ashes-of-rozes

[ashes-of-rozes]

Alright guys I want you to decide how my Viltrumite!Mark fic is going to go!

Because I have major writers block and would love to see your thoughts!

[ashes-of-rozes]

In Chicago, I Feel It

༼Part Five༽

Warnings: SMUT (only a bit/very mild), dirty talk (sorta), breeding kink(?), idk I just work here, NOLAN finally makes an appearance, spoiler: he doesn’t like you :(, ceremonial clothes (dress), awkward Viltrumite Mark is my favorite Mark

“That’s it— fuck.”

A high pitched, needy whine leaves your throat, nails digging into his shoulders, “M-Mark.” He groans, pushing in deeper, “Feels so… good. Fuck.”

The muscles in your thighs are straining, throbbing in pain from being stretched for so long. “Can’t,” you cry, shoving at his chest, “It’s too much.” “You can,” he growls, an order, “You will. I’m going to fill you so much it’s leaking out. And then I’m putting more in.” Your walls clench around him. He chuckles, dark and low beside your ear, “You gave yourself over to me, you knew what was going to happen.”

A sob punches from your chest. You can’t even hate him because it’s true. You agreed you agreed to let him mate with you. But the moment you stripped before him, bare and vulnerable, he was on you. Eager and aggressive.

“You made me wait so long. I’m done being patient,” he mumbles, shifting his hips back before thrusting forward, filling you with one push of his hips.

Your thighs twitch and your back arches which only pushes him deeper. Mark groans, the grip on your hips tightening.

“Don’t. Move,” he commands.

I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

Slowly, your breathing evens out, back falling against the bed, muscles easing. “You’re going to look so sexy as a mom,” he mumbles, starting with slow thrusts, “Can’t wait to see your stomach get big and beautiful when you’re carrying our child.”

He’s never called your future baby ‘child’ , it's always ‘offspring’. You know something is wrong. But then the tip of his cock kisses your cervix and your brain whites out.

“I love you.”

〤〤〤

You startle awake, breathing slightly heavy.

“Are you alright?”

You startle, turning to look at him. Mark’s standing in the door, breakfast tray in hands, frowning. “I’m,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Weird dream.” Mark looks unconvinced but nods anyway. He walks over to you, offering you the tray, “It’ll be a busy day today. Once you’ve eaten and showered, we have to leave.”

You sit up, taking the tray from him, your insides squirming as your fingers brush against his own.

“What time is the speech,” you ask. “Noon,” he replies, sitting on the edge of the bed, “You sure you don’t want to talk to the people?” You shake your head. Mark nods, “Very well.” He gently squeezes your leg and stands, “We have to be there by eleven but other than that, we’re not on a schedule. Take your time.”

You take advantage of it, eating and showering slower than usual. The dream lingered in your mind. You were disgusted with your mind for even thinking about having sex with him. Let alone— enjoying it.

“What is this?”

Mark looks up from the papers he’s reading on the desk, eyes drifting from you to the clothes laid out on the bed. “A ceremonial Viltrumite outfit,” he answers, slow. Like he knows you won’t like his response. “I’m not giving a speech,” you mumble, rubbing at the bruises along your throat, “Why do I have to wear one?”

Make stares at the dress. Like he’s trying to burn it. To rid it of its existence.

“My father will be there,” he says, hands balling into fists, “Annisa has probably already informed him of you. I know it’s not ideal— but I really need him to like you. Or tolerate you.”

“Tolerate?”

His eyes snap up to meet yours, “Wrong word— look, my father is a very … specific man. He doesn’t believe Viltrumites should breed with anyone who isn’t another Viltrumite. Just— don’t talk, okay? I’ll do all the talking.” You stare at him for a long time.

You look back down at the dress or whatever Mark called it earlier. You fidget with the bracelet before speaking, “Should I style my hair in a specific way or something?” Mark frowns, “Why?” You look up at him, “Some cultures have specific traditions for wearing ceremonial outfits. It makes the person look prettier.” Marks face softens slightly, “You look fine the way you are now.”

You look down at yourself, covered in a towel and making a puddle on the floor.

You look back up at him, “Really?” Mark rolls his eyes, “Just get dressed. We have to leave soon to make it on time.”

The dress is a tight fit but that’s probably just Viltrumite clothing. Mark’s clothes are two sizes too small.

“Okay we have to go—“

Mark stops in his tracks. The world stills.

“What,” you ask, rubbing at the bruises on your neck subconsciously, “What’s wrong?” He swallows and doesn’t answer for a long moment.

“Woah.”

A blush instantly spreads across your cheeks, “You…” Mark shakes his head and his expression hardens again, “Come on. We’re gonna be late.” He ushers you out of the door, hand a little lower than usual.

〤〤〤

“If you were going to fly, why did we have to leave so fast?”

Mark huffs, “Planes do nothing but pollute the air. Besides, I can only fly so fast with a human passenger— your lungs and body aren’t adapted to traveling faster than sound.” You blink, “You can fly that fast?” He nods. You swallow, straightening out your dress.

Mark grabs your shoulders, “Listen. Very carefully. If you thought Annisa had power, you haven’t even scratched the surface of Viltrumite power. My father will not hesitate to kill you—“

Cause that makes me feel better.

“— but I won’t let him, understand? Don’t talk, let me talk. And stay behind the curtain when I give the speech. That’s all you have to do,” he instructs. You blink, “If all I am is eye candy why did I have to come?” Mark pauses, “My mom wants to meet you. And I have a surprise.”

“A what—“

“Close your eyes,” Mark interrupts. You stare at him but eventually comply, eyes fluttering closed. You yelp when Mark picks you up. “Keep them closed, my flower. I was told it’s a tradition to do surprises like this.”

“Who told you that,” you ask. “Katie,” he replies, “She’s been very helpful in understanding human things.” Something swirls around your heart; a black vine with thorns, sinking deep into your chest.

Jealousy?

No. Not possible.

“Why are you asking Katie,” you mumble, “I can tell you about human things.” Mark gently squeezes your hip, “Would you?” “Well— I don’t know everything but I can tell you a lot,” you argue. Mark huff, “Okay, flower. I’ll come to you first from now on.”

A few moments of comfortable silence falls before Mark stops and slowly sets you back onto your feet. “You can open now.”

Your eyes open immediately, impatient to know what the surprise was.

The world has already crashed and burned. Can it happen twice in one lifetime?

Sam is in front of you, a small tired smile on her face. She looks beaten up but alive.

You feel sick again.

Mark's hands fall to your waist to keep you upright.

“Sam—“

She’s hugging you. Your whole body goes rigid, arms limp at your sides. “You’re okay,” she sighs, “He said you would be but—“ She leans back, eyes darting to your neck. Her face falls, “Did he—“

“No,” you say immediately, “No. He saved me.” She sighs, smiling, glancing back at Mark before settling back on you, “Promise?” You nod. She nods in turn then pulls you in for another hug. Mark gently squeezes your hips before letting go. With a shaky breath, you return the hug.

“I missed you,” she mumbles, “So much.”

You tighten your grip around her, burying your face in the crook of her neck, “You’re okay. I wasn’t sure if …”

“Mark!”

Mark grabs you suddenly, pulling you away from her. A soft choked sound punched from your throat. “Samantha, you need to leave,” he says, voice low, “Now.” She glances at you, mouthing a soft ‘stay safe’ before disappearing behind the curtain.

Mark turns back at you, “Keep your head down. And don’t say a word.”

“But—“

He holds your face in his hands, “Please.” You nod. He sighs, kissing your forehead before turning back, face stoic once again. You shift behind him and lower your gaze.

“Mark,” a deep voice calls out, “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” “Father,” Mark responds, voice monotone. Your not looking at him but you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand when his gaze falls to you, “I see you brought your pet.” Mark’s hands ball into fists behind his back. Without thinking, you reach up, gently laying your hand over his own.

You tell yourself it’s so he doesn’t go berserk and kill everyone. But it brings you both a sense of comfort.

“Yes,” Mark replies after a moment. “And she’s in our ceremonial clothing,” his father adds, “Disgrace.” It takes everything in you not to flinch. “It’s protocol, father,” Mark defends. The man scoffs, “I heard what happened with Annisa. I’m glad she left her mark on such a weak picking.” Mark’s grip on your hand tightens. “Annisa attacked her without being provoked. She comes near my … pet again I will kill her. I’ve already made that very clear,” Mark explains.

Mark's father is silent for an unnerving amount of time, “Very well. We have a speech to give anyways. Let us go.” Mark gently squeezes your hand before he lets go, “Lead the way.” Mark and his father leave.

“You can look up now, dear.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet a soft voice. The woman smiles, “I’m Debbie. That was my husband, Nolan. And you know my son, Mark.”

“I’m—“

“I know, dear,” Debbie smiles, “You’re Mark’s favorite thing to talk about, ya know? Everytime we talk, he mentions you. I haven’t seen that boy smile since he was a toddler.” Something flutters in your stomach. Butterflies? No way. “I know it’s scary, but that boy does care about you,” Debbie continues, “I know that sounds weird, but it’s true.”

“Because he wants to reproduce with me?”

Debbie pauses, “You two haven’t … oh my. He should’ve done it the first night he had you.” She sighs and smiles, “If Nolan asks, you two have been trying, okay? For your own safety.” You blink, “I’m confused.” Debbie shakes her head, “Viltrumites don’t ask before they take. Whether it’s planets or people.”

“He didn’t really … ask. I just said I wasn’t ready,” you mumble. “Oh dear,” she whispers, “Maybe he cares for you more than I thought.” Before you could ask her to clarify, the lights dimmed and you could hear the faint sound of microphone feedback.

〤〤〤

“Mark … can I ask you something?”

He looks at you, brushing hair from your face, “Yes?” You swallow, “Why haven’t you … tried to reproduce with me?” Mark freezes, “Are you ready?” You look away, “I don’t know. It’s just … your mom said Viltrumites don’t usually wait this long. I was wondering if you had second thoughts.” Mark gently cups your face and turns your head back to look at him, “I am not my father. I am not Annisa. I will not force myself on someone. Especially you.”

“Why?”

“Humans are … not what I was expecting. Yes, they were killing their own planet and some of them are horrible but … you are one of the good ones. Not just because you were a hero. I watched you for those three weeks, watched you help people when you yourself were on the verge of collapsing. You are strong in ways Viltrumites do not grasp. And for that I wish to never break. So if I have to wait a hundred years for you to accept my offer then I will.”

You swallow the lump on your throat. You don’t have the heart to tell him your biological clock runs out in twenty-ish years.

Without thinking, you surge forward, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “And … if I never do,” you ask. Marks wraps his arms around you, “My bloodline has to continue one way or another. But you will not be thrown away if you do not want me.” You breathe a sigh of relief, “Do you have someone else in mind?”

“No,” he responds immediately, “Which means my father will be in charge of who it is. Which means—“

“Annisa,” you finish for him. Mark tightens his grip around you, “Yes.”

“Mark?”

“Yes, my flower?”

“I won’t let you wait that long.”

masterlist

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: @heiankyonoeiyuukun , @maddyb-rapps , @bluerrie , @fruticake , @mileskisser , @nappingnai , @lingxio , @missybabes , @redz0mbie , @madilynnylidam

I am, in fact, not dead! I’m sorry it took so long to update had writers block and then got food poisoning, lol so it’s been a while! I know I don’t have a regular posting schedule but I still feel bad I made you wait so long.

Love you guys!

xoxo

||part four||

[ashes-of-rozes]

In Chicago, I Feel It

༼Part Four༽

Warnings: allergies mentioned (seafood), Annisa being Annisa (yes, that’s a warning), choking (not the fun kind), mentions of harassment, this took a dark turn and I apologize

The days blurred together after that.

Mark was gone long hours; usually gone by the time you woke up and slipping in behind you as you just started to drift.

You managed to catch him before he left this morning. Your eyes flutter open and land almost immediately on Mark fussing over food on the desk.

“Mark?”

Your voice is groggy and tired, eyes barely open. He looks over at you, “You’re allergic to seafood, right?” You nod, sitting up, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes, “Yeah, why?” So the doctor had done more than just grope you when he was getting medical history. “Who the fuck serves fish for breakfast anyways,” he says, glaring at the food.

“Countries are different,” you mumble, tossing the blanket off your legs, “I just won’t eat the fish.”

Instead of cold stone, nothing but soft and warmth lay under your feet. You look down, shuffling your feet against the soft fabric. “What…”

“I didn’t know what house slipper were,” Mark says, throwing the fish into the trash, “But you said your feet were cold.” You stare down at the rug under you, “It’s … blue?”

“Yes.”

You look up at him, “It’s colorful, is my point. There hasn’t been any color in this building. It’s just weird.” Mark turns to you, “Do you not like it? I didn’t know what else to pick.” You frown, “You picked it?” He nods, “Yes.” You stare at him a moment before looking back at the rug.

“There is something I want to talk to you about,” he says, “I must speak to the humans. To give them one last chance to surrender. We’ve killed too many.” A lump forms in your throat. “I want you to speak to them,” he adds, “I have spoken to our tailors and they’re fixing your suit. I want you to speak to them as a hero, an ally. And as my partner.”

You stare at him like he’s lost what sanity you gave him credit for. “Ask people to give up their freedom,” you shake your head, “We’ve been through dictators already. No one really wants to do that again.”

“You’ve complied thus far.”

He’s not wrong.

And it makes you dizzy.

“You haven’t given me much of a choice,” your argument is weak even to you. “I’ve given you plenty,” he says, voice cold, “You haven’t tried to escape. You’ve continued eating and you’re staying healthy— I think you like it here.”

You feel nauseous.

“Thare not fair,” you choke out, “I was taken against my will— I don’t wanna be here.”

Mark’s in front of you in the blink of an eye. Nothings on fire and yet there are flames burning in his amber irises. He grabs your chin so hard you swear something cracks.

So this is how you die.

By the hands of a Viltrumite you mouthed off to.

The end.

Except nothing happens. Mark continues to stare at you. Is this the last thing people saw before they died? The image of death seared into their brains.

Mark’s been extremely patient with you since you arrived. Never once pushing things too far or forcing you to have sex with him. You thought you knew how he was when he was mad. But this … this is different. He looks irate but also hurt. Like you not wanting to be here is the deepest insult you could’ve shouted.

He continues to stare at you like he’s searching for something. Like you’re the one person who holds the answer to all his problems. Yet, at the same time like you are the problem. Like all this is your fault— the world ending, getting kidnapped.

It’s all your fault.

Why wouldn’t it be? Everything else is.

“I’m not forcing you to speak,” he says. His voice is a few octaves lower than usual, “I don’t … force you to do anything. But you are going, I can’t control that.” You stare up at him, opening your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a yelp of pain. The fire dies in his eyes and his grip loosens, “Think about it. The speech is Friday.” His hand falls to his side and he turns to leave.

You reach out to grab his wrist, “Can I go to the greenhouse today?” He stares at you, jaw flexing as he swallows, “Yes.” You nod, letting your hand fall. Mark takes a deep breath and leans down, brushing hair from your forehead and placing a kiss to your forehead. Your breath catches in your throat. Mark does this a lot. Mainly when he thinks you’re asleep; crawling under the covers late at night, kissing the back of your shoulder or the top of your head.

“Just … don’t wander off. It’s not safe out there,” he cups your face with one hand, “I’ll give you everything you could ever dream of if you just comply. Just for a little while longer.” Your gaze lingers on his features. His eyes look almost pleading. You nod, “Okay.” He sighs, “Thank you.” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, gives you another forehead kiss and then leaves for the day.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and look out at the sky. You look back down at the rug, shuffling your feet and smiling.

Mark was such a confusing person. He could look like he wanted to snap your neck one second and then caress you the next.

You walk over to the desk, staring down at the food, finding the empty space where the fish used to be. You sit down, eating the eggs and hashbrowns.

It's weird that someone would serve fish with this. And uneasy feeling bubbles in your throat

Your eyes find the bracelet on your wrist, twirling it between your fingers. You tug on it gently but it doesn’t budge. Defeated, you make your way to the bathroom. Splashing your face with water and brushing your hair to get ready for the day.

You change into a comfortable shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Feet bare (because no one on Vultrume knows what shoes are apparently) you make your way to the roof.

Probably.

It’s hard to tell what is what.

Three right turns and then …

Then …

“Fuck,” you mumble. Do you go straight? Turn left?

You turn left, heading down the corridor, looking for a door the said ‘roof access’ but tbh the time you realize it’s not here, you stumble upon a wide space with two big doors. Like the ones in movies that lead to an evil lair. You look over your shoulder, making sure no one else is here before you walk up to the doors. You grab the handle, pulling on it.

It doesn’t budge.

Stupid Viltrumite strength.

You dig your feet into the ground and pull harder. It creaks softly.

Okay, maybe it’s not Viltrumite strength. Maybe it's the doors themselves.

By the time the door is open enough for you to squeeze through you’re pretty sure you’ve pulled six different muscles and extorted your lungs enough to lay off exercise for a year. When you do manage to squeeze through the door slams behind you. You wince at the echo.

Your eyes widen.

It’s a library.

A big, open, beautiful library.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of books, old and new. It brings a small comfort, a familiar smell reminding you of home. Before you can think any better of it, you walk further inside, letting your hand glide along the spines of the books.

“Are you insane!”

You jump, turning to the shouting. That’s Mark’s voice.

“She could’ve died!”

You freeze, peaking your head around the corner of the shelf. In the far distance, Mark and another girl with short black hair are standing.

The girl scoffs, “So?” Mark is silent for a beat, “Annisa, if she dies because of you, I will make your death very slow and very painful. I will torture you until you’re begging for death. And then I’ll torture you more.”

You squeeze the wooden shelves, heart drumming heavily in your chest.

Annisa scoffs, looking amused, “She’s too weak for you Mark. If she can die from something as simple as food, she can’t give you what you want.” Mark scoff, “What exactly do you think I want?” “An offspring,” she replies casually, “But I can provide one. A strong one. A healthy one.”

Oh god. If you have no purpose anymore, is he going to kill you? Throw you in jail?

“I don’t want you,” he replies, cold and authoritative, “I want her. I’ll wait until she’s ready.” Annisa glares at him, “And if she never is?” Mark’s hands ball into fists at his sides, “That’s her choice.”

“It doesn’t have to be. You can easily overpower her,” she scoffs.

Breathing picking up, you stumble back, eyes on the exit— when you hear it. The soft sound of a book hitting the floor. You freeze. Your heartbeat is echoing in your ears, fear freezing you on the spot.

A gust of wind and then the ground is no longer below your feet. You look up to meet the gaze of the woman Mark was talking to. Annisa smirks, hand wrapped firmly around your neck, “You’re the object of his affection?” You claw pathetically at her hand, vision quickly turning black. The world around you is blurring.

Your muscles go lax.

Mark punches her, sending her flying through several bookshelves. You gasp when she lets you go, tears filling your eyes. Mark catches you before you hit the ground, pulling you close, gently touching your throat. Bruises are already forming.

A soft groan off to your side but Mark ignores her. “What are you doing here,” he asks, frowning. “Got … lost,” you gasp out, tears spilling from your eyes at the pain.

“You bastard. You hit me!”

You flinch at the voice and Mark instantly pulls you closer, keeping you pressed against him, arms wrapped around you protectively. You cling to his shirt. Mark might scare you— with his raw strength and ability to get mad so easily— but right now he’s your lifeline.

Mark finally acknowledges Annisa. When he speaks, the rooms temperature drops from the ice in his voice, “You hurt her.” Annisa laughs, like it’s funny, “If she can almost die from that she’s weaker than I thought! And you want her? I’m right here!” You cling tighter to him, silently begging him to not throw you aside. You don’t wanna die.

Mark looks down at you, noticing you shaking in his arms. He presses a soft, hopefully reassuring kiss to the top of your head, breathing in your scent. His eyes snapped up to Annisa, angry and fueled with fire, “I don’t want you. And if you even think about touching her again I will kill you.”

“Your father would disapprove of that,” she said. “Then I’ll kill him too,” he replied instantly, “You are here simply as a messenger between planets. You can easily be replaced.” Without another word, Mark scoops you into his arms and leaves.

Somewhere in the maze of the place, he finally speaks, “Can you talk?” You nod, shaking slightly less now that she’s not in the same room as you, “H-Hurts.” His grip tightens on you, “I’ll get a doctor.” You shake your head. Mark frowns, “Flower—“

“Bath.”

He hesitates. He’s never done that before.

“Doctor after,” he said, “No arguing.” You nod.

Once back in the room, Mark immediately goes to the bathroom. He gently sets you on the edge of the tub, keeping one hand on your hip while the other turns on the faucet. Once he’s appeared it warm enough, he clogs the drain and turns back to you.

“You got lost,” he asks. You nod, embarrassed that a wrong turn could lead you to almost dying. “Three right turns,” he said, drawing an invisible map on your thigh, “Straight. And then left.” You nod, tears drying as you stare at his hand. “I’ll draw you a map,” he said, “I should’ve done that to begin with.”

You gently grab his wrist, “I—“ You cough softly, throat still sore, “Library?” Mark looks up at you, “You want to go?” You nod. He sighs, “It’ll be under reconstruction for a few days, but after that, yes. And I’ll get you a map for that as well.” He gently squeezes your thigh, “I’m going to call for a doctor. Relax in the bath as long as you wish.”

You don’t wanna be alone. Even if Mark is your only company.

But you have no right to ask him to stay.

Mark leaves and you watch the tub fill up with water. Once it’s filled, you turn it off and strip off your clothes, sliding into the warm water. A sigh escapes you and your muscles relax.

〤〤〤

You stay in the tub until the water’s gone cold and Mark comes in.

“Making sure you’re still alive,” he says, setting a pile of clothes on the sink, “The doctors waiting when you’re ready.” He stares at you, eyes eagerly roam over your naked body under the water. He stops himself and leaves without another word.

You stay in there for another minute before you drag yourself out, the water draining scratching your ears as you put on your pajamas.

You look at yourself in the mirror, wincing at the bruising across your neck. You gently trace a finger along the purple marks, frowning.

With a deep, painful breath, you walk back into the room. Mark is beside you almost immediately, guiding you to the bed like you're an eighty year old woman who’s gone blind. Once you settle, he drapes the ends on the comforter over your shoulders and sits beside of you.

The doctor is a younger man this time and his presence is calming.

“Nothing seems to be permanently damaged. Hot tea should fix it in a few hours. The pain will fade eventually,” he says. “How long,” Mark asks, “Will she be in pain for?” The doctor pauses, “Hard to say. A day or two? But she should be back to speaking within a few hours.” Mark nods, “That’s all. You’re dismissed.” The doctor leaves a moment later.

Mark kisses your temple, “I’m going to get some hot tea. Just relax.” You don’t have the energy to fight. To protest.

You snuggle under the covers, ignoring the fact it’s still sunlight outside. A few moments later, the door opens again. You tense. “Just me,” Mark says, crawling into bed behind you, “Sit up, you need some tea.”

You reluctantly pull yourself up and take the tea from his hands.

After the first few sips, your throat relaxes. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, taking another sip of tea. Mark frowns, “What are you apologizing for?” You turn to him, “You were busy today and I—“

“The Earth will still be there tomorrow,” he interrupts, “Your health and safety are far more important.” You swallow, wincing at the pain it causes, “That girl … were you two a thing?” He grumbles, “No. and we never will be. She’s strong, yes, but she’s not my mate. She’s not you. You’re stronger than her in ways she can’t understand.” You nod, taking another sip of tea.

“I’m serious,” he says.

It’s a lie. You’re not strong. You’re weak. You abandoned your teammate and your friend because you were afraid of death. You complied with an alien emperor because he was too strong.

“Maybe she’s right,” you mumble, “Why do you want to … reproduce with me anyways?” Mark is silent.

For too long.

“Our offspring deserves a mother. A parent,” he says slowly. You look at him, “And you?” “I have a job— conquering this planet and protecting its life. An offspring is simply to reproduce. To lengthen my bloodline,” he explains.

“And if you didn’t have to do that,” you ask, “Would you still want kids?”

Mark turns away.

“With you? I’d want anything.”

masterlist

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: @heiankyonoeiyuukun , @maddyb-rapps , @bluerrie , @fruticake , @mileskisser , @nappingnai , @lingxio , @missybabes

That is not at all where I was planning to take this chapter but now I leave you with a cliffhanger (?)

Anyways, you guys are great as always!! Love you and thank you for all the support!!

||part three|| ||part five||

[ashes-of-rozes]

Mark Grayson:

- All He Thinks About is Me || x afab!reader

⤷ Mark loves loving you and loves it even more when you love him

Variants:

- In Chicago, I Feel It || x afab!reader || viltrumite mark

⤷ The world’s is over. Chicago burned first. Then Mark found you and now your life is over.

[ashes-of-rozes]

Jason Todd:

- When It Happened to Me || x fem!reader

⤷ You get kidnapped and tortured and your fiancé freaks out

[ashes-of-rozes]

In Chicago, I Feel It

༼Part Three༽

Warnings: this is mainly fluff, still darker themes, cancer mentioned, mark kills for you (not shown, but it’s romantic), I fully believe in human ignorant Mark who doesn’t understand why humans are so confusing, mentions of pregnancy, panic attacks, vomiting

The sun filtering in from the window is what woke you the next morning.

The brightness burns your eyes and you immediately turn onto your opposite side, freezing when you see Mark less than an inch away. Staring at you.

“Uh,” you clear your throat, “Good morning?” He’s silent for so long you think he’s asleep. When he does speak, his voice is gruff, like he hadn’t spoken yet today, “I want to take you somewhere today.” You blink, “Mark?”

He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you with wide eyes, “You called me by my name.” You swallow, “Am I not allowed to? You never really gave me rules—“ He gently grabs your chin, gaze curious, “Humans are so weird. Are names not considered special for relationships?”

Relationships?

“Usually, sure,” you nod, looking away. Mark frowns, confused, “But not all the time?” You look back at him. Did he really not know? The conqueror of Earth doesn’t know?

“In romantic relationships, pet names are used more,” you explain, “names like baby or love. I like more personal ones, though.” Mark stares, “We are … in a romantic relationship?”

“No!”

Oh god, that is what it sounded like, wasn’t it?

Your face burns hot with humiliation, “I was just giving an example.” He hums, “Either way, humans are confusing. Get dressed, I wish to spend the day with you.” Your stomach twists uncomfortably, “You don’t have like … dictator things to do?” He glares and you know you should’ve worded that differently. “No,” he says, voice sharp, “I want to show you something. And I cleared my schedule until after lunch. I want to make sure you’re eating.” You stare at him, then look down at your pajamas, “I don’t have any other clothes.” His eyes follow yours.

“Right. I’ve got that covered. Check the closet,” he instructs, letting go of your chin. You look at him like he’s lost his mind. Well, he invaded a planet so he probably lost that a long time ago.

Slowly, you crawl out of bed, walking over to the closet. You stand in front of the white door, looking over your shoulder and back at Mark. He raises an eyebrow, motioning for you to get on with it.

You open the door, pausing.

“What— when did this happen,” you ask, staring at the colorful clothes, void of white and grey. “I had a few humans go shopping and they dropped things off during the night,” he explained. Your face pales and you turn back to him, “People were in here while I was asleep?” He nods, “Yes. You drool in your sleep, by the way.”

Angry and embarrassed, you grab a random shirt and a pair of shorts, “That’s creepy!” “That you drool? Agreed,” Mark nods. You glare at him, “That people were in here while I was asleep. It’s creepy. I don’t like it.” He stares at you, “Alright. Won’t happen again.” You freeze, “What?”

“Get dressed,” he said, waving a dismissive hand, “I have a schedule to keep.”

You sigh, closing the closet and walking to the bathroom to change.

〤〤〤

Outside of the room is just as bare as the inside.

White, hollow walls, motion activated doors, sun roofs placed evenly apart to provide natural light during the day and solar panels on the roof for light at night. Everywhere looks the exact same. You’re lost after the third right turn.

Mark leads you up a set of stairs, you’re right behind him. He pauses so suddenly you bump into him, stumbling back. He turns, catching you before you fall down the stairs. “Sorry,” he mumbles, lifting you effortlessly back into his arms, “Heard something.” You give him a weird look but let him carry you up the stairs.

He apologized?

Right?

Or maybe you’re finally going mental.

He pushes open the door and the warmth of the sun has your muscles relaxing.

“The roof,” you ask, confused. He sets you down and points to the far side, “Green house.” You frown, looking at him, raising your hand to show him the bracelet, “What am I supposed to do.” Mark gently grabs the bracelet, twisting it between his fingers, “I don’t want you to think you are trapped here. You’re safe here. Controlled, but safe. Yes, I had to restrict your powers, but I’m not throwing you in a room and depriving you of sunlight until you decide you want to mate with me.”

Your throat tightens.

“You’re hard to understand,” you admit. He does horrible things but with you he’s softer, sincere. You get whiplash every word that comes from him. He smirks, which is the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen on him. “Go look at the garden,” he instructs, ignoring you.

You’re expecting it to be some big joke. Maybe he really was gonna throw you in a room until you decided you wanted to have sex with him. But when you open the door, the inside is filled with plants. You take a deep breath. It feels like home.

“Do you like it?”

You look back at him, leaning against the door frame. The smirk gone, face unreadable once again. You nod, “This is what you wanted to show me?” He nods, “I had a few people put it together last week.”

“Last—“ you pause, “I’ve been here two days.” He furrows his eyebrows, “Yes.”

This has to be the most confusing day of your life.

“My father said it was a good idea to give you freedom. It’s how him and my mother got along,” he explains, “I spoke to your friend about you. Eve? She cried a lot. I don’t understand why.” The world comes to such an abrupt stop you have to swallow to not vomit, “Eve? Is she—“

“Alive,” he says, “For now. She’s proven to be a great help persuading humans to join our empire.” You swallow the lump in your throat, “Where is she?” “In a cell, stripped of her powers,” he replies, “She keeps asking about you. Doesn’t believe me when I tell her you abandoned her.”

That’s not…

You didn’t…

Mark pushes himself off the door frame and walks closer. You take a step back. He pauses, “I thought you would like to know your friend is okay.” The world under your feet starts to spin and you grow dizzy.

Mark frowns, “You look sick.”

You feel sick.

Your stomach churns uncontrollably. Mark grabs you, barely managing to get you out of the green house before you hurl. Tears of pain fill your eyes as you vomit the food you ate last night. It’s mainly stomach acid which is more painful. You scramble to keep your hair from your face. Mark beats you to it, pulling your hair back with one hand, keeping you upright with the other.

You cough up the last bit before a sob rips from your throat. Mark doesn’t say anything, just keeps your hair back. Never in your life did you see yourself in this position, puking over guilt and being held by an alien while you cry.

You cry for at least an hour. Mark says nothing, showing no signs of discomfort from holding you for so long. With a sniffle, you grab your shirt, wiping off dried vomit and tears. You grimace at the fabric.

“Take it off.”

His sudden voice startles you. “What,” you ask, voice cracking. Throat sore from everything. “Take it off,” he says again, “It’s dirty.” “I’m not walking around in a bra,” you snap. You should check your attitude but your mind’s still hazy, foggy. Too jumbled to be scared.

He slowly helps you fall to your knees, making sure you’re uninjured and his hands finally leave. You stare at the contents of your stomach drying on the concrete of the building. You here shuffling and when you look back, Mark’s shirt is off.

“Take it off,” he says again, tone deeper than before. More annoyed saying it the third time around. You hesitate another moment before slowly sliding off your shirt. “Here,” he offers his own, “To cover yourself with. I’m taking you back to the room.”

Dread wraps around your throat, “No!” He glares, “Yes. You’re in distress and you need to eat and wash yourself. I’ll finish showing you around at a different time.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you plead, “I don’t wanna go back. I’m sorry i-if I did something wrong but—“

“You’re not in trouble,” he says, “My job as your mate is to make sure you’re taken care of. You’re more important than a few plants.” Your breath hitches, heart thumping heavily with a mix of emotions swirling around your heart like a hurricane.

You reach out with shaky hands, taking his shirt and sliding it on. You look down. The shirt is two sizes too small on him and yet feels two sizes too big for you.

He takes your dirty shirt.

“I can carry that,” you mumble. He doesn’t respond, simply helping you stand, legs still shaky.

The walk back to the room is silent and awkward. At least for you, it’s awkward. You’re not sure if Mark can feel emotions.

His shirt smells nice; like Badin berries, laundry soap, and smoke. It’s a weird combination but it suits him somehow.

He leads you to the bathroom, “Wash up, I’ll order food.”

You take a quick shower, scrubbing your skin until it’s red and raw, trying to wash away the lingering guilt. It doesn’t work but at least you're clean. Mark left your pajama’s on the sink so you change while you’re in there, looking at yourself in the mirror.

You look terrible.

You tread out of the bathroom, feet dragging. Mark seems to be reading something but he looks up the second the door’s open. His eyes are wide, curious and yet somehow still annoyed. He pats the opposite side of the bed and you let your feet drag against the cold floor, immediately climbing under the covers.

“The floor is cold,” you mumble, “I miss my house slippers.” Mark ignores you, “Rest. Food is on the way. I’m going to go deal with the doctor.” You watch him climb out of bed and walk to the door, “Mark?” He pauses and turns back to you.

“What are you going to do to him,” you ask. He stares at you, like he’s debating actually answering. “Talk,” he says eventually, “I’m going to get his side of the story.”

You sigh, relieved.

“And then I’m going to kill him.”

Mark’s gone before you can protest.

You stare at the door. You want to chase after him, beg him to let the man be, but your body doesn’t move. Like there are invisible chains keeping you tied to the bed. It’s hard to breathe.

A few minutes later, the door opens and Katie walks in, looking a lot less nervous than yesterday. “Miss,” she smiles, “Where would you like your food?” You point to the side table. She nods, walking over and setting the tray down.

“Katie. Can I ask you something?”

She looks up and nods.

“Do you think it’s a good thing to give up to the Viltrumites,” you ask. She pauses, “I … well, their technology saved my dad’s life. He was dying— stage three lung cancer— and this morning he ran for half a mile. I’m grateful for their technology.” You nod, “And the Viltrumites themselves?”

She seems more nervous to answer that, “I’ve really only ever talked to Mark. And I can’t get a read on him. But I’m not dead, so … I’ll take it.” You huff out a small, tired laugh, “And you’re okay? You’re safe?” She nods, “Me and my dad are held up in this tiny apartment a few miles from here.”

“Wait wait wait— you don’t have to stay here,” you ask. She shakes her head, “The pay is pretty decent too.”

No. You can’t do this right now. Your world’s been turned upside down enough for today.

You nod, “Thank you, Katie.” She smiles and leaves.

You stare at the food until your eyes grow heavy. You should eat. You’re hungry. But you pass out before you can.

〤〤〤

“Your food’s cold.”

You stir, groaning, “I’m trying to sleep.”

“The suns down,” Mark says. You flutter your eyes open, looking up at him, “Tired.” He sighs, frustrated, “You need to eat.” You sigh and sit up, “Listen—“

Mark shoves a spoon in your mouth. You huff, but swallow the soup. Your eyes flutter shut. “Oh … that’s good,” you mumble. Mark nods, offering the bowl, “Eat.” You take the bowl, getting a few more bites in as Mark settles into bed beside of you.

“The doctor…is he—“

“Yes,” Mark nods, “No one touches you like that and lives. He’s lucky I let him live to see the next sunrise.” Your stomach twists into an uncomfortable knot.

What is this guy's deal?

“You can’t kill everyone who hurts me, touches me, or makes me uncomfortable,” you say. He glares at you, “And why not?” “Because— that’s just— you can’t, okay,” you sigh. He nods, “But some people?”

“No one!”

“One person.”

You glare at him.

He glares back.

You sigh, “You’re not gonna listen to me anyways, are you?” He shakes his head no.

And suddenly the soup is the most interesting thing in the universe. And your stomach’s uneasy.

You sigh and hand him the soup. He frowns, putting it back on the nightstand, “You’re not going to eat anymore?” You shake your head and lay down, pulling the covers up to your chin, “I told you I was tired.”

He sighs and you hear rustling and then Mark's bare chest is suddenly pressed against your back.

You stiffen as he drapes an arm over your waist. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. About how you want names to be special,” he says, “Plants are special to you, correct?” You nod, stiff. “I was thinking something along the lines of my flower. How does that sound,” he mumbles, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you force yourself to keep the smile away.

“You thought about that,” you ask. “Of course I did,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “It’s my job to make you happy.”

“Thought it was to take care of me.”

“By making you happy,” he says, “Now hush. And sleep.” You roll your eyes but comply. Mark grip around your waist tightens as you relax.

“Goodnight, my flower.”

You sigh, a soft, tired smile on your face at the pet name, “Goodnight.”

masterlist

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: @heiankyonoeiyuukun , @maddyb-rapps , @bluerrie , @fruticake

Comment if you wanna be added to the tag list!!

Also, I would love any feedback you have with this story! This is only my third ever ‘x reader’ fic so please tell me if it’s bad!

P.S. who wants to finally have mark get them pregnant? Besides me, ofc.

||part two|| ||part four||

[ashes-of-rozes]

In Chicago, I Feel It

༼Part Two༽

Warnings: creepy men, possessive behavior, DARK ROMANCE, mentions of pregnancy, dom/sub undertones if you squint, part 3(?)

The hot water is probably the best thing you’ve had in ages.

Beside the sink was a shelf lined with white fluffy towels. You earthly pluck two off, wrapping up your hair and the other covering your body. You wipe a streak to clear the steam off the mirror, finally looking at yourself for the first time in three weeks.

Mark was right about one thing. You were definitely malnourished. Your cheeks were more hollow than you remember, a few veins visible on your neck, the outline of your collarbones visible.

When was the last time I ate?

The question makes you pause. You didn’t know the answer. Your stomach rumbled.

You take a deep breath and exit the bathroom. Your eyes land on a girl tucking in the corners of the bed. “Uhm��hi,” you call out. The girl startles and turns around, “I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you come out.” You smile, laughing awkwardly, “Uhm…” The girl smiles, gesturing towards the desk, “Mr. Grayson told me to ask you to change into those. It’s traditional Viltrumite female night clothing, but he said he’d figure out other appropriate options later.”

You blink, shocked by her happy attitude, “Thank you. My name’s—“

“I know,” she smiles, turning back to finish up with the fresh sheets, “Everyone thought you died when they invaded. Since you stopped giving a shit.” You open your mouth to snap back but stoped, knowing it’s true. You clear your throat and walk over to the desk.

The fabric is the same as the bedding, white with a grey outline and buttons. It’s sickingly similar to pajama sets you’ve seen in stores. You really don’t want to change into Viltrumite clothes but your suit is torn and covered in dirt and blood. You grab the clothes, excusing yourself back to the bathroom to change.

The clothes are a bit bigger, hanging loosely on your shoulders and hips.

When you emerge from the bathroom again, two more people are in the room. One is an older gentleman in a white lab coat and the other is another lady who looks much less happy to be here.

“Nice to meet you,” the doctor smiles, “I was sent in to patch you up and make sure you’re okay.” You nod, glancing at the other lady. She held a tray of food in her hands, trembling slightly, staring at the ground. You frown and walk over to her, ignoring the doctor.

“What’s your name,” you ask once in front of her. She jumps, “K-Katie.” You smile, gently laying your hand over hers, “Nice to meet you. I’ll take this off your hands.” You slowly take the try of food from her, “Thank you.” She nods stiffly and practically scrambles out of the door.

“I really need to make sure you’re okay,” the doctor chimes in again, “Please, sit down.” You stare at the door.

There had to be a way out of this god forsaken prison, right? Maybe Katie knew. Maybe she could help.

You hesitate another moment before walking over to the desk, setting the food on it and sitting down, “Is this check up really necessary?” He nods, “Yes. I must clear you for activities.” You squint, an uneasy feeling swarming in your gut. The doctor settles beside of you, a polite ‘grandpa’ smile on his face as he searches through his bag.

He digs out a stethoscope and a few bandages. “Take off your shirt please,” he instructs. The girl making the bed lifts her head, confused. You glance back at her, “Why, exactly?” “I need to make sure you aren’t hiding any injuries,” he said. “Yeah,” you clear your throat, “Look, I’m sure you’re just doing you’re job, but there’s no injury on my stomach and I know how doctors work, your stethoscope can work with my shirt on.” He frowns, “Miss—“

“Just check whatever you can and sterilize my wounds. I’ll tell him your exam was very through,” you insist. The doctor stares to the point you’re uncomfortable. He nods, “Alright.”

He gives you some medicine for the pain which works weirdly fast.

He puts in the ear pieces of his stethoscope and puts it to your chest, resting the flat of his palm against your breast. You shift uncomfortably, looking everywhere but down.

“Sit still, please.”

“You’re—“

“Sit. Still.”

A feeling of uneasiness makes your skin go cold. This is the most uncomfortable you’ve been at a doctor since you were five. You take a deep breath and force yourself to go still. He may be a human, but he has the power to decide your future here.

〤〤〤

The sky is more clear here, cloudless and bright.

“You look better.”

You startle at the sudden voice, not having heard him enter. Mark’s glare is indifferent but a little more relaxed than when he left hours ago, “You’re still here.” You nod. He sighs, running his hand through his hair, “The doctor said he cleared you.” You nod, jaw tensing at the mention of the doctor.

Mark gives you a curious look, “You don’t seem happy about that.” You shrug, turning back to look out of the window, looking at the stars. Mark sighs, walking towards you, “I have been given one restriction regarding you staying here.” He places a hand on your shoulder.

You turn to look at him, eyes falling to the bracelet in his hand. “This will not only signify you’re mine, but also restricts your powers. Just until I can trust you,” he says, “Give me your wrist.” You swallow, a heavy weight on your shoulders. Do you do it and lose part of yourself? Realistically, you know you can’t win in a fight even if you could injure him. With a heavy weight on your chest, you offer him your wrist.

He latches the bracelet on.

“Viltrumite strength is the only thing that can break that,” he says, “Now tell me what’s wrong.” You blink, looking up at him, “What do you mean?” Mark frowns, angry, “I mentioned the doctor and you got tense. What happened?” You shake your head, “Nothing.” He stares at you. He looks angrier than usual. “He made me uncomfortable,” you blurt out. Mark doesn’t care. You know he doesn’t. Why are you bothering him with your paranoia?

“Uncomfortable,” he repeats, his voice lowering with each syllable. He’s silent, staring down at the ground, “What did he do?” A shudder of fear hits you so hard it makes you dizzy.

He looks so mad.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Nothing,” you mumble, looking back out at the stars. He grabs your chin, grip harsh, and forces you to look at him, “What. Did. He. Do?” You swallow down the yelp of pain. “J-Just weird,” you stutter out, “Asked me to take off my shirt and then just rested his hand on my boob when he was listening to my heart.”

His grip on your chin tightens painfully. A small whine punches from your lips and Mark’s grip immediately loosens but he doesn’t let you go. “Did you,” he asks. You frown, “Did I what?” He glares at you, his hand moving from your chin, resting on your chest, fiddling with the top button, “Undress.” Your breath hitches, one of your hands grabbing his wrist. But he doesn’t do anything except fiddle with the button.

“No.”

A small breath leaves his lips but he looks furious. “You sure,” he asks. “Why would I lie about that,” you ask. He shakes his head, “I’ll deal with him.” You swallow, grip tightening on Mark’s wrist, “Deal with him?”

“Yes,” is all he says, “Tomorrow. You need sleep.” You shake your head, “I wanna look at the stars. I haven’t seen them in a while.” Mark stares at you then nods, “Alright. I’ll get ready for bed but you must join me and give up the stars when I’m ready.”

Your throat runs dry, “I’m not ready for—“

“To sleep,” he interrupts, “The stars will be there tomorrow.” You take a deep breath and nod.

Mark leans forward placing a lingering kiss to your forehead. You flinch, eyes casting to the ground.

Maybe it’s a universal soldier thing but Mark’s in and out of the shower in under two minutes. His hair is damp when he emerges from the bathroom, wearing pajamas similar to yours but just the pants. Your eyes are glued to his abdomen.

Something hot swirls in your gut.

Then disgust ripples through you for thinking that. This man— this murderer— may have a nice body but you should not be attracted to it. It’s wrong. It’s repulsive.

He climbs into bed and turns on the lamp which turns off the big light.

Fancy fucker.

He stares at you, raising an eyebrow. You hesitate before deciding to just not fight it. You walk over, climbing into bed, sticking as close to the edge as possible.

“Goodnight.”

The word catches you off guard. You glance at him before turning your back to him, staring out the window, “Goodnight.”

masterlist

@maddyb-rapps you asked me to tag you, so here you are lovely!

Let me know if you guys want a part 3 and/or if you want this to turn into a story!! Also, let me know if you want longer chapters! Anything I write that’s over 2,000 words usually doesn’t do well but I’ll give the people what they want :D

||part one|| ||part three||

[ashes-of-rozes]

In Chicago, I Feel It

Relationship: Viltrumite!Mark x afab!reader

Summary: The world is over. Chicago burned first. Mark found you and now your life is actually over.

Tags: reader has (plant) powers, cursing (come on guys), war, violence, DARK ROMANCE, could also be classified as horror/gore, mentions/thoughts of harassment (very mild), slightly ooc, Viltrumite!Mark is evil but he’s soft just for you, song, part 2 (?)

The world was forever shrouded in a shade of grey.

When the Viltrumites invaded— yesterday? Two months ago? It’s hard to tell— everything went dark overnight. Literally.

The big cities were the first to go. Chicago. Then New York. Then Los Angeles. Then Orlando. Like dominos, the cities fell, crushing people under the weight of several tons of concrete.

And somehow, somehow, you’ve managed to survive this long. You never sided with a resistance but you ran away from the invaders too. The Viltrumite who ruled called himself Mark. The name haunted you, kept you up at night.

You had a friend named Mark before this all started. He’s probably dead. Everyone else you knew was.

Food was scarce and hard to find if you never picked a side. You heard rumors that the humans under the Viltrumite’s rule didn’t have to worry about food. Or clean water. Or their lives.

It sounded so tempting.

And yet you never surrendered. Was comfort worth the cost of your freedom? Was your life more sacred because you had powers? None of it felt fair. None of it felt right.

Your skin constantly crawled with guilt— the planet you once swore to protect under the safety of a mask crumbled to a fine powder and you did nothing. You had teamed up with the Guardians to try and stop them but the last time you saw them, Eve was the only one still breathing. You panicked.

You didn’t want to die. Especially a painful one. The thought was terrifying.

As you retreated into the Earth, your eyes met with the Viltrumite in charge for this whole thing. Even far away you could see the blaze brightening up his tired eyes. He stared at you, eyes watching as you sunk underground. He didn’t even try to stop you.

Thankfully, your powers let you hide from most of them. You could cover up your rotten smell with flowers or smell like the burning Earth under your feet. You could go two hours laying underground with no oxygen so small spontaneous naps were your only friend.

But your luck was running out. You could feel it. The line you were balancing on was wobbling and nearing its end.

Screams echoed from far away. You winced, sympathetic with their pain and fear. But you were selfish and went the exact opposite direction, desperate to cling to the tainted atmosphere another day. The screams stop and you feel a chill snake down your spine. You look over your shoulder, seeing the orange glow of a distant war.

You round the corner of a crumpled building when you bump into something. The action surprises you and you stumble back onto your ass, vines instinctively curled around your hands, the dirt under your palms wet. You didn’t want to know if it was water or blood.

You look up and your breath catches in your throat, “You-“ He cuts you off with a single raised hand. Fear seeps into your veins, black and poisonous. “You’re the one from three weeks ago,” he says, calm voice making you sick.

No.

It’s only been three weeks?

His eyes scan you, traveling up and down your body like your prey for him, “I looked into you. I was curious about the defender of Earth who coward behind the world, pretending to be a hero.” This man seemed to know everything about you from meeting you two seconds those weeks ago. He takes a step forward and panic overtakes your sense to think clearly; thorn painted vines shoot out from under your palms and towards him. Mark holds out one hand, catching the vines in his grasp. With his left hand, he pulls the vines from the ground. He takes another step forward and pauses, looking down at his palms.

Blood.

He tosses the vines to the side, glaring at his hands. Three small cuts, but sharp enough to bleed.

Fear wraps around you like a wet suit, clinging to your skin with your panic-induced sweat. You scramble back on your hands, the ground swallowing you more and more with each inch. You’re not even aware your sinking.

“You made me bleed,” he says, still staring at his hands. Would apologizing help your chances of staying alive? He looks back in your direction, “You injured a Viltrumite Soldier.” Tears fill your eyes but you don’t get the chance to let them fall. Mark is in front of you before you finish blinking, pulling you out of the ground like it’s nothing. “You’re coming with me.”

It’s not a request or a command. It’s a simple statement. “No,” you manage to squeak out, “Please. I’m sorry.” He stares at you, his face unreadable. “Your apologies mean nothing,” he says. The tears finally start to fall and you squirm in his hold, “No!” His glare hardens, his grip tightening but he starts flying. Dread wraps around your heart like an overgrown weed and you reach down, pleading for the Earth to save you.

Nothing happens.

Why would it?

You didn’t save the Earth, it shouldn’t save you.

You fall limp and his grip only tightens, “Your powers are meaningless if you’re not surrounded by natural materials, aren’t they?” You don’t answer, tears falling from your chin and dripping towards the ground several thousand feet below. You don’t have to answer. He knows what it is.

By the time he flies over Milwaukee, your tears have stained a clean path onto your dirty face. Your eyes grow heavy as you watch the world crumble beneath you. Before you can fight it, your eyes fall shut, surrendering to your future.

〤〤〤

“Wake up.”

The voice barely registers in your empty mind before the air leaves your lungs.

Your eyes snap open, instinctively calling for the Earth but the only thing under your palms are silk sheets and— wait. You take a deep breath, eyes focusing on your surroundings. The room is white and mainly bare. It consists of the bed you were thrown on, a small empty desk in the corner, what’s possibly a closet, and a bathroom with the door open that looks just as hospitalized as the rest of the place.

Your throat tightens and you manage to gather enough courage to look at him, “Where … are we?” Mark stares at you, like he’s considering answering. Eventually, he does, floating down until his feet hit the floor soundlessly, “My quarters within the new liaison building on Earth.”

Huh?

You nod, mind still jumbled and confused. “Your … quarters,” you mumble to yourself, staring at the silk bedding beneath your fingers, “Not prison?” He huffs, almost sounding amused but mainly empty, “No. This won’t be much different for you, though.” You pinch the white fabric between your fingers, freezing. “Worry not, if I wanted you dead or thrown in jail, I would’ve done so already,” he says. Like that’s somehow supposed to bring you comfort. You swallow, throat dry, “Then what am I here for?”

“Reproduction.”

Fear hits you again but it’s different this time. Darker.

Every muscle goes taught with tension.

The mattress dips with the added weight when Mark sits down, “You don’t need to worry. It will be painless. I’ll ensure it is.” You didn’t even realize you were crying until a tear fell onto the sheet.

“You’re shaking.”

And maybe you are. You’re not entirely sure. There’s a hand on your calf, gentle but possessive, “You do not wish to reproduce with me?” You immediately shake your head no. But there was no point in fighting it, if he wanted to, he’d easily overpower you.

The silence stretches for a long time. You can’t look up, tears soaking the sheet below you.

“Okay.” Mark stands and you turn to look at him, breathing labored, “…okay?” He nods, “Viltrumites do not mate without consent. I’ll wait until you are ready.” Your breath stuttered. Part of you was relieved that he wasn’t forcing you and the other part didn’t believe him. “And if I never am,” you ask, voice low. “You’ll except it one day,” he says, like he somehow knows the future, “Until then it’s my job to make sure my mate is healthy and well-kept.”

Mark reaches out a hand, “And not only have you soaked my bedding, you’ve gotten it muddy by simply existing on it.” A fresh waves of tears come back, scared for your safety. “You need a shower, I have work to do. I’ll send someone in for the bed.” You blink, staring at his hand. “You’re injured and malnourished, get clean and you’ll be taken care of,” he continues.

“Do I have a choice,” you ask. It’s a stupid question. “Not in your health,” he says, hand still outstretched, “Not today at least. Behave, and you’ll get freedom.” You inhale shakily and take his hand. He pulls you close and you climb off the bed with shaky legs. They’d gone numb a while ago. Mark gives you a curious look and let’s go.

Your knees buckle almost instantly but he catches you before you hit the ground. He doesn’t say anything else, picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. It’s a stand up shower.

Mark sets you on the edge of the sink, “I really must go, but I’ll start the water.” He turns on the very complicated looking faucet and straightens back up, turning back to look at you. “Get cleared from the doctor today and you can roam around all you want tomorrow,” he informs. You nod.

He turns to leave, pausing at the door. “Don’t try and escape,” he says, back muscles flexing from tension, “I will find you and you will not like me when I do.” With that, he closes the bathroom door and leaves.

masterlist

||part two||

[ashes-of-rozes]

All He Thinks About is Me

Relationship: Mark Grayson x AFAB!Reader

Tags: 18+, MDNI, college, sub!Mark, clingy!Mark, p in v, unprotected penetration, reader is on birth control!! (Still, use a condom :), reader is freaky (!!!), praise kink, not beta read

Notes: this man is whipped for you. But it’s okay because you spoil him like he deserves to be. Do you have a thing for him covered in blood? Absolutely. He’s hot like that, babes, it’s okay :D

Also, this is only my second ever xreader fic and my first ever MLW smut!! Feedback is welcomed!

Summary: mark loves loving you and loves it even more when you love him.

Word Count: 4.174

〤〤〤

“pleaseeeeeeee?” His hands clasped together looking at you with those big, blue eyes.

“Mark,” your voice is stern but affectionate, “I told you I wasn’t helping you with anymore missed work.” He frowns, “But it’s hard.” You sigh, “Yeah, yeah. The whole hero-student life balance schmidt. Heard it once or twice.” He smiles, “So you’ll let me copy off of you?”

“No.”

He frowns, laying his head in your lap, “Pretty please? I’ll get Rex or Eve to cover for me and I’ll take you out on a date…?” You raise an unamused eyebrow, “Bribery? Really?” He huffs, “Is it not going to work?” You stare down at him, thinking it over. On one hand, he really should learn time management better. On the other … when he looks at you like that—

“Ten minutes. Anything you don’t get done is off the table. Deal,” you ask. “And I still get you out for a date,” he asks. You laugh, “The date was your idea. But, yes, you’ll get the date.” Mark smiles and turns to kiss your stomach, “Thank you.” You can’t help the smile that stretches onto your lips, “Don’t thank me ‘til after you’ve finished.” Your fingers comb through his hair. He sighs, melting almost instantly.

“Have I told you how in love with you I am,” he murmurs. “Not in the last twenty minutes, at least,” you reply. He gasps, “How could I go so long without saying it?” You both stare at each other a moment before bursting into soft laughter.

“I’m serious though,” he says after a moment, a private and soft smile on his face, “I love you.” Every part of you just melts. He says it dozens of times a day but it always gets the same reaction from you. “I love you too,” you whisper. He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his cheek against your thighs.

“You’re comfortable,” he mumbles, eyes falling shut. A soft laugh escapes your lips, “Seems so. You tired?” Mark shakes his head, “Relaxed. Comfortable. Happy.” Rare occasions for him. And you’re the cause. You don’t cry. But it’s hard not to. Marks life hasn’t been easy since he got his powers and became Invincible. Being the reason he’s relaxed? Maybe that’s a superpower of your own.

His phone rings.

He groans but doesn’t budge from his position. “You gonna answer it,” you ask, reaching for his phone. “Don’t want to. Earth can defend itself for once,” he mumbles, frowning. “You don’t mean that. And even if you did, you’d still go,” you hand him his phone. He sighs and rolls onto his back, taking his phone. “Yeah,” he glares at the screen, “I gotta go.” He sits up and turns, taking your face in his hands— hands that could destroy the universe— and leaning down to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

He pulls back reluctantly. “I love you,” he says, kissing your cheek against. Just for good measure. “I love you too,” you smile, “Be safe.” He laughs, “I gotta you to come home too. Of course I will be.”

〤〤〤

He’s been gone for hours.

That’s not really anything new. You can watch the fight on the news. Watch him in his natural habitat. His one liners haven’t gotten any better but he’s confident and good at what he does. And damn does he look good doing it.

Maybe you shouldn’t be thirsting for your boyfriend like this. Covered in blood and smirking. But fuck— it’s hard not to.

You make an easy dinner for the both of you in the safety of your dorm room. Nothing fancy or super expensive. But it’s not Ramen. So, it’s basically a five-star meal.

Just after sunset, there’s a knock on your window. You smile before you even turn to see who it is. Mark, showered and devoid of his costume, floating five stories in the air. You climb off your bed and slide open the window.

His lips are on yours instantly.

A surprised noise wells in your throat, but your eyes flutter shut, taking a step back as he floats into your room. Lips still connected. His hands wonder down your side, gently squeezing your hips before grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you off the ground. You smile into the kiss, legs wrapping around his waist. He separates from the kiss a moment later, blindly reaching behind him to shut the window.

He gently squeezes the back of your thighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Missed you,” he mumbles. “You saw me three hours ago,” you point out. “Three hours too long,” he sighs, “Did you see the fight?” You nod, kissing his temple, “What they could cover, yeah. You did great out there.” He sighs, flying over to your bed.

“Wait. Wait. You’re gonna squish dinner,” you laugh softly. He freezes, mid-air, hovering above your bed. He lifts his head up just enough to see two lukewarm meals on the mattress. “You made this … for us,” he asks softly. “I know it’s not much,” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed. He shakes his head, his grip tightening. He kisses your neck softly, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He adjusts his grip on you and slowly lowers the both of you back onto your bed, carefully avoiding dinner. He lets you settle before handing you a plate with a soft, tired smile.

You eat in relative silence. The TV playing at a soft volume to fill the quietness of the room.

When you’re both done with dinner, you take his plate, stake it on yours and set it on your nightstand. You’ll get it later. Probably. The second the plates are set down, arms are wrapped around you again.

Mark noses along the back of your neck, “I’m tired.” His hands gently press into your thighs, massaging the skin under his fingers, “Can I stay here for the night?” Like he’d ever have to actually ask. “Of course you can—“

You yelp softly as he lifts you up and lays you back on the bed, back pressed flushed against his chest. “I hate it when you do that,” you mumble. “No you don’t,” he kisses under your ear.

No I don’t.

Once again, the TV is all that fills the silence. It’s peaceful. Relaxing.

“You know … I was reminded of you earlier,” Mark starts, voice barely above a whisper. “Oh?” He hums, placing a kiss to the back of your neck, “Earlier— during the fight. I was rescuing this couple. The entire time I was flying them to safety, she was telling him he was an idiot for just standing there. But the second their feet hit the ground?” His hands gently press wanders under your shirt, finger dragging up the soft skin. “She was all over him,” he mumbles, nipping at your neck.

A soft shudder of electricity rushes down your spine.

“Reminded me of you,” he hums, finger tracing just under your breasts. “Cause she called him an idiot,” you tease softly. He snorts, and lets his hand gently grab one of your boobs. You gasp softly, eyes darting down to see where his hand is under your shirt.

Fuck.

“Cause she took charge,” he corrects, squeezing your breast just in the edge of too much. You bite your lip, eyes squeezing shut, “Thought you were tired.” He laugh softly, “Never tired enough for you.”

“Are you sure about this?���

“I love it when you ask,” he gently presses his hips into ass. You can feel his half-hard cock against you. “Yes,” he confirms, “Please, baby. It’s been so long.”

“It’s been two days.”

He whines and begins to slowly grind against your backside, “That’s two whole days. Pretty please? I’ll be so good for you.”

Well you had wanted a night of relaxation and sleep. But there was no way you could deny him when he spoke like that.

You grab his arm, slowly prying his hand off your chest. “No touching until I say,” you order. A soft, pathetic sound is punched out of him but he lets you move his hand off.

“On your back.”

He doesn’t hesitate, rolling onto his back. You take a deep breath a sit up, turning to look down at him. There’s a soft pink flush on his cheeks already and he’s smiling. That same smile Invincible gets. You’re reminded of earlier— when he was wearing that smile covered in blood.

You reach over, slowly tracing a single finger down his chest, “One day … you’re going to have to let me fuck you with your suit still on. Bloody or not.” His eyes widen and the color in his cheeks gets a deeper shade of red. “You want …” he pauses, thinking. Then, “Even if I’m covered in blood?” You smirk, “As long as it’s not yours? Abso-fucking-lutely.” He groans, eyes fluttering shut.

His cock twitches, “Fuck.”

Your smirk widens and you move to straddle him, hovering just enough above his cock to tease, “Do you like that idea?” He nods, immediate and enthusiastically, “Yes.” You chuckle softly, “Of course you do. You’re fucking perfect.” The reaction is immediate. He moans, hips arching into you. A soft laugh leaves your throat.

He’s absolutely adorable like this. You fall deeper in love every time he’s like this. The most powerful man in the world— throwing away his powers, forgetting his hero responsibilities. All of it. For you.

“Please, baby—“

“Shhh,” you coo softly, gently pressing his hips back onto the bed. “I’m not going to make you wait tonight,” you grab the bottom of his shirt, “Arms, baby.” Mark complies instantly, lifting his arms just far enough for the shirt to come off. You aimlessly toss the shirt to the side, eyes glued to the man below you. A soft sound of appreciation leaves your lips and you lean down, connecting your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

You can feel the tension drain from his body. The tightness of his muscles from all the fighting; the almost permanent furrow between his brows; the pain stitched into the very strands of his d.n.a. — all of it melts. The trust he has for you, the devotion, the admiration. He truly is the best man in the universe.

The rest of the Vultrimites can fuck off. The second Mark Grayson was born their whole ‘superior’ beliefs were squashed. They are not the perfect race. But they did create the perfect man. Who is willingly, amazingly, and oh so loudly in love with you.

Slowly, you lower your hips down, starting a soft, slow grind between your bodies. Mark moans. Loud and proud and beautiful. You’re throbbing down to your very core. Your insides are buzzing with want and lust and devotion.

Reluctantly, you pull away from the kiss. Just far enough to breathe, your lips still brushing as you breathe in each other’s air. “Have I told you lately how much I worship the very air you breathe,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his with every word. He whimpers under you, “Baby.”

“You do everything for me. For us. For this planet,” you whisper, trailing messy kisses down his throat, “I love getting you like this. Desperate and vulnerable. You’re not ‘invincible’ here, are you?” You latch on to a spot behind his ear and a quiet, shaky moan comes from under you. You start to grind a little faster against him. He groans softly, tilting his head to give you more room.

You don’t leave marks. Not because he can’t get injured but because it would take hours for it to work and then fade in a day or two. But the idea is nice.

“Baby,” Mark whines, “Baby— please. Please. Touch me.”

The word ‘no’ isn’t your vocabulary when it comes to Mark Grayson. You gently pat his hip, “Lift up, love.” He complies instantly, lifting his hips just enough for you to slide his pants and boxers down to his knees. He kicks them the rest of the way off.

His cock is gorgeous. It always is. Maybe it’s because he’s half Vultrimite or maybe it’s just his desperation every time you guys are like this. But he’s always leaking a fountain. And it’s your favorite thing to drink.

Without warning, you lean down, sucking the head into your mouth. He moans, bucking into your mouth. The taste of his precum explodes on your taste buds as you let him buck into your mouth. He’s never been one to have much self control but it’s kinda nice— that he gets so whiney and desperate just because your lips are around him.

This is probably the second best thing when the two of you have sex. Kissing is always the first but the weight of him in your mouth is relaxing. Easy.

“Baby,” he whines, fingers tangling in his hair. You told him not to touch but telling him would mean getting off. So, you’ll let him do this just this once. He doesn’t do anything, doesn’t try to move you to his liking, just simply keeps his fingers tangled in your hair.

You take him deeper into your mouth, letting your hands roam all over his body. Every brush over the sensitive skin makes him vibrate under you.

“F-Fuck, no— I’m gonna—“

His cock twitches in your mouth and you pull off, licking your lips. He whines, thighs twitching. “Princess,” he pleads. The asshat. He knows you’ll cave every damn time he calls you that. “I still need prep, Mark,” you sigh. You didn’t really want it but he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you.

His cock twitches against your thigh. “Please—“ You cut him off, gently grabbing his hand, “You wanna get me ready and open for you?” A chocked sound punched from his chest, “Yes.” You smile, “Take off my shorts, love.” He scrambles to do just that. He groans appreciatively at the sight of your wet pussy. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, grabbing the hem of your shirt. A pause, his expression growing shy, “Can I?”

You smile softly, “It doesn’t need to come off if your fingers are inside of me.” He pouts, “But I want to see you. All of you. Baby.” You chuckle softly, “I didn’t say no.” Mark instantly starts pulling at your shirt. He throws it in the same direction as your shorts. “Fuck. You— fuck.” He grabs your shoulders, manhandling you till your tits are hovering over his face.

“Mark—“

A startled, deep moan escapes your lips as he laps his lips around your nipple. Your fingers tangle tightly in his hair. He moans, eyes closed, tongue flicking across your nipple at an almost vibrating speed.

“Mark,” you moan. One of his hands wanders down your body, two fingers sliding between your slick folds. A shudder runs down your spine, hips instantly pressing down into his fingers. You squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sudden pleasure ripping through your body.

Without warning, he slips one of his fingers inside. Your body tenses, a silent moan as you arch into him. He settles for a second. Just long enough for you to catch your breath before he starts moving. A startled whine leaves your lips as he brushes over the sensitive spot.

“You’re doing so good,” you pant, burying your face in his sweaty hair, “You’re making me feel so good, my love.” He cranes his neck back, eyes fluttering like he’s having trouble keeping them open. “Please. Please. Say it again,” he pleads, slipping a second finger inside. Your thighs twitch, rutting into his fingers. “You’re making me feel so good,” you mumble, a shaky kiss landing on the top of his head, “You always make me feel good. I don’t need sex for you get me weak in the knees.”

Is it cheesy? Yes. Does he move faster and moan like you’re not sharing a wall with several other students? Also yes.

“Baby. Baby. I can’t—“ his cock twitches. Once. Twice. “I’m so close.”

You’re not even touching him anymore

You reach down and grab the base of his cock, gripping it tightly, striving off his orgasm. A pathetic mewl comes from your boyfriend. “No. No. No. Please. Please.”

“Shhhh,” you coo softly, “I want you to cum in me.”

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum softly, clenching around his fingers, swallowing back a moan. He whines underneath you, “One more. You need one more.” You shake your head. Mark frowns, worried instantly, “Baby, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t hurt you.” You smile softly, gently cupping his cheek, “Tonight is about you.” He nods instantly, eagerly but refuses to remove his fingers, “But if I hurt you—“

“I want it to hurt.” You just blurt it out, ripping it off like a band-aid. He stares up at you, eyes dark and glazed, face red and flushed. He’s so beautiful like this. He doesn’t protest, but he still looks unsure. “Listen,” you whisper, thumb gently wiping across his cheek, “I’m going to sit on your dick. I’m going to ride you until you can’t think. I know my limits, sweetheart. I’ll stop if I need to.” He swallows, sharp and fast.

A moment of hesitation. Then he nods, fingers slowly slipping out, “I want that.” You smile softly, the facades of your dominant persona cracking slightly, “You sure?” You want him powerless not uncomfortable. He nods, “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” You kiss him, soft and slow as you slowly lower yourself down. The tip of his dick has barely slid inside before he breaks away from the kiss, moaning, eyes squeezed shut.

The stretch is painful but perfect. Tethering just on the edge of too much. You take your time sinking down, letting the burn of the stretch and the feel of his cock fill you up. Mark’s a mess under you. His fingers digging into the sheets under him, squirming, breathing hard.

When you sink down on the last few inches, your thighs tremble. Mark moans. And you’re definitely getting a noise complaint tomorrow. He reaches up and wraps his arms around you, pulling you down so your chests are flush together. The sudden movement causes him to brush against your cervix and you bite down on his shoulder to muffle the scream you almost let out.

Once you catch you catch your breath and lean back, noticing the red outline of teeth marks. “Mark,” you whisper, breathless, leaning back as much as he’ll let you to look at him. His eyes are wet with unshed tears and the sight sends a jolt of arousal to your core. He stared at you like you’re everything to him, like the world could be ending right now and he’d choose you. In every dimension.

“I love you,” he chokes out, pulling you closer still, “I love you so much.” The reply is instant, “I love you too.” A soft whimper leaves his lips, “Please? Please move.” You smile, “Pressed against you like this?” He nods instantly, tightening his grip around you, “Want to- need to feel you. Need every single inch of you against me.” You nod and slowly start moving your hips, “Like this?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Fuck. Fuck. That’s it, baby,” he whines, kicking his feet out like it’s taking everything in him to not push in deeper.

It doesn’t matter how much you get him like this, the feel of him inside you, underneath you, surrounding you, it’s almost always overwhelming. To have him trust you, love you, and accept you like this? It’s everything. Before you start crying yourself, you occupy yourself with messy kisses on his neck, your hips moving faster.

Marks loud. Always has been. And it’s wonderful. He doesn’t know how to shut up even when under his girlfriend. He expresses everything he feels. If not with words then with sounds. Beautiful sounds.

Tonight is no exception.

The faster you move your hips the louder he gets. He fucking pathetic and it makes you hot.

“Y-Yes. Yeah. Baby— I can’t— I’m gonna— fuckkkk,” he whines, throwing his head back. You lean back, staring down at him. His body is trembling below you. “I-I’m sorry. Im so sorry. I just can’t hold back. You’re so tight. You feel so good, Princess. Please,” he cries out, a stray tear slipping down his face. You smile softly, leaning down to kiss the corner of his eye, “You can come inside me, sweetheart.”

Marks hold on you tightens and he starts pushing his hips to meet yours. The new pace has him brushing against your cervix and seeing stars. The knot in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter. “I’m cumming— I’m cummingggggg—“

You cup his hand in your face, searing your lips together with a kiss. His thrusts once, twice more before you can feel the warmth spilling inside of you. You moan into his mouth, clenching around him. So close to the edge but not quite there—

One of Marks hands finds its way to your clit, pushing down just enough and moving in circles. White explodes behind your eyes as you climax, squirting all of his dick and thighs. He moans into the kiss and you can feel tears falling.

You break away from the kiss a moment later, looking down at his tear stained face. “Thank you,” he whispers. You laugh softly, gently wiping the tears from his face, “You don’t need to thank me, Mark.” He nods, “I do. Thank you. For everything. For being mine. For letting me have you like this. For—“ You cut him off with a soft kiss before you spontaneously combust.

“Hey, I love you,” you mumble, lips brushing against his cheek. What else are you supposed to say? Expressing you never ending emotions for this man has always been a challenge. “I don’t have words,” you say instead, “that describe how I feel about you. Just know it’s endless and unconditional.” He smiles, “Those are describing words.” You punch his shoulder playfully, “Hate you.”

He smiles, cocky and arrogant like he wasn’t crying two minutes ago, “Pretty sure you just said you loved me.” “Well I changed my mind,” you mumble, a smile growing on your face. Mark gasps, dramatic as always, “How could you?” You both stare at each other for a few long seconds before bursting out in soft laughter.

“Alright,” you sigh, “I’m going to get us something to clean you up. Stay here, alright?” He hums, eyes falling shut, “I don’t think my legs work right now anyways.”

Says the man that can fly.

You laugh softly, slowly sitting up and pulling him out. You wince softly and Marks eyes are on you instantly, worried and guilty. “You said— I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt,” he asks, hands gently resting on your hips. “Nothing I didn’t ask for,” you smile softly, “Now let me go I can feel your cum running down my thighs.” His gaze snaps down and his eyes darken instantly, “Oh fuck. That is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” You giggle softly, “Wanna take a picture so it’ll last longer?” He scrambles to grab his phone. He takes a picture and groans, “Fuck. You-You’re perfect.” You gently poke his chest, “You’re perfect. You’re the artist I’m the muse. Now let me go before my juices dry all over you.”

His face flushes but he hesitates a moment before lettering you go. You steal a quick kiss before climb off of him. You get what you can out of you and wipe the sweat off with a washcloth. Grabbing a separate wash cloth, you wet it and walk back out to him. He stares down at you the entire time you clean him, a look of awe and pure devotion on his face.

“Can I say something crazy,” he asks. You nod, wiping down his thighs. “I know we’re young. Twenty. But … I think you’re it for me,” he mumbles. Your entire body goes rigid and you look up at him, “Mark.” Sensing the tension in the air, he stumbles, “I-I mean I-if only— you don’t— I don’t want you to…”

“Mark,” you cut in, “Sweetheart, you’re it for me too.” The tension in his body drains instantly and he beams. “Get up here,” he makes little grabby hands. How are you supposed to say no to that? He’s mostly clean anyways.

You toss the washcloth behind you and climb back into his arms. Where you belong. “I love you,” he mumbles, taking a deep breath, inhaling the smell of your hair, “Forever.”

“You live for thousands of years,” you mumble. His grip tightens around you, “Forever.” You smile softly, nuzzling into his neck. “In every dimension,” he adds.

“Forever,” you agree.

Forever with Mark Grayson sounds like a dream. Maybe you’ll live it. And if you’re not his forever? At least he’ll be yours.

Forever.

masterlist

[ashes-of-rozes]

Mark Grayson Headcannons:

He doesn't say "I love you" first. Is he head over heels for you? Yes. But he also doesn't think he deserves you so he waits patiently for you to say it first. And when you do? He melts-- absolutely melts. Puddle on the floor.

He is canonically clingy but I see him being a more silent type. Day off work? Bam, he's with you. Even if you do work, if he's available, he's picking you up from your shift. He knows your orders like the back of his hand. He forgets his usual but you want spicy food a certain way? Done.

He flies you everywhere. You haven't taken a car in months. You can sit on his back. He can hold you upright. It doesn't matter-- as long as you're clinging to him, he is ecstatic.

He is horrible at sports but surprisingly really good at Baseball. Just pitching and catching. Do not ask him to bat, he doesn't hit a single one.

He likes your name. He says it. A lot. But when he uses pet names? It’s either: Princess, baby, or love. He mostly saves them for the bedroom but sometimes he’ll just casually drop it in conversation.

I fully believe in bottom Mark but(!) switch Mark makes sense too. He craves someone being in charge when he’s out of his suit. But if you try and take the lead when he’s still suited up? Absolutely not. He doesn’t care if his ear piece is still in, he’ll make you scream.

He might not be around as much as either of you want but he remembers the small things. You once went to a cultural festival and fell in love with a certain dish. So he’ll fly to wherever and pick it up.

He loves body piercings and tattoos. He’s not a huge fan of full coverage ones because he loves your skin but hey, you’re still you. He loves you first.

Also loves tan lines. He knows you hate them but hey loves them. Worships them. Loves to trace around them.

He loves doing skin care with you. Face mask? Slap it on him. Nose strip? He’ll suffer for you. Ice roller? His favorite.

[ashes-of-rozes]

making up for last time

drabble

Nightwing and Red Hood are on a mission. The mission quickly goes south and long story short they’re both restrained. Jason manages to get out but Dick insists on dealing with the bad people first. He can get out of these restraints. Probably.

A few minutes later, the commotion and gun fire subsideds and Jason’s bursting back in. He unhooks Dick’s chains, throws him over his shoulder (still bound at the wrists) and starts booking it.

“What’s the rush little wing?”

“Bomb.”

“Red Hood—“

Jason sets Dick down and goes over to the steadily ticking timer. “Jason,” Dick shouts, wiggling in his restraints, “What the fuck? Let’s just go!” “No! If this goes off, several people will die!”

20 seconds.

“I just need to …” Jason slides out his knife. “The wiring is too messy I can’t—“

12 seconds.

Jason stares down at the bomb. He’s frozen. He doesn’t know what to do. It’s the Joker all over again.

“Jason!”

Dick’s voice snaps him out of it. Right. He knows this. He knows what to do.

6 seconds.

Dick finally manages to get free and scrambles towards his little brother.

3 seconds.

Jason cuts a wire.

Dick throws himself on top of the bomb.

Jason stares down at him, angry and worried, “Dickhead my knife is still— did you just throw yourself on a bomb to protect me?” Dick doesn’t answer. He’s trembling. Terrified. He doesn’t register it never went off. Or Jason’s voice. Or the knife deep into his abdomen.

Jason doesn’t really know what to do. He reaches out, gently poking Dick’s shoulder. Dick’s eyes snap open, pupils shrinking behind the white eyes of his mask, “…Jason?” The voice crack aches Jason to the very strands of his dna. “It’s me,” he nods, “You’re hurt. Our job is done. I’m taking you home.”

Jason doesn’t take him to Blüdahaven. Or Bruce’s. Jason takes him back to the shitty apartment in crime alley, treats the stab wound and wraps Dick up in a Nightwing blanket Damian left over.

He hasn’t said a word, barely flinched at all when Jason was dressing his wounds. Didn’t say anything when Jason pulled off the vigilante suit and slide him into pj’s. He just looks … scared. Like he got a dose of Scarecrow’s fear toxin.

Jason stays with him the entire night, ignoring Oracle and spam calls from Tim and Bruce.

“Dickiebird,” Jason finally asks when the sky is orange and the sun is waking up. Dick finally— finally— looks at him and all he says is, “Is this real?” And Jason doesn’t cry. Jason never cries. But the hesitation, the uncertainty in his older brothers voice makes it hard not to.

“It’s real. I’m real,” Jason confirms. “The bomb didn’t go off,” Dick asks. Jason wants to say he stopped it, but hesitates, “No, it didn’t. You saved ‘em.” Dick shakes his head, “And you?”

“You saved me too,” Jason smiles, “You always do.”

And Dick just … breaks down. And Jason’s awkward about it because he doesn’t understand why, so he just rubs Dick’s back and doesn’t threaten him when he hugs him. He can make one exception.

masterlist

[ashes-of-rozes]

All He Thinks About is Me

Relationship: Mark Grayson x AFAB!Reader

Tags: 18+, MDNI, college, sub!Mark, clingy!Mark, p in v, unprotected penetration, reader is on birth control!! (Still, use a condom :), reader is freaky (!!!), praise kink, not beta read

Notes: this man is whipped for you. But it’s okay because you spoil him like he deserves to be. Do you have a thing for him covered in blood? Absolutely. He’s hot like that, babes, it’s okay :D

Also, this is only my second ever xreader fic and my first ever MLW smut!! Feedback is welcomed!

Summary: mark loves loving you and loves it even more when you love him.

Word Count: 4.174

〤〤〤

“pleaseeeeeeee?” His hands clasped together looking at you with those big, blue eyes.

“Mark,” your voice is stern but affectionate, “I told you I wasn’t helping you with anymore missed work.” He frowns, “But it’s hard.” You sigh, “Yeah, yeah. The whole hero-student life balance schmidt. Heard it once or twice.” He smiles, “So you’ll let me copy off of you?”

“No.”

He frowns, laying his head in your lap, “Pretty please? I’ll get Rex or Eve to cover for me and I’ll take you out on a date…?” You raise an unamused eyebrow, “Bribery? Really?” He huffs, “Is it not going to work?” You stare down at him, thinking it over. On one hand, he really should learn time management better. On the other … when he looks at you like that—

“Ten minutes. Anything you don’t get done is off the table. Deal,” you ask. “And I still get you out for a date,” he asks. You laugh, “The date was your idea. But, yes, you’ll get the date.” Mark smiles and turns to kiss your stomach, “Thank you.” You can’t help the smile that stretches onto your lips, “Don’t thank me ‘til after you’ve finished.” Your fingers comb through his hair. He sighs, melting almost instantly.

“Have I told you how in love with you I am,” he murmurs. “Not in the last twenty minutes, at least,” you reply. He gasps, “How could I go so long without saying it?” You both stare at each other a moment before bursting into soft laughter.

“I’m serious though,” he says after a moment, a private and soft smile on his face, “I love you.” Every part of you just melts. He says it dozens of times a day but it always gets the same reaction from you. “I love you too,” you whisper. He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his cheek against your thighs.

“You’re comfortable,” he mumbles, eyes falling shut. A soft laugh escapes your lips, “Seems so. You tired?” Mark shakes his head, “Relaxed. Comfortable. Happy.” Rare occasions for him. And you’re the cause. You don’t cry. But it’s hard not to. Marks life hasn’t been easy since he got his powers and became Invincible. Being the reason he’s relaxed? Maybe that’s a superpower of your own.

His phone rings.

He groans but doesn’t budge from his position. “You gonna answer it,” you ask, reaching for his phone. “Don’t want to. Earth can defend itself for once,” he mumbles, frowning. “You don’t mean that. And even if you did, you’d still go,” you hand him his phone. He sighs and rolls onto his back, taking his phone. “Yeah,” he glares at the screen, “I gotta go.” He sits up and turns, taking your face in his hands— hands that could destroy the universe— and leaning down to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

He pulls back reluctantly. “I love you,” he says, kissing your cheek against. Just for good measure. “I love you too,” you smile, “Be safe.” He laughs, “I gotta you to come home too. Of course I will be.”

〤〤〤

He’s been gone for hours.

That’s not really anything new. You can watch the fight on the news. Watch him in his natural habitat. His one liners haven’t gotten any better but he’s confident and good at what he does. And damn does he look good doing it.

Maybe you shouldn’t be thirsting for your boyfriend like this. Covered in blood and smirking. But fuck— it’s hard not to.

You make an easy dinner for the both of you in the safety of your dorm room. Nothing fancy or super expensive. But it’s not Ramen. So, it’s basically a five-star meal.

Just after sunset, there’s a knock on your window. You smile before you even turn to see who it is. Mark, showered and devoid of his costume, floating five stories in the air. You climb off your bed and slide open the window.

His lips are on yours instantly.

A surprised noise wells in your throat, but your eyes flutter shut, taking a step back as he floats into your room. Lips still connected. His hands wonder down your side, gently squeezing your hips before grabbing the back of your thighs and lifting you off the ground. You smile into the kiss, legs wrapping around his waist. He separates from the kiss a moment later, blindly reaching behind him to shut the window.

He gently squeezes the back of your thighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Missed you,” he mumbles. “You saw me three hours ago,” you point out. “Three hours too long,” he sighs, “Did you see the fight?” You nod, kissing his temple, “What they could cover, yeah. You did great out there.” He sighs, flying over to your bed.

“Wait. Wait. You’re gonna squish dinner,” you laugh softly. He freezes, mid-air, hovering above your bed. He lifts his head up just enough to see two lukewarm meals on the mattress. “You made this … for us,” he asks softly. “I know it’s not much,” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed. He shakes his head, his grip tightening. He kisses your neck softly, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He adjusts his grip on you and slowly lowers the both of you back onto your bed, carefully avoiding dinner. He lets you settle before handing you a plate with a soft, tired smile.

You eat in relative silence. The TV playing at a soft volume to fill the quietness of the room.

When you’re both done with dinner, you take his plate, stake it on yours and set it on your nightstand. You’ll get it later. Probably. The second the plates are set down, arms are wrapped around you again.

Mark noses along the back of your neck, “I’m tired.” His hands gently press into your thighs, massaging the skin under his fingers, “Can I stay here for the night?” Like he’d ever have to actually ask. “Of course you can—“

You yelp softly as he lifts you up and lays you back on the bed, back pressed flushed against his chest. “I hate it when you do that,” you mumble. “No you don’t,” he kisses under your ear.

No I don’t.

Once again, the TV is all that fills the silence. It’s peaceful. Relaxing.

“You know … I was reminded of you earlier,” Mark starts, voice barely above a whisper. “Oh?” He hums, placing a kiss to the back of your neck, “Earlier— during the fight. I was rescuing this couple. The entire time I was flying them to safety, she was telling him he was an idiot for just standing there. But the second their feet hit the ground?” His hands gently press wanders under your shirt, finger dragging up the soft skin. “She was all over him,” he mumbles, nipping at your neck.

A soft shudder of electricity rushes down your spine.

“Reminded me of you,” he hums, finger tracing just under your breasts. “Cause she called him an idiot,” you tease softly. He snorts, and lets his hand gently grab one of your boobs. You gasp softly, eyes darting down to see where his hand is under your shirt.

Fuck.

“Cause she took charge,” he corrects, squeezing your breast just in the edge of too much. You bite your lip, eyes squeezing shut, “Thought you were tired.” He laugh softly, “Never tired enough for you.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“I love it when you ask,” he gently presses his hips into ass. You can feel his half-hard cock against you. “Yes,” he confirms, “Please, baby. It’s been so long.”

“It’s been two days.”

He whines and begins to slowly grind against your backside, “That’s two whole days. Pretty please? I’ll be so good for you.”

Well you had wanted a night of relaxation and sleep. But there was no way you could deny him when he spoke like that.

You grab his arm, slowly prying his hand off your chest. “No touching until I say,” you order. A soft, pathetic sound is punched out of him but he lets you move his hand off.

“On your back.”

He doesn’t hesitate, rolling onto his back. You take a deep breath a sit up, turning to look down at him. There’s a soft pink flush on his cheeks already and he’s smiling. That same smile Invincible gets. You’re reminded of earlier— when he was wearing that smile covered in blood.

You reach over, slowly tracing a single finger down his chest, “One day … you’re going to have to let me fuck you with your suit still on. Bloody or not.” His eyes widen and the color in his cheeks gets a deeper shade of red. “You want …” he pauses, thinking. Then, “Even if I’m covered in blood?” You smirk, “As long as it’s not yours? Abso-fucking-lutely.” He groans, eyes fluttering shut.

His cock twitches, “Fuck.”

Your smirk widens and you move to straddle him, hovering just enough above his cock to tease, “Do you like that idea?” He nods, immediate and enthusiastically, “Yes.” You chuckle softly, “Of course you do. You’re fucking perfect.” The reaction is immediate. He moans, hips arching into you. A soft laugh leaves your throat.

He’s absolutely adorable like this. You fall deeper in love every time he’s like this. The most powerful man in the world— throwing away his powers, forgetting his hero responsibilities. All of it. For you.

“Please, baby—“

“Shhh,” you coo softly, gently pressing his hips back onto the bed. “I’m not going to make you wait tonight,” you grab the bottom of his shirt, “Arms, baby.” Mark complies instantly, lifting his arms just far enough for the shirt to come off. You aimlessly toss the shirt to the side, eyes glued to the man below you. A soft sound of appreciation leaves your lips and you lean down, connecting your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

You can feel the tension drain from his body. The tightness of his muscles from all the fighting; the almost permanent furrow between his brows; the pain stitched into the very strands of his d.n.a. — all of it melts. The trust he has for you, the devotion, the admiration. He truly is the best man in the universe.

The rest of the Vultrimites can fuck off. The second Mark Grayson was born their whole ‘superior’ beliefs were squashed. They are not the perfect race. But they did create the perfect man. Who is willingly, amazingly, and oh so loudly in love with you.

Slowly, you lower your hips down, starting a soft, slow grind between your bodies. Mark moans. Loud and proud and beautiful. You’re throbbing down to your very core. Your insides are buzzing with want and lust and devotion.

Reluctantly, you pull away from the kiss. Just far enough to breathe, your lips still brushing as you breathe in each other’s air. “Have I told you lately how much I worship the very air you breathe,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his with every word. He whimpers under you, “Baby.”

“You do everything for me. For us. For this planet,” you whisper, trailing messy kisses down his throat, “I love getting you like this. Desperate and vulnerable. You’re not ‘invincible’ here, are you?” You latch on to a spot behind his ear and a quiet, shaky moan comes from under you. You start to grind a little faster against him. He groans softly, tilting his head to give you more room.

You don’t leave marks. Not because he can’t get injured but because it would take hours for it to work and then fade in a day or two. But the idea is nice.

“Baby,” Mark whines, “Baby— please. Please. Touch me.”

The word ‘no’ isn’t your vocabulary when it comes to Mark Grayson. You gently pat his hip, “Lift up, love.” He complies instantly, lifting his hips just enough for you to slide his pants and boxers down to his knees. He kicks them the rest of the way off.

His cock is gorgeous. It always is. Maybe it’s because he’s half Vultrimite or maybe it’s just his desperation every time you guys are like this. But he’s always leaking a fountain. And it’s your favorite thing to drink.

Without warning, you lean down, sucking the head into your mouth. He moans, bucking into your mouth. The taste of his precum explodes on your taste buds as you let him buck into your mouth. He’s never been one to have much self control but it’s kinda nice— that he gets so whiney and desperate just because your lips are around him.

This is probably the second best thing when the two of you have sex. Kissing is always the first but the weight of him in your mouth is relaxing. Easy.

“Baby,” he whines, fingers tangling in his hair. You told him not to touch but telling him would mean getting off. So, you’ll let him do this just this once. He doesn’t do anything, doesn’t try to move you to his liking, just simply keeps his fingers tangled in your hair.

You take him deeper into your mouth, letting your hands roam all over his body. Every brush over the sensitive skin makes him vibrate under you.

“F-Fuck, no— I’m gonna—“

His cock twitches in your mouth and you pull off, licking your lips. He whines, thighs twitching. “Princess,” he pleads. The asshat. He knows you’ll cave every damn time he calls you that. “I still need prep, Mark,” you sigh. You didn’t really want it but he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you.

His cock twitches against your thigh. “Please—“ You cut him off, gently grabbing his hand, “You wanna get me ready and open for you?” A chocked sound punched from his chest, “Yes.” You smile, “Take off my shorts, love.” He scrambles to do just that. He groans appreciatively at the sight of your wet pussy. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, grabbing the hem of your shirt. A pause, his expression growing shy, “Can I?”

You smile softly, “It doesn’t need to come off if your fingers are inside of me.” He pouts, “But I want to see you. All of you. Baby.” You chuckle softly, “I didn’t say no.” Mark instantly starts pulling at your shirt. He throws it in the same direction as your shorts. “Fuck. You— fuck.” He grabs your shoulders, manhandling you till your tits are hovering over his face.

“Mark—“

A startled, deep moan escapes your lips as he laps his lips around your nipple. Your fingers tangle tightly in his hair. He moans, eyes closed, tongue flicking across your nipple at an almost vibrating speed.

“Mark,” you moan. One of his hands wanders down your body, two fingers sliding between your slick folds. A shudder runs down your spine, hips instantly pressing down into his fingers. You squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sudden pleasure ripping through your body.

Without warning, he slips one of his fingers inside. Your body tenses, a silent moan as you arch into him. He settles for a second. Just long enough for you to catch your breath before he starts moving. A startled whine leaves your lips as he brushes over the sensitive spot.

“You’re doing so good,” you pant, burying your face in his sweaty hair, “You’re making me feel so good, my love.” He cranes his neck back, eyes fluttering like he’s having trouble keeping them open. “Please. Please. Say it again,” he pleads, slipping a second finger inside. Your thighs twitch, rutting into his fingers. “You’re making me feel so good,” you mumble, a shaky kiss landing on the top of his head, “You always make me feel good. I don’t need sex for you get me weak in the knees.”

Is it cheesy? Yes. Does he move faster and moan like you’re not sharing a wall with several other students? Also yes.

“Baby. Baby. I can’t—“ his cock twitches. Once. Twice. “I’m so close.”

You’re not even touching him anymore

You reach down and grab the base of his cock, gripping it tightly, striving off his orgasm. A pathetic mewl comes from your boyfriend. “No. No. No. Please. Please.”

“Shhhh,” you coo softly, “I want you to cum in me.”

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum softly, clenching around his fingers, swallowing back a moan. He whines underneath you, “One more. You need one more.” You shake your head. Mark frowns, worried instantly, “Baby, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t hurt you.” You smile softly, gently cupping his cheek, “Tonight is about you.” He nods instantly, eagerly but refuses to remove his fingers, “But if I hurt you—“

“I want it to hurt.” You just blurt it out, ripping it off like a band-aid. He stares up at you, eyes dark and glazed, face red and flushed. He’s so beautiful like this. He doesn’t protest, but he still looks unsure. “Listen,” you whisper, thumb gently wiping across his cheek, “I’m going to sit on your dick. I’m going to ride you until you can’t think. I know my limits, sweetheart. I’ll stop if I need to.” He swallows, sharp and fast.

A moment of hesitation. Then he nods, fingers slowly slipping out, “I want that.” You smile softly, the facades of your dominant persona cracking slightly, “You sure?” You want him powerless not uncomfortable. He nods, “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” You kiss him, soft and slow as you slowly lower yourself down. The tip of his dick has barely slid inside before he breaks away from the kiss, moaning, eyes squeezed shut.

The stretch is painful but perfect. Tethering just on the edge of too much. You take your time sinking down, letting the burn of the stretch and the feel of his cock fill you up. Mark’s a mess under you. His fingers digging into the sheets under him, squirming, breathing hard.

When you sink down on the last few inches, your thighs tremble. Mark moans. And you’re definitely getting a noise complaint tomorrow. He reaches up and wraps his arms around you, pulling you down so your chests are flush together. The sudden movement causes him to brush against your cervix and you bite down on his shoulder to muffle the scream you almost let out.

Once you catch you catch your breath and lean back, noticing the red outline of teeth marks. “Mark,” you whisper, breathless, leaning back as much as he’ll let you to look at him. His eyes are wet with unshed tears and the sight sends a jolt of arousal to your core. He stared at you like you’re everything to him, like the world could be ending right now and he’d choose you. In every dimension.

“I love you,” he chokes out, pulling you closer still, “I love you so much.” The reply is instant, “I love you too.” A soft whimper leaves his lips, “Please? Please move.” You smile, “Pressed against you like this?” He nods instantly, tightening his grip around you, “Want to- need to feel you. Need every single inch of you against me.” You nod and slowly start moving your hips, “Like this?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Fuck. Fuck. That’s it, baby,” he whines, kicking his feet out like it’s taking everything in him to not push in deeper.

It doesn’t matter how much you get him like this, the feel of him inside you, underneath you, surrounding you, it’s almost always overwhelming. To have him trust you, love you, and accept you like this? It’s everything. Before you start crying yourself, you occupy yourself with messy kisses on his neck, your hips moving faster.

Marks loud. Always has been. And it’s wonderful. He doesn’t know how to shut up even when under his girlfriend. He expresses everything he feels. If not with words then with sounds. Beautiful sounds.

Tonight is no exception.

The faster you move your hips the louder he gets. He fucking pathetic and it makes you hot.

“Y-Yes. Yeah. Baby— I can’t— I’m gonna— fuckkkk,” he whines, throwing his head back. You lean back, staring down at him. His body is trembling below you. “I-I’m sorry. Im so sorry. I just can’t hold back. You’re so tight. You feel so good, Princess. Please,” he cries out, a stray tear slipping down his face. You smile softly, leaning down to kiss the corner of his eye, “You can come inside me, sweetheart.”

Marks hold on you tightens and he starts pushing his hips to meet yours. The new pace has him brushing against your cervix and seeing stars. The knot in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter. “I’m cumming— I’m cummingggggg—“

You cup his hand in your face, searing your lips together with a kiss. His thrusts once, twice more before you can feel the warmth spilling inside of you. You moan into his mouth, clenching around him. So close to the edge but not quite there—

One of Marks hands finds its way to your clit, pushing down just enough and moving in circles. White explodes behind your eyes as you climax, squirting all of his dick and thighs. He moans into the kiss and you can feel tears falling.

You break away from the kiss a moment later, looking down at his tear stained face. “Thank you,” he whispers. You laugh softly, gently wiping the tears from his face, “You don’t need to thank me, Mark.” He nods, “I do. Thank you. For everything. For being mine. For letting me have you like this. For—“ You cut him off with a soft kiss before you spontaneously combust.

“Hey, I love you,” you mumble, lips brushing against his cheek. What else are you supposed to say? Expressing you never ending emotions for this man has always been a challenge. “I don’t have words,” you say instead, “that describe how I feel about you. Just know it’s endless and unconditional.” He smiles, “Those are describing words.” You punch his shoulder playfully, “Hate you.”

He smiles, cocky and arrogant like he wasn’t crying two minutes ago, “Pretty sure you just said you loved me.” “Well I changed my mind,” you mumble, a smile growing on your face. Mark gasps, dramatic as always, “How could you?” You both stare at each other for a few long seconds before bursting out in soft laughter.

“Alright,” you sigh, “I’m going to get us something to clean you up. Stay here, alright?” He hums, eyes falling shut, “I don’t think my legs work right now anyways.”

Says the man that can fly.

You laugh softly, slowly sitting up and pulling him out. You wince softly and Marks eyes are on you instantly, worried and guilty. “You said— I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt,” he asks, hands gently resting on your hips. “Nothing I didn’t ask for,” you smile softly, “Now let me go I can feel your cum running down my thighs.” His gaze snaps down and his eyes darken instantly, “Oh fuck. That is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” You giggle softly, “Wanna take a picture so it’ll last longer?” He scrambles to grab his phone. He takes a picture and groans, “Fuck. You-You’re perfect.” You gently poke his chest, “You’re perfect. You’re the artist I’m the muse. Now let me go before my juices dry all over you.”

His face flushes but he hesitates a moment before lettering you go. You steal a quick kiss before climb off of him. You get what you can out of you and wipe the sweat off with a washcloth. Grabbing a separate wash cloth, you wet it and walk back out to him. He stares down at you the entire time you clean him, a look of awe and pure devotion on his face.

“Can I say something crazy,” he asks. You nod, wiping down his thighs. “I know we’re young. Twenty. But … I think you’re it for me,” he mumbles. Your entire body goes rigid and you look up at him, “Mark.” Sensing the tension in the air, he stumbles, “I-I mean I-if only— you don’t— I don’t want you to…”

“Mark,” you cut in, “Sweetheart, you’re it for me too.” The tension in his body drains instantly and he beams. “Get up here,” he makes little grabby hands. How are you supposed to say no to that? He’s mostly clean anyways.

You toss the washcloth behind you and climb back into his arms. Where you belong. “I love you,” he mumbles, taking a deep breath, inhaling the smell of your hair, “Forever.”

“You live for thousands of years,” you mumble. His grip tightens around you, “Forever.” You smile softly, nuzzling into his neck. “In every dimension,” he adds.

“Forever,” you agree.

Forever with Mark Grayson sounds like a dream. Maybe you’ll live it. And if you’re not his forever? At least he’ll be yours.

Forever.

masterlist

[ashes-of-rozes]

It’s the equivalent of “Dad, she said something mean to me :(((((“

9-1-1 8x11 Holy Mother of God

[ashes-of-rozes]

This is cannon

*Bruce realizing that Batman for some reason has become the face of alpha males and people are posting homophobic memes with Batman on Twitter*

Bruce: Lois I need to kiss your husband on national television

Clark:*hearing Bruce and dropping what he's holding and looking at Bruce confused as hell*

Lois: *who knows about Batman becoming the alpha male icon for some reason because Kon and Tim have been laughing at the homophobic memes for weeks now* know what makes sense go for it.

Clark: what!

[ashes-of-rozes]

When It Happened to Me

Relationships: Jason Todd x FEM!Reader

Warning(s): torture, scars, medical inaccuracies

“…by! Baby!”

You’re jerked awake, panic and fear instantly filling your veins. Warm, gloved hands cup your face, “Hey, look at me?” Your eyes snap up, meeting a familiar red helmet. “Ja…son?” The word is cracked, throat sore and deprived of water for days. A soft, muffled sound and then his helmet is coming off and you can catch his eyes.

A beautiful blue. Yet darker with fear and worry when they look at you. Gloved hands gently touch your face and you wince. Your body aches. Everywhere. Breathing hurts. Blinking around dry eyes. He immediately removed his hand and you whine, missing his touch. Even if it was painful.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, reaching above you to quickly and efficiently remove your bindings, “I’m getting you out of here.” Less than a minute later, the last knot is undone. Arms weak, feet hanging above the ground— you fall. Jason catches you instantly. You can’t help the pained whine that leaves your throat but you lean in closer to him. Ignoring the pain.

Jason’s here.

You’re okay.

“It’s raining,” he whispers, voice soft. He’s always soft for you. The next thing you know his jacket is draped over you like a blanket it. The leather wet, but the fabric still holding his previous body heat. Your eyes fall heavy again.

He kisses your forehead. Soft. Barely felt. But no less caring than every other one. “Stole the Batmobile,” he mumbles, “You’ll be comfortable in the back. You can heal properly back at the cave.” A soft noise of protest is all you can manage.

You just want him to take you back home. Let your fiancé bathe you, feed you, and then sleep. Who cares about all your injuries? Jason’s all that matters. But you barely managed to say his name without crying out in pain. So no arguing.

Your eyes are heavy and closed. Your soul floating just out of your body as you let the sounds of distant sirens and the soft patter of rain drown you. It feels wonderful.

Your body is in constant pain but it’s dulled under the water from the sky. Each drop hurts. But at the same time, you feel nothing but warm Gotham-polluted water.

A soft click and then Jason’s gently laying you down across the warmed up black leather seats.

Seat warmers, you think distantly, letting yourself be maneuvered. Once you’re secure enough for your finances liking, Jason kisses your bare, injured ankle and gently closes the door. The warmth from the heater, Jason’s jacket and the leather seats lulled you to sleep.

⌑ ⌑ ⌑

When you open your eyes again, bright fluorescent lights are shinning above you.

A groan escaped your lip and you immediately close your eyes again.

“How are you feeling?” That’s Tim’s voice.

“Like I got tortured for a week,” you mumble, slowly sitting up, ignoring the pain. “Welcome to the club,” he mumbles. Slowly, head pointed at the ground, you flutter your eyes open. The light stings but it’s temporary compared to the rest of the pain.

You look around, noticing you’re in the cave’s med-bay. Jason’s passed out at the foot of the bed. Tim’s in the corner of the room, typing away on his laptop. “How long has he been like this,” you ask, voice still rough. Throat still dry. “He hasn’t slept since you were taken,” Tim says, “Passed out pretty much the moment Alfred said you’d be okay. Hasn’t moved in almost a day.”

Guilt slammed into you.

“And you,” you ask, “Why are you here?”

Tim finally stops typing on the laptop, looking up at you.

Sometimes you think all of Bruce’s sons are genetically related. They all get the exact same look when they don’t want to talk about their feelings.

“Bruce is taking up the rest of the cave—“

“Tim,” you interrupt. He stares at you with that same look for minutes. He looks guilty. Embarrassed, almost. Ashamed, definitely. “I should’ve found you sooner,” he says, closing the laptop and running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry.” “Why are you sorry,” you ask. “If I found you sooner maybe you wouldn’t be— Jason could’ve—“ He paused. “I have one job. To track down what goes missing. And yet …”

You smile. Sad. Painful. It hurts to lift your lips. “Tim, it’s not your fault. You look dead. Please tell me you got more sleep than Jason?” Tim blinks and looks away. “Go,” you scold softly, “Bed.”

“But—“

“Bed, Timothy.”

He sighs and reluctantly stands, heading towards the door.

“Tim?”

He pauses, looking over his shoulder and back at you. “Thank you. For finding me.” Tim returns the smile, soft and tired and walks out.

“He’s actually going to bed.”

You jump, eyes falling in the source of the voice. Jason’s eyes are still closed but there’s a soft, content smile on his lips. “I knew I wanted to marry you for a reason,” he mumbles. He sits up slowly, eyes falling on your bandages, your bruises. His hand finds yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“How ya feeling,” he asks. “I’ve definitely felt better,” you smile reassuringly, “Could go for a glass of water. Or gallon. Or tank. Which ever is easiest.” He laughs and stands, leaning over to kiss your forehead, “I’ll be right back.”

Jason’s lingers a moment longer before slowly exiting the room. Reluctant to let you out of his sight. Even now. Even safe.

He comes back a few moments later with a glass of water and a pitcher. He hands you the water which you take with almost greedy hands. He smiles, running his fingers through your hair as you chug down the cold liquid inside. “Easy, ma,” he whispers, “Alfred said your throat will be sore for a while…”

His hand falls to his side.

“Jay…”

He sighs, slumping back in the seat at the foot of your bed, “I’m sorry.” You frown, setting down the water. “I should’ve,” he swallows and you can see the tears in his eyes, “I should’ve been with you.” He was. The night you were taken, you and him planned to have dinner together but Dick needed help. “There’s no way you could’ve known what was going to happen,” you try to reassure.

“We live in Crime Alley! It’s right there in the name,” he shouts, voice shaking. “Two years, love. And nothing like this has happened—“

“I got comfortable. I let my guard down,” he stands up so fast the chair clatters to the floor, “And you paid the price for it!” He’s spiraling again. He groans, running his fingers through his hair, tears of anger and self-hatred streaming down his face, “This is all my fault. You’re not safe with me! Maybe we should postpone the wedding or—“

You rip out your I.V. and pull off the patches on your chest. The monitor flatlines. Jason’s gaze is on you immediately, panicked. There’s just enough adrenaline in your veins for your legs to not shake when you stand.

“No— lay back down,” he takes a step forward, reaching out for you. “Jason,” he gently take his outstretched hand, “I am marrying you.”

“Ma—“

“Do you love me,” you ask. Jason looks offended, “More than anything.” The tension in your muscles ease a little. “I want to marry you,” you say, “This doesn’t change a thing.” “It should,” he gently squeezes your hand, “You should hate me.”

“I don’t,” you insist, “This wasn’t your fault. Or Tim’s. Or anyone else who is blaming themselves. It was horrible but it was not your fault.” Jason blinks, tears slowing down. He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you, “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.” You return the hug, arms shaky and weak but determined to hold him.

“I love you, future Mrs. Todd,” he mumbles into your neck.

“I love you too.”

⌑ ⌑ ⌑

Epilogue:

Jason’s hands were on you the second you stood in front of him.

His thumb gently brushed across your wrist, where scar tissue circled all around. You smile. Jason loves the scars you gained. Worships them.

“The veil,” you whisper. Jason blinks and shakes his head, smiling. He lets go of your wrists and lifts the veil. He brushes his knuckle across the scar on your neck, smiling.

Tim clears his throat, “Jason. Hands to yourself.” Jason glares at his brother, “She’s my wife—“

“Not until I’m done. Hands to yourself,” Tim smirks, smug. Jason scoffs but complies.

Tim goes through the officiating process.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Jason cups your face with one hand, the other on the small of your back and bends you down, lips crashing against yours.

As your dress falls to the ground that night and Jason is on you instantly. He doesn’t stop till the sun comes up. And only then it’s a break. And then he’s on your again.

Praising you. Loving you. Worshipping you.

Yeah. This was the right choice.

masterlist

[ashes-of-rozes]

Batboys texting:

[ashes-of-rozes]

Baby!Damian growing up with his brothers instead:

aka: he’s still evil but with his brothers/father’s influence and not his moms



Dick: Who stole my damn keys? I’m not above murder!

Tim: *points*

Baby!Damian: *smiling and jiggling the keys*

Dick: oh … I suppose I can stay a little longer

Dick, gently picks up baby!Damian: You hear me and your dad get into a fight?

Baby!Damian: *nods*

Dick, frowning: that why you took my keys?

Baby!Damian: *nods*

Dick, smiling: clever demon baby

Baby!Damian: *giggles*

Jason: *coming home after a long night*

Toddler!Damian: *sitting in the dark on his couch*

Jason, startled: Jesus, kid! What are you doing here?

Toddler!Damian: reading

Jason: which one?

Toddler!Damian: Jane Austin

Jason, smiling: I raised you well, huh?

Toddler!Damian: *nods*

Jason, suspicious but incredibly happy: What’d B do now?

Toddler!Damian:

Jason: Damian.

Toddler!Damian: he locked me out of the library

Jason: you didn’t just … break in through a window?

Toddler!Damian: I can do that?

Jason: absolutely. Tell him I told you it was okay.

Tim: *walking into the cafe to hear Bruce and Damian fighting*

Preteen!Damian: it’s not fair, father!

Tim: *turns to leave*

Preteen!Damian: Drake, tell him it’s not fair!

Tim, sighs: It’s not fair

Bruce: You don’t even know what I’m being berated about!

Tim: don’t care, I’m on his side.

Preteen!Damian: this is why you’re my favorite

Tim:

Bruce:

Preteen!Damian:

Preteen!Damian: in a sarcastic way, of course

Tim, smiling: of course

Preteen!Damian: I still don’t like you

Tim: love you too, little demon