out something important, I’ll let you know.”

“Do that,” Nolan replies curtly, and the line goes dead.

Mark slips his phone back into his pocket, his expression unreadable. He’s not entirely satisfied with his father’s response, but he’s also not surprised. Nolan has never had much patience for what he considers “mundane human nonsense.” If (Y/n)’s behavior didn’t involve anything worthy of the Viltrumite cause, it simply wasn’t a priority to him.

Still, Mark can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than his father realizes. And if Nolan won’t take it seriously, then Mark will.

[marksbear2]

Omni man x male reader!! And could it please be nsfw headacanons? I love you so much and your one of my fav writers ever

Omni-man (Nolan Grayson) x Switch Male Reader

⚠️Warnings!— Both Reader and Nolan are switches, teasing, public sex kink, rough Sex, choking, quickie, face fuck, flying, and more!⚠️

— You’ll be the first ever man he’s been with. But he’s pretty arrogant so he thinks having sex with you would be the same as having sex with a woman, oh boy he was so wrong.

— One of the first things you taught him was how to give a blowjob. He lets you guide him through it as he held the end of your cock with his hand. As he went down further on your cock he kept eye contact not breaking for a second.

— After a few more tries of sucking you off he takes your cock to the base. He likes being in charge making sure you don’t thrust your hips or try to push his head away or down.

— He hates getting a facial, his face would be turned to the side with his eye close as your load painted his face.

— But whenever your face fucking him he’ll have his head tilt back letting you go relentlessly at him. Or even laying on his back and letting you fuck his throat that way. His tongue would be swirly and gulping around your cock. The only time he gags or chokes is when you cum in his throat without a warning. He’ll be quick to spit it out and pull away. But whenever you force him to swallow every last drop his gaze would be filled with lust and also annoyance.

— Sloppy kisses with you all the time during sex. His mouth would be latched onto your throat trailing up until he reached your ear or lips. Lapping his tongue around your face until it finds its way back in your mouth. Whenever you two are kissing he’ll be fucking you even harder.

— He last forever in bed, so usually you two are going at it for however long you can take it/handle it or stopping whenever he has to go do hero things. The last time you tried going as long as he last you ultimately tapped out since it was going on for hours position after position location to location.

— Very dominant and controlling in bed. He knows exactly what he wants and expects you to follow orders.

— But he loved getting put in his place. He’ll be pathetic moaning and grunting out your name. His breath would be shaking begging you to fuck him harder and faster.

— He’s into restraints and choking, one time he immediately came on accident when you suddenly started to choke him.

— You two having quickies often is normal since Nolan is always off handling business or training mark. When you two actually have time for sex and not just a quickie it could last hours as he has high stamina.

— Him having very sensitive nipples so you pinch and tease them while he’s fucking a fleshlight basically milking him. You two also share sex toys as well.

— He has a public sex kink, he’s too possessive to let anyone actually see you two doing it but sometimes when it’s night he’ll holding you over a city fucking you in the air while still in his hero suit. Or having you fuck him in a middle of an alleyway. Just having you take him anywhere and time arouses him.

— Very clingy when’s he’s bottoming. He’ll want you close as possible. Holding onto your back and shoulders while having his leg spread letting you have your way with his hole. He’d be mumbling all sorts of things under his breath while you fuck him.

— He also enjoys taking it from the back. Having you fuck him in the kitchen both of you in a rush as you could be walked in on any time. His head will be on the counter, his pants and boxers down to his ankles while you fuck him. His cum landing onto the bottom cabinet of the kitchen.

— Him riding you for hours, he’ll treat you as his own toy dildo. Even as your cock slips out of his hole from how much cum you have buried inside of him. He’ll arch his back reaching down to you and lower himself down on it.

— He has a habit of pinning your face against any surface when fucking you. It’s almost as a power play as he fucked his cock in and out of you. He also wants you to be very vocal. He couldn’t care if the neighbors or his son can’t get any peace and quiet because of you two. He wants to hear every sound of pleasure you make.

— A lot of “I’m sorry” sex between the two of you. Whenever you’re upset at him, whenever having sex he’ll be more tender and sweet to you. While in missionary he’ll press a kiss to you with every thrust wanting to coax you into forgiving him. And whenever that doesn’t work he’ll offer his hole to you. And if you accept the offer while you fuck him his fingers will comb through your hair whispering sweet nothings and words of affirmation.

— Really into overstimulation. Seeing you get all needy and spent after cumming so many times it boost his ego. He’ll let out a chuckle as he listen to your whiny protest about no more as he sinks down onto your cock milking your cum with his hole or mouth.

— He will have your head in between his flexing biceps as he thrust very roughly inside of you. He also likes giving and receiving dirty talk.

— You two having sex while he’s still in his hero suit. He could just arrived home and already wanting to pounce on you like a dog.

— When he’s needy like that, he doesn’t even care about getting undressed and wants you to take him right there and then. When your fucking him he asks (command) you to pull his cape to force his body to go down on your cock.

— Has a weird interest in seeing you just jerk off or finger yourself. He actually becomes feral if you’re jerking off to a video of him or to anything he owns. And joins right next to you.

— He sometimes randomly gets on top of you and make you pull your shirt off to give himself a boo job with your pecs, or randomly touches your face with his cock until you open your mouth and suck him off.

— Very possessive. He has subtitle ways of marking his claim on you like by leaving marks on your neck and any exposed area. He also cums on your face a lot. He’d paint you with his cum while also mumbling compliments under his breath watching you clean off his cock with his tongue.

— You two definitely broke the bed multiple times. It’s mostly whenever Nolan’s on top and he’s accidentally going to fast and rough without realizing it. And when you two stop and stare at each other for a moment, he will quickly snap his hips back to fucking you ignoring your protest to stop.

— One of his favorite intimate positions is cuddling while fucking.

— Listening to your soft grunts and words of praise in his ear turns him extremely on. His body will be arch into yours giving you easy access. He wants every inch of you beared inside of him, and even asks for more whenever your balls deep showing how needy he is.

— Especially after a long day, having you spoon him from behind while also driving your cock in and out of him. Even when he knows he’s seconds from falling asleep he allows you to keep going.

— Breeding kink.

THE END

[d-u-c-k-a-s-i-c-k]

Thinking about Nolan, and how he sees affection as meaningless. At least until his S/O is running their fingers through their hair and he likes it?

-

Normally he would’ve brushed them off, took a shower, and went to bed. That’s how they would do it in Viltrum.

But he couldn’t deny how he likes feeling his beloved fuss and flutter over him, cleaning up small cuts he didn’t even realise he sustained. They were a great cook, and the stew they made him? Just for him? It was heavenly.

What he still needed to get used to, was… the cuddling.

It was pointless in his eyes, but when they were curled up against him, checking his temp with a gentle press of their hand to his forehead, the soft nuzzle of their nose into the cleft of his neck, it felt… nice.

Not that he would say it.

Out loud.

The first time they did it, he caught their wrist in a split second, thinking they were going to stab his head with a hidden dagger. But all he found was their fingers twitching, trying to reach the soft strands of his hair.

“Babe… please? I just… I wanna comb your hair back. Don’t you trust me?”

That damned pout had his mouth set in a hard line before he lets out a disgruntled grumble. “Fine.”

Now, his head is in their lap, their fingers reaching closer to his head.

This is it. They’ll snap his neck, and he would’ve been the dumbest Viltrumite born if he did die this way. That’s the Viltrumite way, that’s how they did it back in Vil-

But then he just felt the gentle combing through his soft strands, their nails raking just nicely into his scalp as they combed his hair back.

He relaxed almost instantly, his heightened breaths slowing down and evening out, his eyes trained on his beloved’s pretty hues.

“There. Feels nice, right?”

“Mm.”

[midnightshindig]

So I'm not sure if your requests are open, so feel free to ignore this

Could I have a magical girl reader with nolan? You know those memes where the most powerful thing in media is friendship, so why not have the embodiment of friendship take revenge for her friends

Like maybe they were even buddy buddy themselves

You can decide if this is like a romantic type setting or not, along with if she kills him or not

Nolan & Magical Girl! Reader

since magical girls are usuaully (although NOT always!!) High schoolers, I decided it would be a conflict of interest for there to be romance, but dw I gotchu!

I just watched the pilot for "I dont' want to be a magical girl" (GOOOOO watch it if you haven't the VA is hilarious and the animatic is so good and comedy is punctual as hell) so that might influence this a little

hcs under the cut!

"Nolaaannnn!!" You come barreling at him, tackling him into a hug

You're older than your title would suggest, being in your mid twenties by now

but you've been doing this magical girl shit since you were fourteen, so don't underestimate you!

Either way, this prlongued career introduced you to Nolan, the batman to your sailor moon

It's giving "I think we have to kill this guy, Y/n." "Aw shucks...."

This has been the dynamic of your friendship for the last five or so years, meeting through a kaiju battle on the sea bordering Japan.

Since then the two of you regularly team up when he's in your part of the world

He won't lie, he finds your bright and bubbly nature charming

plus I mean come on, Magic Magic Starship beam? hilarious.

Your magic comes from a magical mascot and its all super cute and whatever

Nolan doesn't like it

and it doesn't like Nolan.

And it won't tell you why it doesn't like Nolan, just that he seems too familiar

But who cares!! You two have fun, he's a good fighter, plus, you're pretty sure you're breaking through to him

"Power of friendship? That's where your power comes from?" He asks incredulously, taking a bite of his burger as the two of you fly around Japan

"Mmmhm!" You beam back at him "I know it sounds corny, but it's true. The power generated due to human connection and community is what gives me my abilities. It's a very powerful thing, you know, friendship." You took a sip of your milkshake, shifting to be flying on your back lazily "I think our friendship is my favorite, though."

Nolan coughed "us? Friends? I'm sorry Y/n but I don't have friends."

"Ugh this again- Omniman come onnnnn you and me are best buds! Get over yourself and let me love youuuu" You tease, squishing your cheeks together dramatically

Nolan rolls his eyes, finishing of his burger and dropping the wrapper into the sky "Race you to Shibuya? I'm picking up Sushi for my wife for dinner, special request, she likes a restaurant there."

You roll your eyes back, with a smile "Yeaahhhh sure, but if I win you have to buy me some too!!"

He grins, knowing it won't happen "Okay- Go!"

You've already started, but It won't matter

he's stronger and faster than you'll ever be

This doesn't matter much, though, and you keep fighting together

culminating in one particular fight with a particularly evil space princess

"Oh god not this bitch..." you mutter under your breath, before tightening your grip on your magic wand

"Friend of yours?" Nolan asks, approaching from the other side of the world "I was in the area" he lies

you can tell, but choose not to say anything

"Yeah, she's like convinced she'd my sister and wants me to help her take over the Earth."

Nolan's ears prick up at this

Take over the Earth?

Not on his watch.

He allows you to fight the woman for an extended period of time, staying benched until it appears the woman might kill you

"It was good knowing you, Y/n. I wish you could've joined my side..." her own magical beam charges, aimed at your head

and Nolan panics a little

He could easily kill her after she kills you

it would save him the effort of having to kill you himself later

but the pang in his heart won't let him, and before he knows it, he's got the space princess by the throat, flying so fast he breaks the sound barrier into space

Once out of earshot, he pulls the princess close "The Earth isn't yours to conquer. And if you ever come back, or lay your hands on Y/n again, I will fucking kill you and your entire people."

He returns to Earth to check on you, finding you right where he left you

"Awwwww you big sap, you worried about me!" You beam up at him, as he carries you to a hospital

"Of course not, don't be silly."

"Oh cmonnnnn we're friends after all!"

He sighs a deep, reluctant sigh "Yeah, okay. You're right, I'm your friend."

"and I'm yourrsssssssss" You grinned, loopy from the pain

"Yeah... sure." Nolan relented "I'm your friend."

It's a couple years later, and you're pushing twenty eight when Nolan tries to take over the world

You'd been retired for a year or two at this point, but how could you sit at home and watch this happen?

Ugh- you'd even need the support of your old teammates, who you called frantically

thankfully, they saw the news and had the same idea

So a five person magical girl group of late 20's women go to help Mark as they make their way to the scene of the fight

Well it doesn't matter because Nolan CRASHES right into your crew, Mark under him as the two fight

"Okay ladies, lend me your strength!"

"Wait, Y/n did we just come here so you can power u-"

"YES MEI NOW LEND ME YOUR STRENGTH-!" You grit out with a smile

"okay, jesus...."

So you like smile magic princess baja blast the shit out of Nolan, which only serves to get his attention

"Y/n? What are you doing here? Get out of here!" He yelled, venom in his voice and blood (not his own) dripping off of his face and fists

"Not until you stop being an asshole, Omniman!"

"IM SERIOUS Y/N GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE."

You glared at him "IM serious, stop now."

He stood up, holding Mark down with his foot as he faced you "You don't want to do this."

He wasn't leaving you much of a choice "You're right," tears welled in your eyes "I don't."

Taking your magical wand in your hands, you began to twirl it, the girls on your team recognizing the move with deadly perception. You'd only used it once.

The air around you began to swirl into a vortex, the girls on your team funneling behind you to avoid the blast

You could only hope it missed the boy.

"I CAST: MAGIC OF FRIENDSHIP-"

(god Idk how to write action bear with me)

and it NUKES The guy.

NUUUUUUKES THE GUY

Nolan? Dead. BONES.

You descend to ground level, pulling the-- thankfully alive-- Mark from the rubble

"Hey- thank you. Uhm.... fuck..." Mark is bloody and bruised and barely able to talk, close to passing out

you pull Mark up, carrying him like how Nolan carried you, to the hospital.

It's a bittersweet memory...

I guess you weren't friends after all.

[serensho]

late night invincible thoughts… imagine mark grayson as hercules with a megara!reader in an ancient greek au…thinking so many thots…

[thesoggyraincloud]

Treasonous

Omni-Man ( Nolan Grayson) x OFC / Cecil Stedman x OFC (Platonic)

Oneshot- What if a rebellious half Viltrumite arrived on earth?

---------------------

He's coming

The relentless onslaught of wind and rain slashed across her skin, drowned out only by the roaring sound thundering through her head. Desperately reaching out for anything solid, her flailing arms threw her off balance, sending her into an uncontrollable spin. A scream cutting into the vast unknown as she was thrown in circles, sending blood rushing through her skull. Agony re-awaked in her chest at the force of entry on the small planet, quickly subduing to panic and fear.

Gripping desperatly onto control, her eyes wildly searching for the impending ground. The air ripped at her, sending her hair in a flurry and blocking her vision. Her stomch flipped over, jaw gritting down to stop the vomiting rising in her throat. Buildings materialized from the gray haze inch by inch as she spun towards land, attempting to vear towards the moonlit river. Until...

SMASH.

She hated proving herself right sometimes.

Forcing the last of her power into keeping herself afloat aganst gravity's pull, energy which she didnt have to spare in her weakened state. Tension in her stomach muscles flexed around at the metal lodged in her side. She vomited red blood. Splattering it over her stained sleeve.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Tiran!” Her voice, hoarse and barely audible above the raging storm, echoed into the abyss.

“You need to come home,” The sound cut through the tempest, sending agony through the ache in her side.

“I will not!” Her voice screamed, fear repleninshing her lost gusto. She threw herself backward into him with a sick thud as the metal debris cut futher in.

Slamming her head into his jaw, she grasped at him desperately, pulling his bloody arm into her grip and twisting it with all her might. Flesh pulling and spewing through her long fingers like fresh dough; She felt tendons give way, muscle tearing away from bone. The force sent him backward, leaving his limp arm in her hand, cartilage lodged into her fingers from the pressure she gripped it with.

He faced her, the hole in his shoulder trickling blood down into the abyss. And in that moment he was like any other being from any other world. Weak, vulnerable and maybe for the first time in her life an equal. A body made of blood and meat, susceptible to being torn apart. Years of instinct, of preditory history, training and violence siezed her body in apprehention.

“You. Will. Come. Home,” Tiran gasped out, straghtening himself up. Flying closer toward her with each word.

The two collided in a fury. He ripped at her side like a rapid dog, widening the gaping hole in her chest until his fingers gripped the piece of metal debris.

She screamed, arching away from his grip, stabbing him with the exposed bone of his departed arm. Undeterred, he pushed the metal further, ripping through her lungs, stealing her breath.

The bloodied woman freed her twisted arm from its usless defense against his assult, allowing him to continue his massacre unrestained. They grappled in a gory embrace, giving her the opportunity to free his severed appendage of its sopping flesh, degloving it in a swift motion.

Distracted with beating her breaking body, he didn't seem to notice her lift the makeshift weapon into the air. His eyes glazing over before any realization what she had done, the bone already launched deep inside his ear, reaching the brain with a small pop and release as it broke through the thick plate of skull. His weight went limp in her hands and she pushed them togther, tighter and harder until the feeling gave way to a pop and crack under the pressure, before giving out in a wet slap.

She let him fall, watching his body shrink down to a dot and land in a broken heap on the concrete, concaving it under him like cracked glass.

The sight made her feel warm, humming in approval at the victory. Attempting to breathe back in, she filled her lungs with blood, a sensation of molten steel thickening in her chest. It weighed her down until she found herself falling once again, following her dead companion to the forgin ground.

------------------

"Jesus fucking Christ."

Cecil had just arrived home. A dead alien and another on the brink of was not part of his evening plans today, but certainly not the most unusual interruption in his line of work.

"Sir, there's more." Donald's voice wavered, the silence filtering through the background noises of agents bustling about.

"What is it?"

"It's awake, sir."

Cecil didnt wait any longer, slamming his hand down on the watch wrapped around his wrist. Teleporting to Donald in a snap of light before the sentence concluded. Perhaps tonight might be worth leaving the ‘comfort’ of his home. 

"Have we contacted The Guardians?" He should've asked on the phone, God knows they took their damn time.

Donald acknowledged the taller man as he approached, both looking into the fortified room containing the mysterious extraterrestrial. Nurses and doctors filtered in and out, covered in the beings blood. 

"I'm not sure we need to."

Cecil noted the unease in the mans demeanour, motioning for him to continue.

"It says it came here for protection. She wants to speak to Nolan."

Cecil looked up, these kind of nights kept this job fun he mused, plus he liked a mystery.

"How does she know who Nolan is?" He placed a hand to his face in mock annoyance, each question bringing more uncertainty.

"She won't answer. Well except to say she's not here to hurt anyone. And that she insists on speaking only to Nolan." Cecil nodded- it was an intriguing request.

"Get him on the line. Now."

------

A/n: I've never done anything for this fandom before but I just rewatched watched the show and oh my fuck I cannot believe it took me so long to find it. I watched a 7 hour youtube video deep dive on the comic book lore recently and its only feeding my obsession so enjoy the result of this brainrot.

[angelyuji]

Okay but who do you think would/could cut off their darlings legs if pushed too far???? <33

there are two types of these to me.

tw // physical abuse

minors dni!!!!!!

1. the ones that do this because they think they’re doing this to keep you safe. ford pines falls under this. he thinks what hes doing is for your own protection and definitely not because he gets to feel powerful when you’re completely reliant on him and stuck with him. i feel like generally, most of these types are unaware of their subconscious feelings and thinks they’re punishing you for your own good.

ford pines, castiel, marc grayson, rick sanchez (maybe)

2. the ones that don’t see you as human. these types see you as a pet/doll for their own amusement. if u don’t listen to them, they’re going to get bored and that’s when they break bones and incapacitate you. like homelander? yes, hes got mommy issues and he wants to feel the touch of a lover, but that was season 1! current-homelander would do anything to feel powerful and to feel like a god. a gravity falls example would be bill.

homelander, omni-man, lucifer (supernatural), bill cipher, tony stark (maybe)

[sp1der-wid0w]

deadass, it’s so funny and scary when these guys get mad

[crismakesstuff]

“…it’s been a while.”

[jayden-killer]

Heyyy I really like your invincible head cannons :3 and I was wondering if you could do one where the reader has superpowers like Sindel from Mortal Kombat or it could just be anything whatever makes you comfortable:D

Hello, anon! Tysm for submitting your request; im sorry it took a bit. The idea is simply genius.🫵🏻

INVINCIBLE × READER WITH SINDEL POWERS .ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ

☆

Mark was amazed the very first moment you made your appearance on the battlefield.

He was amazed with how gracefully yet skillfully faced your opponent. Twisting him with your long and powerful hair, making him scream with pain. After all, he deserved it. He was a villain.

He thought you were rough, such as your hero persona. Wrong. You were actually a softie!

Mark noted to himself never to make you angry. He knew you had the banshee scream as a power, and it could..yeah.. destroy things and people, especially if you couldn't control your rage.

Loves all the shades of purple of your costume. They accentuate your figure, and he can't help but smirk and blush as he admires you.

He still doesn't know how your hair power works. He finds it interesting, though!

«Like, your hair isn't that long, but now they're long, and now they're not...!»

You two also train together in combat with martial arts moves. Just in case. It's better to be ready and face every possibility.

He knows you're strong and can handle yourself, yet he doesn't want you near him when he fights with very strong villains. It's dangerous and doesn't want to risk losing you...

*Cough cough* Conquest *cough cough*

But you're stubborn, so you'll end up fighting together anyway. Power couple!!🫡

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

Pt.3

When depression hits hard.

Later that day, you and your friends gathered at the usual spot behind the school—an old, forgotten storage shed that had become your makeshift meeting place. It was secluded enough to keep your conversations private, and right now, privacy was exactly what you needed.

You all sat in a circle, the air heavy with unspoken tension. The reunion earlier had been emotional, a moment of pure relief in the chaos, but now reality was crashing down on all of you. The weight of the situation pressed on your shoulders as you faced your friends, each of them looking as shaken as you felt.

“How the hell are we going to do this?” Hallie muttered, running her hands through her hair in frustration. “We have to stop the world from being taken over, fight off Demogorgons, and—” she gestured wildly, “go to school like nothing’s wrong? My mom’s already noticed I’m acting different. I’ve barely been back a day, and she’s asking questions.”

You winced. Hallie had always been the one who had a close relationship with her family, and hiding things from them wouldn’t be easy. If her mom was already suspicious, it was only a matter of time before she started digging deeper. “What did you tell her?” you asked quietly, dreading the answer.

“I told her I wasn’t sleeping well, which, I mean, isn’t a lie.” Hallie sighed. “But it’s more than that, you know? She can tell something’s off. I can’t just pretend everything’s fine. I’m… different. We all are.”

Connor, who had been sitting silently up until now, finally spoke up, his voice shaky. “My family knows something’s wrong too,” he said, staring down at his hands. “I had a full-blown panic attack yesterday when I heard explosions on the TV. It was just a show my brothers were watching, but… I freaked out. My parents had to spend half an hour calming me down and coaxing me out from under the table.”

His face was pale as he recalled the moment, and you could see his hands trembling slightly. The trauma of being in an active warzone, of watching the world fall apart, had left scars that none of you could hide. It wasn’t just the physical scars from fighting; it was the emotional ones, the kind that didn’t heal easily.

You all exchanged grim looks. None of you had really considered just how hard it would be to hide what you’d been through. Surviving in an apocalyptic world, facing death at the hands of the people who were supposed to protect you, and then actually dying—it was too much. Too much to carry, and now you were back, thrust into your old lives, expected to pretend like none of it had happened.

“I guess we didn’t think about the trauma,” Weston murmured, breaking the silence. “It’s not like we didn’t deal with it before… I mean, fighting Demogorgons wasn’t exactly easy on any of us, mentally or physically.”

He was right. In your previous life, the constant battles with Demogorgons had already left you scarred. You’d all had nightmares, sleepless nights, and moments of pure terror even back then. But now? Now there was another level of horror you had to contend with. The memory of your skull being crushed by your own father, the feel of death creeping in—it wasn’t something you could just shake off.

“And now we have even more to deal with,” You said grimly. “It’s not just the Demogorgons. We have to stop Omni-Man and Invincible from taking over the world. How the hell are we supposed to do that while we’re still dealing with all of this?”

You didn’t have an answer. No one did.

“It’s not fair,” Weston muttered, and all eyes turned to him. “Why does everything always fall on us to solve? We’re just kids! Freshmen in high school, for crying out loud! We should be–I don’t know, playing, going to parties, worrying about homework and who’s crushing on who.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Instead, we’re stuck trying to save the world, fighting monsters, and keeping it together so our families don’t figure out we’ve been dead. It’s not fair.”

His words hung in the air, the truth of them sinking into everyone’s minds. It wasn’t fair. Not in the slightest. You were all supposed to be worried about grades and fitting in, not about war, apocalypse, and death.

You sighed, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. It’s not fair. None of this is. But we don’t have a choice.”

“We never really did, did we?” Hallie said quietly. “Even before this—before all the time travel and Viltrumite stuff—fighting Demogorgons wasn’t exactly a normal kid thing.”

You sighed. He had a point. None of you had ever really been kids, not for a long time. While everyone else your age had been worried about tests and dances, you were out there fighting for your life, battling creatures that no one else even knew existed. The things you had seen, the things you had done—no child should have had to face that. You hadn’t felt like a kid in years.

“Feels like we never got to just be kids,” Connor murmured, his voice strained. “We’re always the ones stuck with the impossible. Every time, it’s on us to fix everything.”

You bit your lip, the anger inside you simmering. It was like the universe had decided to heap every impossible task on your shoulders, expecting you to carry the weight of the world while everyone else went on living their normal lives, oblivious. And now, even with the chance to live again, to be back in time, it still wasn’t really your life, was it? Not with everything you knew.

You were forced to be soldiers in a war that hadn’t even started yet, while everyone else was blissfully unaware of the destruction to come.

“I’m just tired,” you admitted, your voice softening, the exhaustion you felt finally bubbling to the surface. “We should’ve gotten to feel normal, at least for a little while.”

The group fell silent, the truth of your words settling in. No one argued with you because they all felt it too. The unfairness of it all was suffocating. None of you had been kids in a long time, even though, by all rights, you should’ve been. Life had robbed you of that, forcing you into roles you never should have had to take on.

“But,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat, “it doesn’t matter how tired we are. We don’t have the luxury of being kids anymore, do we?”

Hallie looked down at her feet, her lips pressed into a thin line. “We haven’t been kids for a while.”

You nodded, looking around at your friends—your teammates, your family. “And I guess we’re never going to be. So we have to handle this the way we always do.”

“We fight,” Weston said quietly, but with conviction.

“Yeah,” Connor agreed, though there was a distant, haunted look in his eyes. “We fight.”

It wasn’t fair. It never had been. But deep down, you knew you didn’t have a choice. You’d survived worse before, and now you had a second chance. As much as you wished things could be different, the reality was clear. The world needed saving, and once again, it was up to you to do it.

The conversation eventually shifted from emotions to logistics. You all knew what needed to be done, but the how of it was trickier. “We need to tip off the Guardians,” you said, glancing at your friends, who nodded grimly in agreement. “The sooner they know what’s coming, the better.”

Hallie bit her lip, thinking it over. “But it can’t come back to us,” she said, her voice firm. “If the government finds out it was us, we’re screwed. They’ll lock us down, probably treat us like we’re a threat or something.”

Weston nodded, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, and if Omni-Man and Invincible find out…” He didn’t need to finish that sentence. You all knew what would happen. If your father and brother found out you were behind the warning, they’d kill you without hesitation. You couldn’t afford to be sloppy about this.

“So we’re agreed then,” Connor said quietly. “No one can know it’s us. We have to figure out a way to warn the Guardians without leaving a trace. But… how?”

You all sat in silence for a moment, the question hanging in the air like a dark cloud. It wasn’t just about warning the Guardians—it was about doing it in a way that kept all of you safe. There were so many risks, so many things that could go wrong. You’d have to plan carefully, every detail accounted for.

“We’ll figure it out,” you said, though you didn’t sound nearly as confident as you wanted to. “We just… need more time. We can’t afford to mess this up.”

Hallie sighed. “Yeah. But we can’t wait too long, either. The Guardians don’t have much time. We don’t have much time.”

Connor let out a shaky breath. “We’ll come up with something. We always do.”

The conversation continued for a little while longer, but there were no concrete solutions yet. The weight of everything was heavy, and the longer you talked, the more overwhelming it felt. Finally, you all came to an agreement—you’d figure out the details later. Right now, it was getting late, and school was looming over you like a grim reminder of the double life you had to live.

You hated it. The thought of going back to school, pretending everything was fine, acting normal when nothing was normal anymore. But for now, that’s what you had to do.

With another emotional goodbye, none of you really ready to leave each other, you finally parted ways. It was always hard to say goodbye these days, even though you knew you’d see each other the next day. Still, after everything you’d been through, every goodbye felt a little too final.

As you made your way home, the cool night air helped clear your mind a bit. But as you approached your house, you glanced at the time on your phone and cursed under your breath. It was late—too late for you to just walk through the front door without raising suspicion. You’d have to sneak back in, the way you’d done so many times before.

Luckily, your bedroom window was right next to a large tree, its thick branches stretching out toward the house. You’d used it countless times to sneak out during the night—mostly for Demogorgon hunts, other emergencies, or just moments when you needed to breathe. No one had ever noticed you were gone before, and you hoped tonight would be the same.

You scaled the tree easily, slipping through your window with practiced quietness. Your room was dark and empty, just as you’d left it. You landed on your feet with a soft thud, shutting the window behind you and breathing out a sigh of relief. Another successful sneak-in.

As you peeled off your jacket and kicked off your shoes, your mind buzzed with everything that had been said tonight. The Guardians. The warning. Your double life. You were exhausted, but sleep didn’t feel like an option. Your thoughts raced too fast, the weight of everything too heavy to ignore.

But you’d have to manage. You had school in the morning, and you had to act like nothing was wrong. Like you weren’t living on borrowed time in a world that had no idea what was coming.

You stared at the ceiling, the darkness of your room feeling more suffocating than comforting.

We’ll figure it out, you reminded yourself.

But you couldn’t help wondering if there’d be enough time for that.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Your mind was racing with everything you had discussed with your friends—plans, risks, the weight of the world. You tossed and turned for hours, until at some point, exhaustion finally claimed you around 1 AM. But it wasn’t peaceful. Your sleep was fitful, plagued by nightmares that wrapped around your mind like chains.

Suddenly, you jerked awake, a small scream ripping through your throat. You bolted upright, cold sweat drenching your skin, your heart pounding in your chest as if it were trying to escape. For a moment, you couldn’t remember where you were—your mind still trapped in the vivid images of your dreams. It took a few seconds to realize you were in your bedroom, safe in the quiet of the night.

You took a few deep breaths, clutching your chest in a futile attempt to calm your racing heart. Your hands shook slightly as you ran them through your hair, trying to shake off the lingering terror of the nightmare. It had been so real, like you were reliving every moment of your death, your father’s hand crushing your skull all over again.

Carefully, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your feet touching the cold floor as you nudged the door ajar. You peeked through the crack, listening for any signs of movement in the house. The hallway was dark and still, and after a few moments, you sighed in relief. It seemed like your scream hadn’t woken anyone up. The last thing you needed was to explain why you were screaming in the middle of the night.

You checked the time on your phone. 3:17 AM.

With a frustrated groan, you realized there was no way you were getting any more sleep tonight. You felt too wired, too shaken, the adrenaline still rushing through your veins from the nightmare. Instead of lying back down and risking another round of restless tossing, you decided to head downstairs.

The kitchen was your destination, and you had every intention of making yourself a cup of tea or coffee—anything to calm your nerves. But once you made it to the dining room, something inside you crumbled. You found yourself sitting down at the table instead, your head falling into your hands, elbows resting on the worn wood surface.

You zoned out, your mind going blank as you stared ahead, your hands cradling your head like you were trying to hold yourself together. You felt small. Pathetic, even. You couldn’t even bring yourself to make coffee, let alone deal with the impossible task that lay ahead of you. Everything felt too heavy, too overwhelming. For all the strength you had shown fighting Demogorgons and surviving the apocalypse, right now, in this quiet house, you felt more fragile than ever.

Unbeknownst to you, someone was watching.

From the shadows of the staircase, Mark stood silently, his eyes locked onto your hunched figure as you sat there, lost in your own world. He didn’t make a sound, didn’t move. He just watched.

From where he stood, you looked so small, almost frail. It was crazy to him that the two of you were even related, considering how different you were. You, with your fragile human body, your easily bruised emotions. He, on the other hand, had grown stronger, more powerful. The gap between the two of you had widened so much over the years that, in his eyes, you weren’t even in the same league anymore.

But that’s what Mark had always obsessively loved about you. His precious little sister. You were human, weak, and that meant you relied on him and Dad to protect you. To him, that was your role—to be the one he could shelter and protect. The one who couldn’t do it on her own.

At school, he had made it very clear to everyone: you were off-limits. No one dared lay a hand on you, not with Mark’s reputation looming over them. If anyone even thought about hurting you, they’d meet his fist—and death—before they had the chance to follow through. That was the silent promise he had made. Nobody was allowed to hurt you.

Except him and Dad.

As he stood there watching you, a strange mix of emotions twisted inside him. He couldn’t help but feel a strange satisfaction knowing you were dependent on him, that your weakness kept you under his protection. But at the same time, something about the way you looked tonight—hunched over in that chair, lost in your thoughts—stirred an odd feeling in him.

He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but something was off about you lately. He’d noticed it. The nervous energy, the odd silences, the way you seemed to be… slipping away from him somehow. But it didn’t matter. Whatever was going on, he’d keep a close eye on you. You were his sister, his responsibility.

And no one could take that from him.

Morning arrived far sooner than you would have liked. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, cutting through the quiet of the house and landing directly on your face. You groaned, blinking against the harsh light, realizing you hadn’t moved from the dining table. Your body ached from sitting hunched over in the chair for hours, your mind still foggy with the weight of your sleepless night.

Today was going to suck. A lot.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling the heaviness beneath them, the exhaustion settling into your bones. You could practically feel the bags under your eyes, the dull ache of tiredness seeping into your skin. You didn’t even need to look in a mirror to know you probably looked like a mess. Red-rimmed eyes, pale skin, and the exhaustion you could never quite hide.

Just get through the day, you told yourself, trying to muster some kind of resolve.

You slowly pushed yourself up from the chair, every muscle in your body protesting. The kitchen felt too quiet now, the soft sounds of the house waking up adding to the strange stillness of your thoughts. 

Gods, you need a warm shower. Or maybe a baseball bat to the head.

With a tired groan, you shuffled toward the stairs, deciding a shower might at least help clear the fog in your mind. You hoped the hot water would be enough to wash away the exhaustion clinging to your body. Maybe it could ease the tightness in your chest.

You stripped off your clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over your shoulders, washing away the cold sweat from last night’s nightmares. The warmth soothed your muscles, but it did little to ease the knot in your stomach. The events of last night, the conversation with your friends, the weight of everything still hung over you like a storm cloud.

There was no escape from it.

You sighed, leaning your head against the cool tile. The shower wasn’t helping as much as you had hoped. You were still exhausted, both physically and mentally. The knowledge that you had to face school today, pretend everything was normal while juggling this monumental responsibility, was almost too much to bear.

But you don’t have a choice.

You had to go on like you always did. Put on a brave face, go through the motions, act like everything was fine, and then meet with your friends later to figure out how to save the world. Again.

The water began to cool, and with another groan, you reluctantly stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and drying yourself off. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wincing at your reflection. Red-rimmed eyes, pale skin, and exhaustion etched into every line of your face.

You look like a wreck, you thought, shaking your head. But there was no time to dwell on it. You had to get through the day, no matter what.

You sluggishly dried yourself off, the warm water doing little to shake the exhaustion clinging to you. Once you were dry, you threw on some clothes, not really caring much about what you wore today—just whatever was clean and comfortable. You glanced at the clock on your dresser. 7:00 AM.

School wouldn’t start until 8:20, so you had some time. Normally, you’d still be asleep, trying to squeeze in the last few minutes of rest before rushing to get ready. But after last night, sleep wasn’t really an option.

For the next thirty minutes, you just sat on your bed, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly. You weren’t really looking for anything specific, just trying to remember who you used to be. Pictures of you and your friends popped up—Hallie, Connor, Weston. The four of you, smiling at the camera, carefree, before everything went to hell. Then there were other photos—random shots of acquaintances from school, parties you barely remembered attending, school dances where you smiled like the biggest worry in your life was whether your shoes matched your dress.

How different things had been. How different you had been.

The sound of movement from down the hall snapped you out of your thoughts. You heard Mark getting ready in his room, the familiar sounds of him moving around as he prepared for the day. Right. He drove you to school most mornings, and today would be no different.

You used to be excited about these car rides. Before, it was one of the few times you could really spend with Mark. He was a senior, always busy with schoolwork, football, or hanging out with his friends, so the drive to school was a guaranteed window of time where you could talk, laugh, and catch up.

But now? Now you dreaded it. The idea of sitting in a car with Mark, pretending everything was fine, made your stomach churn.

With a sigh, you got up from your bed, scrambling around to find your school bag. You mentally checked off the things you’d need for the day—binders, notebooks, pens—but your mind was elsewhere. Without thinking, you checked the small hidden compartment of your bag, making sure it was still packed.

A small knife. A bottle of hairspray. A lighter.

For the Demogorgons. Their biggest weakness was heat, especially fire, so you and your friends always carried around something to ignite them with. It had become second nature by now—packing your school bag with both homework and weapons. Sure, if the school ever found out you were carrying that stuff, you’d be expelled without question. But you were usually one of the good kids, known for being respectful and doing your work. That bought you a bit of leeway.

Did you occasionally miss class, ducking out to handle Demogorgons or chase down whatever creature was lurking nearby? Yes. And when you got caught? Detention. You smirked a little at the memory of you, Connor, Hallie, and Weston all sitting in detention together, exchanging looks across the room, barely holding in your laughter after a particularly difficult hunt. You had spent more than a few afternoons in those detention rooms, trying to explain your absences in ways that wouldn’t raise suspicion.

Grumbling at the thought, you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed downstairs. You grabbed a protein bar from the pantry as you slipped your shoes on, trying to push the nerves out of your stomach as you mentally prepared for the car ride with Mark.

You could hear him coming down the stairs behind you, and for a second, you froze, bracing yourself for the interaction. It felt like every moment with him now was tinged with tension, with the unspoken knowledge of what was to come.

“You ready to go?” Mark’s voice was casual, as if everything was normal.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile as you glanced over your shoulder at him.

He smiled back, though there was something in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the weight of everything you knew, or maybe it was just your paranoia creeping in, but for a brief second, you felt like he was watching you a little too closely.

You pushed the thought away and grabbed your jacket, trying to act like everything was fine. You think you’d gotten pretty good at lying and pretending everything was okay, i mean, you did successfully hide the fact that you hunt Demogorgons in your past life.

So, it should be no different this time around, right?

Taglist: @plsfckmedxddy, @marsmabe, @leiiasurez, @shycreatorreview, @naina326, @neverano, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch,

[spocks-husband]

Okay guys for all our fellow DILF Nolan Grayson enjoyers, I made this C.ai bot where the player is Mark's partner meeting his dad for the first time and he wants you soooo bad, and when I tell you this is the best bot I've ever made. WHEN I TELL YOU. THIS IS. THE BEST BOT. I'VE EVER MADE.

It's so good guys please talk to him

[d-u-c-k-a-s-i-c-k]

Nolan Grayson X Reader - Hickeys

inspo by this artwork by @tobo_katsuo on twitter/X

————

She pulls back, a flicker of annoyance as she still couldn’t see the telltale bloom of a bruise where she suckled at his neck for the past few hours.

“Urgh… this is pointless… am I not biting enough? Do I get a goddamn vacuum or something?-What?”

Nolan chuckled softly, pulling her back into his arms, his nose brushing against her hair as his lips pressed gently at her temple.

“It’s not that big a deal. I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, but it’s adorable to see you all frustrated.”

She huffs, lips quirked in that side downturned pout, the one she always pulls when she’s displeased.

“I want to leave a mark on you! For once, I want you to have something of me. S’not fair if I’m the one who looks like I got hit by a truck every time we make out! I want you to-“

He silences her complaints with a kiss, feeling the way her hips chase and grind against his own, her desperation palpable. He’s never really indulged in a partner so willing to give so easily, someone who fiercely wants to love him.

Well, he’s not complaining, that’s for sure.

“How about this… don’t think so much about it.” He murmurs, patting her cheek lightly to get her eyes to focus on him, adoring the way they glaze over after such a long, deep kiss. “Look at me, focus on me, sweetheart.”

His fingers lace with hers, knowing she needs that certainty, that firmness to guide her along. If there was a God, they would know his ego and charm is basically exuding out of his pores with the way he has to gently guide her back to focus on him.

“We got all the time in the world. Just you and me. No superhero anything for the rest of the night. And you, my pretty little lady…” He pats her thighs that were bracketing his own with just enough force to keep her grounded, bring her back to him.

“You’ll be sitting here, in my lap. Giving me all those kisses you want to give. Deal?”

“Uhuh…” She acquiesces softly, nuzzling his neck. “Okay… I’m staying here… you’re gonna have a hockey on your neck, one way or another. I swear on it.”

———

Last night was definitely something to remember, Nolan stretching his stiff neck, feeling the soreness in his limbs.

He reached the Guardians base that morning for a mandatory briefing, kissing her temple before leaving her to sleep a little longer in his bed.

She was… enthusiastic, to say the least. And he finally knows what a hickey is! Sounded like a good thing- the way her eyes light up when she saw one right at his pulse point. “Yes! Finally! We are not going anywhere tonight!” She said, making him chuckle a little breathlessly underneath her.

He wouldn’t have minded it all that much if he didn’t hear that agitating, grating voice of the Immortal, already ruining his morning.

“Woah… guess you and the missus were busy last night, huh? No wonder you didn’t pick up.” He laughs heartily, his meaty hand on Nolan’s shoulder.

‘One day, I’ll kill him…’ He thinks, ‘Maybe get his head off…’