#fem!alien!reader

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

Wait—Where is he, anyway?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't know you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Forgive me! Please!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🪐👽⭐️💜

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

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

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

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