Your unwashed laundry | Just here for the fics and tea | I ship the gays | AmbiV | 🤡🤡🤡 | either Socially awkward or really Loid asf | sleep deprived | Hangryyy 24/7 | Filloww| Freeeaak
“oh my god— let me get through the fucking door first.”
“oh, so-you-hate-me-and-you-want-me-to-die,” you silence denki, and his spew of stupidity with a single hand that cups his face and squishes his cheeks together.
he can be cute when he’s being a whiny bitch. the scrunch on his face turns into a pout, so you lay a teeny tiny peck on his lips before pushing him backwards so you can come through the doorway.
he had bitched and moaned all morning, it’s his one day off in the last, like, month, and you’re “leaving me already.”
oh, boo-hoo.
you knew he was gonna try and pull some sneaky shit, some stupid shit, so you took your sweet time coming home from work.
but your boy was antsy.
practically itching himself like an addict, rocking himself back and forth, all fucking day, waiting for you to get home.
you take a peak into the kitchen, at least he cleaned, no dishes in the sink, floor mopped, some leftovers on the stove for you, what a cutie.
but you don’t even get that far.
you don't even get to eat.
why should you, you didn’t let him eat this morning.
arguably, it's his fault for not waking up early enough to treat you before you left. you’re not the late type. well you can be, but you like sleeping so much your morning routine has been carefully crafted so that you have the bare minimum amount of time needed to get ready when you get up. and if he thought his little, annoying, blonde ass self, was going to disrupt that, he should think again.
so you left him like that, hard, pouting, itchy for five more minutes of your touch.
tough, fucking, luck.
you can’t indulge him, you give him an inch and he’ll take a fucking mile. you let him have one ‘last little smooch before you leave’ and then your panties are off before you even realise.
he’s always been like that. the worst combination of greed, always greedy, always hungry, and being so, what’s the word…charming, that he’s able to talk you into whatever he wants 99% of the time.
so you put your foot down, for once, and he’s so used to being spoiled.
annoying brat.
blowing up your phone the whole day, he missed you, missed you so bad he just had to send you twenty different pictures of his leaky dick.
flushed, pink, angry at you for leaving it in this state, and he always says his hands aren’t as nice, not as soft, they don’t know him as well as yours do.
“missed you so fucking much,” he murmurs into your ear, hands skirting round to feel up your chest. you’re still in your work clothes, sweaty from the day and from the journey home.
missed you? you can tell.
his hard, aching, cock slots itself into the crease of your ass, as he rocks back and forth, so fucking greedy. you haven’t even taken your shoes off yet, you’re still holding your bag, he can’t be serious.
you spin round and grab his face, again, and sneer, “i saw you this morning, stop fucking around.”
but that doesn’t do much to deter him, it makes it worse if anything. eyes misting over at the tone of your voice, the bite, the exasperation, and the way your soft fingers grip him, with force, with control.
he’s so fucking hard.
and you, his poor, exhausted, darling. so angry. so fed up.
he knows how to make you feel better.
lays you out flat on the couch, peppers your skin with apologies, with thanks. thanks for letting him touch you, thanks for being his, thanks for how, fucking, good you smell.
he inhales at the junction of your neck when he kisses you there, he thinks you can’t tell. the scent of your skin, the honeyed warmth of whatever body lotion you use, the traces of perfume, and of you.
you, you, you.
your sweat, your skin, it’s some crazy pheromone bullshit the way it makes his cock ache. god, he wants to smell you everywhere, wants to taste you everywhere, wants to lap up every inch of your skin, of your flesh, wants to lick it all up and drown in it.
pulling down your bottoms with haste, denki's fingers slide the fabric all the way down so it pools at your ankles, and stuffs his face into your panty-clad crotch so he can take a deep inhale.
fuuuuck.
shit, shit, he couldn’t put it into words, the way your scent makes his brain melt, slip out of his ears, flooding his senses with you and only you. he’s exactly where he wants to be, with you resting on your elbows and glaring down at him like he’s some sort of nuisance, like a pest, he has to restrain himself from making a mess all over the couch, again. instead focusing on making a mess out of you.
he mouths at your clothed pussy, slobbering all over the fabric, teasing your clit with his tongue, the dulled pressure making your toes curl as your legs come to wrap around his shoulders, and one hand fists his hair to push him deeper, closer.
you tsk at him like he’s a misbehaving dog, “if you’re gonna do it,” another shove of his head, “do it properly.”
you think he’s nodding, or maybe that just the movement of his tongue, lapping at the fabric, soaking your slit so your pussy clings to it, like he’s trying his best to suck out your juices from the damp cotton.
“nasty bastard,” the words are harsh, but the tone is breathless, a soft sigh, as you card your fingers through his soft blonde locks, twisting the hair around the digits, nails scratching at his scalp, “can’t even lemme have dinner first, huh?” punctuated by a yank of his head so he can face you.
his dazed amber eyes meet yours as he giggles, “m’sorry babe, m’gonna make it up to you, yeah?" as he kisses the crease of your thighs, over the fabric, below the fabric, "y’gonna let me? lemme make you feel good,” he murmurs into the soft creamy flesh of your inner thighs, leaving bruises in his wake.
“c’monnn,” he’s so hot when he’s trying to convince you to let him give you pleasure, “c’mon mama, it’ll be so good,” he kisses at your stomach, staring up at you, fake innocent puppy dog eyes that make you pulse, “just lemme have this first, then i’ll fix you a plate.”
“ain’t shit sweet but the pussy he eating,”
hanta s. ↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺
it’s been a long day.
same routine, same business as usual but, for some reason, it hits him so much harder today.
he feels it every time he moves. in his shoulders first, that dull pull from overusing his tape all day, elbows stiff from swinging between buildings for hours straight, thighs sore from landing wrong one too many times. there’s a nasty knot in his lower back that’s been there since some concrete support beam nearly pancaked him during a rescue op last winter, and he's been skipping his physio.
that’s the feeling. the deep, marrow-level ache that settles into your bones after years of throwing your body around a city that never fucking sleeps.
his day started before sunrise, and he had to creep out of bed at four am. because his agency got called in for traffic management after some villain tore through the motorway barriers during a police chase. then paperwork, then patrol, then a proper emergency downtown.
he had to keep his head on straight for that, collapsed scaffolding, trapped civilians, tape anchored around snapped steel beams while emergency crews yelled directions over each other.
but now he's done, now he can rest for the day, now he can go home and have a sweet treat.
your thighs bracketing his head, his mouth moves like he’s starving. he’s been thinking about this all day. about you. about your juicy pussy. he tallied every hour at work, counted down every single minute until he could come home and eat.
“fuuuck, lemme get in there.”
he’s worked all day for this, tirelessly, dutifully, protecting the city, protecting civilians, and this is his reward. this is what he deserves.
“don’t even think about it sweetheart,” when you flinch, when you try to squirm out of his grip, how could you even think about leaving, not when needs you this badly. and god does he need you. needs your sloppy cunt all over his face. needs to rub his nose against your throbbing clit, needs you dripping down his chin, he wants to drown in it.
hanta’s on his knees.
as soon as he walked through the door he collapsed here, face first into your sweet pussy. mouth salivating, his body rutting against the bottom of the couch, he really has been thinking about this all day, about the meaty flesh of your thighs wrapping around his head and suffocating him. and now that he’s here, finally, it feels like he’s in a dream.
a dazed, drunken state, his shaggy black hair shaking with every movement of his mouth, of his tongue bullying its way in between your puffy pussy lips. and then his lips latch onto your clit, one harsh suck, and you’re spilling more and more of your delicious pussy juice into his greedy mouth.
it’s so fucking sweet, his fingers bruise the side of your thighs, he can barely hear you, hear how you whimper, hear how you moan for him, with how your thighs are acting as earmuffs. it’s a shame really, and he considers, briefly, on changing positions, just so he can hear the way your voice cracks when you call out his name. but he prefers this. prefers how easy it is to drink up each wave of cream that gushes out of you. and he likes how he can feel your legs shake like this, how you foot kicks at his back on a particularly malicious flick of his tongue. he likes how you anchor yourself onto him, how much you need him, how you've been craving this, the feeling of his mouth slurping up every last drop, just as much as he has.
if he passed out, right here, like this, and you got up, or moved, he would gain conscious back just to tell you to leave him there. he wants you to keep him here always, he's nothing but an instrument for your pleasure, he's nothing except what you need, a mouth, a tongue, some fingers. the desire to make you feel good is all consuming.
and he's so messy with it, so hungry and loud, god it's embarrassing, the wet smacks of his lips echoing throughout the room and intermingling with the shattered moans he’s pulling out of you. when you grip his hair, like a handle for a rollercoaster ride you can't stop, when you pull on it, he let's out a deep appreciating rumble that vibrates its way up your spine. his nose bumping against your clit, soaking his face in your essence, your scent infiltrating his brainwaves, making him stutter in his movements, making him drool.
the scratch of the stubble scattered across the surface of his chin rubs your pussy raw in the most delicious way. sends tingles all the way down to your toes, which in turn causes you to dig your heels into hanta’s sturdy back, which causes the cycle to repeat itself.
you could stay here forever, both of you blissed out after a long day. your back pressed into the couch by the firmness of his grip, the guardian of your pleasure, his big palms allow you to crumble into him and, well,
➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.
➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”
➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”
➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”
➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”
➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.
“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.
“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”
➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”
➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”
However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!
➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.
If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)
➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“
“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.
➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.
➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”
➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.
“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”
➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.
“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”
synopsis . Your boyfriend reaching the avatar state when he’s close. content . afab!reader, improper use of air bending, established relationship, dirty talk, missionary, pet names, he (nervously) talks you through it, praise, implied/slight breeding kink, etc.
author's note: i’d lick the sweat off his bald head if he let me.
You should’ve known something was up when the bedroom’s lanterns began to flicker.
But with the way Aang's hips snapped down against yours in such a relentlessly missionary rhythm—plump cock smothered deep within the juicily squelching walls of your pussy—it was hard to focus on anything else outside of the way he stretched you open.
HIs breaths came in searing pants against your neck, one gripping hand braced beside your head whilst his free one occupied itself with one of your thighs, tugging your leg impossibly higher around his waist just so that he could fuck you at that pinpointingly perfect angle.
"Ohhh, that's ittt, sweet girl. T-Taking me so well," Aang murmured as his eyes locked onto yours with shimmers of honest adoration visible all over them. "Keep squeezing me like that, mmgh. F-Feels good. So good." He thrusted even harder then, his breath flying out of him along with it as the wet slap of skin on skin emulated throughout the room.
His muscles tensed and his balls felt sorely heavy with each time they came plapping down against your sweat-slicked skin. The lanterns began to flicker again, brighter this time around as they cast shadows around the bedroom.
Then he leaned all the way down to smush his soft lips into yours, capturing your breath with in a messy kiss. His tongue came out to slide against yours as his firm body rocked into yours, the bed struggling to remain in place with his every move.
When his mouth left yours, he was dazed. This should've been the second signal for you. Especially as he let out a loud groan and went whispering, "Gonna breed this pretty cunt-," Instantly catching himself after and letting those soft grey eyes of his go all the more doe-like on you, "Shit... can I say that? I-Is that okay? Do you like it when I talk to you like tht?"
His hips picked up in pace, jaw going stiff as the balmy head of his cock smudged all sloppily against your cervix. Aang glanced down to see how he was disappearing into you, gasping at the obscene sight below him and then returning his eyes to yours.
"Tell me, baby. Please, talk to me. Tell me how you want me-, how you need me. I just wanna-, ohfuck—" Mid-sentence, his steady thrusts seem to derail and your cunt soaks around him to leave a sheeny layer of aroused slick all over his dick.
You're sucking him in deeper than he expected you to, and it catches him absolutely off guard. Which you notice rather quickly, batting your fucked-out eyes up at him, "Aang? Are you okay?"
"Yeah-, yes.. You just keep—" He hunches over against you—body going taut and lean muscles constricting against one another. "You keep squeezing me like that."
Begining to like seeing him struggle, "Squeezing like what?" you asked in sync with your walls clenching around the deft base of his cock.
Air puffs right out of him as if he'd been choked and his body shudders with something powerful coursing through him. You only catch it for a split second the first time it happens—a brief flash over both his markings and his eyes as his next array of groaning stammers out of him.
Following this is the flash of something wild in his eyes as they broaden, pupils dialating a fraction. Aang's head tips to the side and the plump crown of his cock slavers itself alllll around your insides, the puffy lips of your cunt left to quiver around him.
"You're so pretty-," Your loving boyfriend chuffs out, unknowingly thrusting into you harder via a burst of controlled air slapping against his backside. "H-Have I told you that? Hm?" He's asking as if he wasn't literally air bending himself into fucking you harder.
Your head just barely manages a nod, tears coating your lash line, "Nngh-, yes, Aang."
"Say it back to me then," Aang encourages. In between his breathy words, a brush of air is felt slithering against your cunt. It was almost as if his ability to seamlessly multitask was showcasing the best of his abilities via stimulating you everywhere. "Tell me how pretty my girl is, yeah?"
The sensation brings a stutter to your speech, "A-Aang, I can’t," you cry out, nails lightly scraping at his back.
He smiles halfway before his thrusting grows erratic and his jaw slacks some, "Oh. You're gushing-, shit."
You feel the way his tip pulsates inside you, his hips struggling to pull himself back for a moment long enough to give his cock a second to breathe—not that he much cared to do so anyway.
"So wet. Wanna see you cum-, wanna feel it." Aang husks, "Can you do that? Cum for me?"
"Mhmm," You nod weakly at first but within the next few seconds, as something begins to rumble distantly, you start to second guess your agreement. Mouth falling agape, “Wait, s’too much-,” you try to warn him.
He’s lost though—lost in the feel of your greedy insides begging his dick to spill enough seed into you to repopulate a nation or two at least. Aang’s unconscious manipulation of air only gets worse too, he goes from using his bending to fuck himself deeper to using it to sprawl your puffy pussy lips ‘n legs apart even wider.
You’re a stretched out mess in mere seconds, gasping his name and crying out in pleasure as your back begins arch. Then he’s chuckling all of a sudden and you swear for a moment he’s not even the same man you knew him to be.
Aang’s head cocks back some and his eyes roll back, “You can take it,” he grunts like he knows his words to be true and no argument could convince him otherwise. “You always do. Mmgh-,” He bites his lip for a second before looking down at you once more. “Can’t you feel that? The air helpin’ me fill you up? It’s-, hah.. It’s a little something I’ve been practicing.”
You pout at first, “Aang, I don’t know if-, mmgnh! Y-Your markings!”
The room illuminates with colors of spiritual blue before he notices what you’re talking about.
“What about them?” Aang asks cluelessly, his voice having changed due to the height of pleasure and energy surging through him.
Sweat drips down his body but it doesn’t even manage to touch you or the bed because he’s bending those droplets just as he was the air—completely losing himself in the feel of you and bending all sorts of shit because of it.
“They’re glowing,” You gasp.
Then his cock buries itself all the way in, every stiff inch clamped by your sappy insides, and his body comes to a sharp stop.
You knew there were… concerns when it came to having sex with your boyfriend who just so happens to be the avatar. But, no one told you he’d enter the avatar state just from cumming too hard!!
It’s while creamy gushes of cum are flooding into your poor cunt that his body is shuddering and he’s literally entering a new state of pleasure. He could hardly manage a word out or even move, the state had taken him over entirely.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little worried for him because of it, but honestly you were a tad bit distracted by how fucking hot it was.
You shouldn’t let this go to your head, really.
But who else can say their pussy sent their boyfriend into the avatar state?
That’s something to brag about!
(not proofread) banner from “Welcome to The Muscle Salon!” || tags:
got fried as fuck and this shit came to me like a prophecy. a dream. i know i have my to-do list, but it’s hard for me to write stuff i’m no longer in the exact headspace for. like, i need to wait until i can get into it enough to feel it the way i did when i first thought of it. anyways, this is set in a universe that’s pretty canon-compliant: mark and amber broke up, but he hasn’t dropped out of college (yet) or ended up with eve. you also have no clue he’s invincible, just that he’s had a glow up and your cute, dorky friend from high school is now fine as shit. i also listened to “party favors” by leon thomas and big sean the entire time i worked on this.
lastly, i'd like to give a humongous shoutout to @omniphilic for beta-reading this monster for me! much love, sunshine, and godspeed, my children. enjoy! | wc: 7.9k words.
cw: nsfw mdni (18+), afab!reader, a lot of porn with a lot of plot, light angst, confessions, banter, friends-to-lovers, mentions of amber (i love you girl but it’s so easy to use you as a plot device </3), oral sex (f!recieving), explicit sex (p in v), missionary, squirting, dirty talk, praise, soft!dom mark, consider this my apology for the hurt/very little comfort v!card mark x reader fic <3
thinking about you joking around with mark grayson and calling him… small. you know where.
it sounds like such a silly scenario, but walk w/ me: you and mark have an… odd friendship. looking back on it, you two were an unlikelier pair than winning the lottery. you’re from completely different worlds– you were more on the straight and narrow: the academic side of things. all you did was bust your ass, and you had plenty to show for it– friends, awards, this air of recognition that followed you from classroom to classroom.
and mark? well, he fell more into the category of incredibly average. average grades, average social life, even an average reputation amongst the student body– the kind that makes you easy to remember and always gets you labeled as a “pretty cool guy,” but keeps you out of any real trouble. maybe that’s part of his charm– the fact that everything about him is initially so unassuming, so run of the mill that you don’t even think twice. not until you start to get to know him.
there’s plenty that sticks out once you get to know him.
then, somehow, at the start of your senior year, you two ended up partnered together for a project in the same upper-level english class. y’know, the college freshman one everyone takes because it’s a cheap credit, regardless of if they’re going to harvard to study law, or to the local community college to save a bit of money. neither of you had many expectations, but you and mark became fast friends. mark’s awkward charm grew on you, and he already had a decent opinion of you from seeing you around, but finally being in a situation where he could talk to you and not feel like a nuisance only made him think of you more highly than before. you were cool as shit; he has no idea how you two hadn’t spoken sooner.
but it’s no surprise that you two absolutely nailed the project. with your smarts and mark’s willingness to learn, the grade on it ended up being so good that it made you jump into mark’s arms out of pure excitement. mark caught you effortlessly, spinning you around and giggling alongside you without a second thought. the intimacy of such a reaction didn’t dawn on you two until long after he set you down, you grinning giddily in his face, while he could do nothing but grin back.
that’s how you ended up here– lying in mark’s bed, long after graduation, and visiting home from campus on a long weekend. you’re wearing one of his t-shirts and reading one of his copies of seance dog as he works on a paper. when you found out you two would be attending the same university, you were more than stoked. mark was stoked too, but he was so sure you could’ve gotten into one of chicago’s finest, or, better yet, move away from illinois entirely, rather than attend upstate university. he gave you a hesitant look when you said you were more than content with your choice, saying that a degree is a degree no matter where you went and that as long as you could be with mark, it would be worth it. deep down, though, mark swore something bloomed in his chest that day. he doesn’t really know what that feeling was– is, to be more accurate, because he still feels it sometimes– but that’s the least of his worries.
his main worry is getting this paper in by 11:59 pm tonight.
and just like that, the rhythmic clacking of mark’s fingers against the keyboard fills the silence and leaves you to bask in this comforting sensation of warmth. you’re so relaxed that you can’t bring yourself to move. not that you would have wanted to, anyway.
it’s peaceful. so, of course, you have to ruin it.
“you ever want to fuck a cartoon character?” you suddenly say, the copy of seance dog in your hand and your foot crossed over your knee. you hear the way mark’s typing pauses for a moment, and imagining his reaction forces you to bite back a snicker. a pregnant silence fills the room before the typing begins again, just as rhythmic and hypnotic as before.
“i know you’re not saying that about seance dog,” mark finally quips back, his voice dripping with an absurd amount of mirth. you can hear his smile in his voice– you always can, because mark rarely doesn’t smile. it’s one of your favorite things about him.
you can’t help but take the bait.
“you think i could be?” you ask, tone scandalized and brows raised. neither of you move to face each other just yet– you don’t need to. you can tell exactly what face mark’s making from the sound of his voice, and mark can do the same for you. it’s how he knows that you’ve stopped biting back that smug smile of yours– the one that creeps across your face when you’re clearly up to something, but he doesn’t know what. you’re a troublemaker; it’s one of his favorite things about you.
“yeah,” he replies without missing a beat, “i clearly know nothing about you. i was once dumb enough to think you were intimidating.”
“i’m still intimidating!”
“yeah, maybe on occasion,” mark teases, his typing ceasing completely so that he can spin around in his chair. he leans against it with his head tossed back and his arms on the armrests, eying you gleefully as you put the comic face down on the bed. “most of the time i forget because you’re too busy saying shit that’s uncomfortably close to ‘i wanna fuck seance dog.’”
“eat shit and die, mark.”
“i don’t wanna.”
“then shut the fuck up and answer the question!”
“fine, fine!” mark laughs and lifts his hands up lazily off the chair in mock-surrender. “‘course i’ve wanted to fuck a cartoon character. who hasn’t? i’m not a nun.”
something flashes in your eyes, and you shift to lean forward towards where mark’s sitting, propping up on your elbows on the bed. you grin mischievously; it’s clear you’re up to nothing remotely good.
“who?” you ask.
mark replies immediately. “koriand’r.”
“wha– from the titans?”
“no, from the avengers. yes, from the titans. who else would i be talking about?”
“alright, down, boy,” you say amusedly, making mark roll his eyes. “i was just checking. but you obviously can’t handle that.”
mark raises an eyebrow. “says who?”
“uhh, says me?"
the two of you are still for a moment, and you start to fear you said something wrong until you see mark’s eyes darken in that telltale way they do when he starts to feel challenged. then, as if that wasn’t enough to give you goosebumps, he does that stupid, mindless thing he does with his tongue, where he runs it along the inside of his cheek. your breath stills in your chest when mark pushes up off the back of his chair and leans forward towards where you lie on the bed, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped between his thighs.
it’s hard to keep your gaze from dropping to the veins in his hands.
“oh yeah?” mark asks incredulously, tilting his head. you were joking about being the intimidating one earlier, but the real intimidator is mark. when he gets serious, you swear you can feel something in the air shift. maybe that’s why it feels like the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up right now.
“why not?”
the question, in its simple nature, catches you off guard, and in a brief moment of confusion, you tilt your head. “why not what?”
“why couldn’t i handle her?”
you stare at mark as if he’s joking, but instead of him laughing and waving you off, mark stares back at you expectantly, brow arched and lips quirked up at the corners. it’s like he wants to smile, but he can’t. won’t.
this dickhead must have a death wish.
“what do you mean ‘why couldn’t you handle her?’” you say casually– like what you’re saying is most obvious thing in the world. “it’s koriand’r, mark. she’d chew you up and spit you out before you even had time to undo your belt.”
you swipe up your copy of seance dog and busy yourself with trying to find where on the page you last left off. honestly, it doesn’t matter where you start reading. you’re willing to do anything to help get your mind off the weight of mark’s eyes boring into you.
“besides,” you huff, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “koriand’r has standards, and you probably have a small dick, anyway.”
the second those words leave your mouth, the room falls deathly silent, and you swear it’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room. you fall still where you’re at, hoping that somehow, someway, you not moving will make mark want to kill you less. you really don’t know what possessed you to say that– it was a poor attempt at deflection, considering the growing amount of tension you began feeling in that room– but you don’t mean it. didn’t mean it. not one bit.
you’re doing mental gymnastics to figure out how you can take it back without sounding like a total loser before mark starts laughing, and the joyous and boisterous sound gives you pause.
he couldn’t have found that funny… could he?
okay, yeah, after a little bit of consideration, he very well could have. this is mark grayson, you’re talking about– not one of the insecure guys you were used to dealing with, who were more likely to blow a blood vessel than a load at the idea of being perceived as “unmanly.” mark’s the type of guy to wear one of your crop tops because he knows you’ll whine about him stretching them out, or wear a maid dress as a punishment for losing a bet, masking his embarrassment with quips about how good his legs look. you also know mark enough to know he’s not a virgin, nor is he a prude, but not well enough to know intimate details about his sex life. sure, jokes are fine, but a play-by-play on how he screwed his ex feels… invasive. beyond the scope of your shared comfort. it was just something you never thought of asking.
well, more like something you could never bring yourself to ask.
you set the comic back down on the bed just in time to watch mark wipe some tears from his eyes, twisting around to face his laptop with a smile on his face. he resumes typing like nothing happened, like you didn’t just obliterate his manhood and leave it in pieces for him to pick up off the floor. it’s hard not to gawk at him in disbelief, blinking rapidly for a few moments before speaking.
“that– didn’t upset you?” you say tentatively, voice a lot meeker than initially intended. mark huffs out a laugh and spins around, hands back to resting on the armrests.
“why would it have?” he says bemusedly, still smiling from before. “we joke like that all the time. honestly, i’m surprised you hadn’t said something like that sooner.”
you can only stare at him blankly, brows knitting in confusion as mark continues to regard you patiently. then, you sit up, pushing up off your elbows to swing around and upright, one leg dangling off the bed while the other stays bent in front of you.
“why didn’t you get mad?”
mark pauses, eyes narrowing as he tilts his head. “...is this a trick question? why would i? you were joking around.”
“most guys would’ve gotten mad about me saying something like that.”
“yeah, well, most guys aren’t exactly confident about what they’re packing downstairs.”
“and you are?”
mark’s lips part for a second, but no words come out. he quickly shuts his mouth and stares at you, but you stare back, ignoring the way your cheeks start to burn with red-hot embarrassment.
“well, yeah,” mark finally says, eyes flickering nervously to the side. he looks everywhere– the alarm clock on the dresser, his posters on the wall, everywhere but where you are, sitting prettily on his bed– but his eyes have no choice but to finally lock back onto yours, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “‘course i’m confident about it.”
“...‘cause it’s not small.”
he pauses. “yeah. ‘cause it’s not small.”
your brain short-circuits right then and there.
you aren’t sure why you’re so surprised by this. it wouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to arrive to this conclusion. you were around when mark started dating his ex-girlfriend, amber– around long enough to have seen the exact point in their relationship where they shed the last of their inhibitions and began interacting with each other much more comfortably. you were also around long enough to watch mark come into himself– to lose that dweebish, unsure aura around him and become more confident. muscled. tall. even if he was still pretty dorky most of the time.
perhaps that’s when the thoughts started: when you started to think of mark less as a boy, and more as a man. when you began wondering things about him that you desperately wanted to know, but were much too scared to ask.
at least you have an answer to one of them now.
“hey,” mark says suddenly, voice sharp enough to cut through all your overthinking and analyses. mark’s closer to you now– right next to you, actually, the scent of his cologne filling your nose– and he has your hand in his, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back. “you okay? should i not have said that–?”
you frantically shake your head. “no–! i mean, yes– god, fuck, no, mark, it’s okay.” you take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut. “i’m the one who asked. you just answered.”
you take in a shaky breath and let your eyes flutter open to find mark watching you adeptly, his eyes trained on your face. the expression he’s wearing is one of worry, those dark brows of his pinched in the middle to form a wrinkle you so desperately want to smooth out with your thumb. his plush, pink lips are parted, and in an attempt not to stare at them, your eyes fall to the floor, but not before momentarily catching on how his biceps strain against his sleeves.
for fuck’s sake, this is not the time to be focusing on how attractive you find your best friend.
“i wanted to know,” you finally say, voice soft and a little frayed around the edges. your eyes flutter shut again– something to give you a bit of extra courage to say what you need to say, and not cave under the pressure of your nerves. “i wanted the answer to that question. it sounds weird as fuck, and i totally understand if you want me to leave and never show my face around here again, but i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want to know.”
you open your eyes again to find mark still staring at you, eyes jumping all over your face, while sporting an unreadable expression. you find yourself swallowing hard as you steel yourself for what you want to say next, adjusting to sit and face mark completely.
“i wanna know a lot of things about you, actually. and none of them are all that appropriate for two people who are supposed to be ‘best friends.’”
it’s mark’s turn to short-circuit.
“w–what?” mark stutters out, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression as his eyebrows shoot up in suprise. his mouth falls agape, opening and closing fruitlessly as he tries to figure out what to say. “i– jesus christ, i don’t think you understand what you’re saying–”
“i know exactly what i’m saying.” your interjection is quick and firm, your expression void of your previous nervousness and now completely serious. “and you know it. don’t insult me like that again.”
mark’s protests die in his throat.
“i want to know you,” you start. “honestly. intimately. fuck, to be honest, i want to see you– naked, in my bed– but i didn’t wanna make things weird, and then you had that whole thing with amber, and then i thought you were gonna date eve, so i kinda just kept it to myself, but–”
“you can know me.”
you freeze. “what–?”
“you can know me,” mark says again, his hand squeezing the one that he has wrapped in his. “you can know me. and see me. and i’ll answer every other question you’ve had about me, ‘cause i wanna know you too.”
you can’t help but stare at mark , absolutely and completely dumbfounded. if he notices, he doesn’t judge. doesn’t acknowledge it at all, actually. he just continues to steamroll ahead.
“god, fuck, i really wanna know you like that, too,” he sighs. “always have– like, all the way back in high school. i’d see you in the halls with your friends and think, ‘man, they’re hot,’ then move on with my life because i thought there was no way i’d ever have a chance with you. then, we got partnered up for that project, and i learned that you were so much cooler and more approachable than i had ever imagined, and i wanted to make a move on you so bad, but i still thought there was no way you could ever like me. william can testify to this– i was talking his ear off about you 24/7. still do. he is seriously getting sick of it.”
the way mark talks is fast– so much so that all his words bleed together, voice full of excitement and sincerity. it make your eyes sting. after he finishes, his quick way of talking tapers off into a hefty bout of silence, his beautiful brown eyes flickering down to your joint hands.
“and then came amber.”
the quiet that follows drapes over the two of you like a blanket, heavy with the weight of everything you two are thinking, but ultimately remains unsaid. the fact of the matter is that it doesn’t need to be said. you and mark just… know– understand– that amber was the first person, aside from you, to treat mark as less of an expendable, and more like somebody worth knowing. she took the opportunities you were too afraid to– penciled her name in where yours was meant to be and slipped right on into that “partner” position, wearing it as if it was custom-fitted. it may as well have been, because it sure looked good on her.
he looked good on her. that’s why you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad.
“i never would’ve gone out with her if i knew you wanted me even half as much as i wanted you,” mark says quietly, reaching up to rub a tear from your cheek that you didn’t even know you shed. “but i didn’t. and we dated, and i slept with her, and i loved her, but i feel all of that for you too, y’know.” he cradles your face delicately as he climbs up onto his knees, his movements slow, as if moving too quickly would scare you off. moving too quickly would remind you that this is real; remind you that you probably shouldn’t be doing this, causing you to hop off the bed and run down the hall, flying down the stairs, past debbie, and out the front door.
but you don’t have to worry. never have, actually, because the way mark treats you is careful. cautious. he’s kneeling on the bed and easing you onto your back with such rapt attention that it makes your cheeks warm, head turning to the side to shield it from him before he turns your head right back to where it was.
“i want you to ask your questions,” mark says slowly, large hands pushing your knees apart to make room for him between your legs. you can’t help but stare at him helplessly, any and all words dying in your throat, but mark moves with a confidence that makes it clear you don’t need to speak. not when he’s hovering over you like this.
“i want to answer your questions, and i want you to do the same for mine. ‘cause i’ve thought about you. a lot. and not all of it was decent. actually, most of it probably wasn’t.”
mark lets himself laugh softly at the admission, but you can only look up at him in awe, the muscles of your brows twitching from the urge to knit in confusion. mark’s eyes catch this, and he reaches down to smooth his thumb over the spot right between your eyebrows– the same way you wanted to do for him earlier.
“so tell me that this is okay.”
mark trails his fingers across your skin, skimming over your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, and all the way down your arm until reaching your hand. he tangles your fingers together and brings your wrist to his lips, a soft kiss being pressed to your pulse, which makes your heart stutter in your chest. mark doesn’t tease you for how vulnerably you stare at him, or for how red his actions make your face. he only looks down at you with a soft smile, peppering kisses to your palm.
“holy shit, mark, this is more than okay.”
mark’s grin is blinding when you surge forward to kiss him.
the thing that surprises you most about it isn’t how good of a kisser mark is, or how nice it feels for his big hands to come up and cradle your jaw. it’s how easy all of this is– how uncomplicated it is to be making out with mark, how your lips slot together as if it’s always meant to be this way, how raw his groan is when you tangle your fingers into his hair and tug. he has you pressed against the bed in seconds, one hand slowly slipping beneath your t-shirt as the other squeezes at your outer thigh. you feel dizzy when your lips part and he ducks his head down into your neck, sucking bruises into the skin with a fervor that makes you squirm.
“i– fuck, mark, not where people can see–!”
“does it matter if it’s visible? ‘s not like you’re fucking anyone else right now besides me.”
you hit mark hard against his back, but it only makes him chuckle, sitting up to look at you with messy hair and blown pupils. “what? you haven’t slept with anybody in a while, and you’re about to sleep with me. i didn’t say anything wrong.”
“how do you even know that, asshole?”
mark grins, sitting back on his haunches as he hooks the hem of your shirt on his index finger. he tugs it up enough to reveal your stomach. “‘cause you’re lying here in my bed, wearing my shirt, with me sitting between your legs. if i was the person you’ve been fucking, i’d definitely feel some type of way about that.”
you scoff, moving one of your legs to try and kick at mark’s chest. like the little shit he is, he catches it easily and presses a kiss to your ankle, setting it on one of his shoulders. “that doesn’t mean anything. i could have casual sex if i wanted to.”
“yeah,” mark agrees, both hands coming to smooth his shirt up the expanse of your body, “you could. if you wanted to. but you don’t, ‘cause you’re not like that.”
“bullshit.”
“is not. here, open your mouth for me.”
“wh–?”
“shut up and open it for a second, would you?”
you shoot mark a withering glare, but he just grins back, pushing your shirt up under your chin and offering the hem for you to bite down on.
“thank you,” he says gleefully, his words a little too airy and sing-songy for you to let slide. you try and kick him again, but he blocks your leg without much of a second thought, eyes laser focused on the sight of your tits in front of him.
“wow, you are so fucking pretty.”
the way he says it is so full of awe– so genuine– that it makes your mouth fall open. the t-shirt in your mouth gets stuck on your bottom lip in the process, and the sight makes mark chuckle, a boyish grin settling on his face. he reaches up to adjust it and pulls it back up so you can bite down on it again.
“i didn’t even say anything crazy yet,” he teases, laughing as you do your best to swear at him from around the fabric. mark ignores it to focus on the sight in front of him instead, though, fingers tracing up your rib cage before cupping the underside of each of your breasts.
your mind goes blank when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.
“oh, fuck,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed and into his mouth. the t-shirt slips from between your teeth again, and you can feel mark grin around where his tongue swirls around your skin, popping off to look at you and chastise you softly.
“jeez, you really suck at following instructions,” mark playfully says. “and did you forget that my mom is downstairs? i’ve had her knock on the door during sex before, and trust me, it does not help to sustain the mood.”
“god, you sound like such a dork. ‘it does not help to sustain–’”
mark cuts you off with a groan, fingers curling into the waistband of your shorts and panties. “shut up and lift your hips already.”
you giggle. “fine, fine.”
you plant your feet and lift your hips off the bed enough for mark to tug your clothes off, separating your shorts from your underwear so he can tuck the garment into his pocket. You look at him with a flustered expression, mouth dropping open in bewilderment, but mark simply sticks his tongue out at you and flings your shorts to the floor, panties nowhere in sight. you hardly have enough time to process him keeping them for himself before he’s wrapping his hands around your thighs and tugging them onto his shoulders, putting him face to face with your cunt and lifting your lower back completely off the bed.
you knew mark was strong, but you never thought of him using his strength like this.
mark holds you firmly as he busies himself with eating you out like a man starved. those big, brown doe eyes of his look down at you, sometimes lingering on the rise and fall of your chest, and sometimes taking in the sight of your knitted brows and parted lips, both your hands tangled in the pillow behind your head. his eyes do fall shut every once in a while as if he’s savoring the taste of you on his tongue, and he probably is, knowing mark, but you don’t have the wherewithal to tease him. not now, at least. not when he’s got his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in these sporadic little bursts that make your stomach burn with molten need.
“oh, f-uck,” you gasp, voice cracking on the expletive. in your defense, it’s the only word you currently feel like you know how to say, but mark doesn’t laugh or tease you for it. he just presses a messy kiss to your clit, then slides his tongue down through your folds to circle your hole, slowly and messily pressing inside of you. he pumps it in and out for a few moments, as if he’s trying to fuck you with his tongue, then flattens the muscle and drags it back up to your clit to press into it firmly. you untangle your fingers from the sheets and reach up to swat at mark’s thigh, twisting and turning frantically in his hold.
“oh my fucking god, mark, let go!” your whines are urgent, thighs beginning to quiver on either side of mark’s head. his eyes flutter open enough to look at you through his long, thick lashes, but his firm grip on your waist doesn’t let up in the slightest. his arms tighten around you, keeping your pussy to his lips and your body off the bed as he continues to ravage you like it’s the one thing he was born to do. “mark! ‘m fuckin’ serious– i’m gonna squirt if you don’t let go of m– oh, fuck!”
you realize your warning is a bit late as you feel that knot tighten and snap in your belly, but it would’ve fallen on deaf ears regardless of whether you said it earlier or not. your cunt gushes all over mark’s nose, lips, and chin, soaking the top of his t-shirt and dribbling a bit down onto the bed below. you’d think he’d have a concern of drowning, but mark’s tongue keeps moving as you cum, legs squeezing against his ears so tight that you’re sure he can hear absolutely nothing but his own heartbeat. you know you sure can’t– all you can hear is the distant sound of your own voice, and the way your breathing stutters in your chest, a series of tremors wracking your body so brutally that you’d liken them to an earthquake.
“shit,” you gasp softly, limbs tingling once they regain sensation. you wriggle in mark’s grasp and he pulls back from your pussy with a pop!, lowering your hips down to the bed as he runs his tongue along his lower lip.
“you said you were about to squirt as if that was going to deter me,” mark says breathlessly, a soft laugh punctuating his sentence. his face is covered with your slick all over his lips and chin, the sun from the window catching on it in a way that makes it glisten. you’re embarrassed by his nonchalance, but it’s hard to be mad when mark looks this good. you did this to him– made his perfectly slicked-back hair disheveled, and soaked his lower face and chest in your cum. normally, you would reply to his quip right away, but right now, you don’t. you’re much too focused on watching how mark leans down to reach behind his head and grab at his shirt, shucking it off in one smooth motion to join your discarded shorts on the floor.
“it was supposed to,” you finally say, voice sounding just as breathless as mark’s. his lips quirk up at the corners, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. instead, he leans over you to open his bedside drawer, and you take that as an opportunity to continue. “didn’t realize i was sleeping with superfreak, over here.”
mark snorts. “i’m just a guy who prioritizes my partner’s pleasure over mine.”
“that’s a roundabout way to say you like to eat pussy. and ass. oh god, mark, you don’t eat ass, do you?”
mark wiggles his eyebrows in response, and you look at him with such a horrified expression that a giggle can’t help but escape from his chest. he shuts the bedside table with a soft thud and leans back over you with a strip of two condoms hanging from his mouth. your brows shoot up at the sight, but mark doesn’t see it. he’s much too focused on pushing his sweatpants and boxers down to his thighs, cock slapping lightly against his abs.
oh. you always knew mark looked good, but this? this is something else entirely.
“you’re staring,” mark says wryly, tearing one of the condoms from the strip, then opening up the wrapper with his teeth. you watch as he pinches the tip and rolls the condom onto himself with a level of precision that screams of practice. if you hadn’t just cum your brains out, you might’ve found yourself feeling a little bit jealous.
“‘course i am.” your reply is shameless, and it makes mark bark out a startled laugh. “you said it was big, not that you were carrying a weapon. now here you are, looking like asian adonis with my jizz on your face, rolling a condom on with the ease of a common whore. not to mention that you grabbed two of them.”
a giddy smile spreads across mark’s face in reply, but it’s not one of his usual ones: it’s bashful. it’s the kind of smile where he bites his lip to force it down, but it doesn’t work, so his bottom lip slowly unfurls from between his teeth. your ears burn bright red at the sight, but mark doesn’t comment on it. mark’s never been good at multitasking, and he’s much too focused on tossing the unopened condom to the side, then tugging you against him by your thighs.
“we don’t have to use them both,” mark says softly, the sweetness of his smile bleeding into his voice. it’s a bit jarring for him to be acting so adorably, like he’s not running his cock along the seam of your folds. the tip catches on your clit every so often, making your breath catch in the back of your throat.
“i like how that’s what you chose to comment on.”
he shrugs. “didn’t have much else to say.”
“you’re a dog, you know that, mark?”
mark grins at you wickedly, leaning down to lick a stripe up your cheek.
“mm, yeah. ‘m guilty as charged.”
and just like that, he sinks into you, bottoming out in one smooth thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. your eyes screw shut, but you latch onto him immediately, hand shooting out in search of his. he takes it wordlessly, bringing your hand up so he can kiss your knuckles.
“you okay?” he asks tenderly, lips pressed to the back of your hand. you open your eyes, tears pricking at the corners, then nod slowly as a deep breath leaves your nose.
“yeah,” you say shakily. “just been a while. warn me next time.”
mark nods, doing his best not to get caught up on the fact that you want there to be a next time. “sure,” he answers. “sorry. here– put your legs on my shoulder.”
you lift your legs for mark to take, and he settles both of your feet on one of his shoulders like they belong there. then, he shifts forward, shuffling up so that his thighs bracket your hips, which slots him deeper into you than he has any business being.
it makes you feel crazy. you fucking love it.
once mark feels stable in his position, and any remnants of discomfort bleed from your expression, he starts rocking his hips in and out of you at a pace too quick to be languid, but too slow to be considered harsh. whatever rhythm he’s fallen into, it feels good. you’re clawing at the sheets at your sides and behind your head like a madman, that copy of seance dog he lent you long forgotten on the floor, along with everything else you two have taken off.
“does this answer one of your questions?” mark asks lowly, eyes half-lidded and jaw tight. he’s got your legs pressed to his chest with one hand, the other splayed across your stomach to hold you in place. you can tell it’s not that simple, though; the firmness with which he presses down against your stomach is as if he’s feeling for something, and the realization makes you clench, cunt squelching lewdly around his cock inside you. “did you wonder how i fuck? if i liked it fast? or did it slow?”
in your day-to-day conversations, mark doesn’t swear all that often– at least, not compared to you– but the mouth he’s got on him in bed is a surprise that makes you flush down to your chest. you look up to see mark gazing at you with eyes that are almost black, a bright blush fanning across his freckled cheeks and nose. when he sees you struggle to answer, the gears clearly turning, but no words coming out, he grips your legs tighter and quickens the snap of his hips. mark’s lips fall open with a breathy moan as he watches the way your eyes roll back, and his abdomen clenches with the need to keep his own pleasure at bay. “c’mon, baby. tell me. tell me how you want it, ‘n’ i promise i’ll do whatever you say.”
“i– god, fuck, mark, yes, i wondered how you fucked!” your reply comes out breathy, whiny, and and rushed– a result of you making an actual effort to focus so it didn’t come out as a jumbled, inaudible mess. “i w-wondered if you’d treat me like glass, or fuck me like i had no self-respect. i don’t care what you do right now– swear t’god i don’t– ‘cause i just wanna cum. don’t fucking stop.”
mark huffs out a laugh at how desperate you sound, lips quirking up in a lopsided smile that shows off the cute little fangs he has in the corners of his mouth. he turns his head to kiss one of your ankles, then takes one to put it on the opposite side, making it so you have one leg on each of his shoulders. large, calloused hands slide down your legs and smooth over your thighs before taking your hands into each of his. you’re about to ask what he’s doing, but there’s no time for the words to come out. he’s already gripping both your wrists and tugging you forward, forcing your ass to smack against his thighs with every brutal snap of his hips.
your brain is about to melt out of your fucking ears.
“did you touch yourself?” mark’s asks breathlessly, dark eyes focused on your face. you try desperately to free your hands from his grasp, but your attempts are pathetically uncoordinated. the way his cock is rearranging your guts makes it impossibly difficult to focus. but despite your lack of success, your writhing makes mark tut at you disapprovingly, and he leans forward to keep you in place by resting a fraction of his body weight on your chest. “quit trying to run ‘n’ tell me. did you touch yourself thinking about me fucking you? imagining how it would be?”
mark leans down to lick a stripe up the side of your neck, voice dropping to a filthy, sultry whisper. “‘cause i did. thought about this all the time, what you’d feel like around me. it’s so much fuckin’ better than i imagined.”
you nod your head frantically, hands clenched into fists, and your nails dig so roughly into your palms that it’s a miracle it hasn’t drawn blood. mark isn’t completely satisfied with your response, but he takes it for what it is and releases both of your wrists in favor of grabbing onto your hips.
“if you touched yourself while thinking of me, then show me. play with it for me, hm?”
you don’t need much more coaxing than that.
your fingers fly to your clit at lightening speed, middle and ring finger rubbing in quick, tight circles that mark finds absolutely hypnotizing. your other hand comes up to palm at your breasts, pinching and tweaking at your nipples in a way that makes you whine. mark damn near growls at the sight, a string of expletives you’ve never heard from him before being let out into the ether as he doubles his efforts to fuck you into the mattress.
“open your eyes,” mark demands, his words oozing with a tone you’re very much not used to being addressed with. his voice is low, gravely, and deeply affected by the way your walls squeeze around him, and you find that you quite like having him like this: wrapped around your finger, barely hanging on, lost in everything pertaining to you. the sentiment is definitely shared, because as you force your eyes open, you feel your features pinch the way they do when you’re trying not to cry. it’s nothing bad– far from it, actually. it’s just that mark is fucking you so good that you feel like you’re losing your mind, and the pleasure is so mindboggling that it makes you wanna sob.
“there y’go, baby,” mark sighs, “just keep lookin’ at me. i wanna see your face when you cum.”
his honest admission shoots straight through you and right to your core, pussy clenching around him tightly, your clit throbbing beneath your fingers. mark moans low and long at the feeling, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows hard.
“fuck, i like when y’do that– when you like what i say and you get all tight around me. just– keep touching yourself, pretty. look at me and let it happen.”
all you can do is nod helplessly. mark ducks down to press a kiss to your cheek, fingers pressing what will definitely be bruises tomorrow morning into the skin of your hips. his cock splits you open in a mindbending way, your fingers flicking at your clit so frantically that your hand has become nothing but a blur.
then, the bubble bursts. your orgasm hits you like a truck, your head flying back, and the muscles in your jaw and neck pulling taut. the same goes for your legs– your knees lock up and your thighs pull tight, shaking with violent tremors as you gush again, this time, around mark’s cock. you do your best to keep your eyes open as you cum, but it’s hard. from what you can see, though, mark’s mouth drops open and his eyes flash with something bright– yellow, even– as he takes in the sight of you falling apart. whatever it is, you don’t give it much thought. your brain is much too fried to be trusting everything you see right now.
“you’re a fucking dream like this,” mark mutters, his tone oozing with awe and disbelief. dutifully, he fucks you through your second orgasm– all the squirming, pulsing, and wetness that’s stained his sheets twice in one night– and holds your unfocused gaze all throughout it before he feels you coming down and abruptly pulls out. your twitching legs drop unceremoniously to the bed, and mark swings his thighs over you to settle over your chest, fingers peeling off the condom and tossing it lamely to the side. all you can see past your wet lashes and teary eyes is mark’s fist moving in an urgent blur before he cums all over your chest, the orgasm hitting him so hard that he has to grip the headboard to stabilize himself. his super strength causes it to splinter just slightly as his legs shake, so much so that he can hardly hold himself up.
his cum paints your tits in hot, thick, pearly white strands, and mark clambers up from over you to lay down on the other side of the bed. you find it unfair, the way that he’s panting and shaking much less than you, but you don’t comment. you just stare up at the ceiling, the sound of your breathing filling the air.
“i hope that was good,” mark says earnestly, rolling lazily onto his side to look at you. you take another deep, grounding breath, then turn your head to look at him. your arm comes out too weakly to swat at his chest.
“there’s no way you just asked me that when your cum is drying on my chest.”
mark stares at you for a moment, then busts out into a fit of laughter, reaching behind his head to take the pillow so he can drop it casually onto your face. you can’t help but laugh too, arms coming up to shield yourself from the pillow, and you toss it back to mark where he catches it, then tucks it back under his head.
“fuck me for trying to make sure you’re okay, i guess,” he says dramatically, rolling his eyes.
you flip over onto your stomach and bunch the pillow up under your chin, careful to ignore the wet parts of your chest as you widely grin and quip back. “i just did.”
“more like the other way around. this was me fucking you. into the mattress, might i add.” mark grins mischievously and reaches out to place his hand on your lower back, smoothing over your ass before dipping between your legs to find your folds. he trails his fingers up and down your wet and puffy slit, tongue darting out to wet his lips when he feels you shiver in reply. “but we can go again with you on top if you wanna fuck me. not like i’d ever say no to that. plus, it’d answer one of my questions.”
you’re part your lips to reply, but the sound of feet padding up the stairs, partnered with a soft call of mark’s name, makes you both freeze exactly where you’re at. you look at each other in panic, then scramble to get rid of the proof of what you two just did. mark leaps off the bed and onto his feet with impressive athleticism, tossing you your discarded copy of seance dog that you catch effortlessly with one hand. you tug your t-shirt down over your chest, ignoring the fact that there’s still cum on it you’ve hardly wiped off, and he busies himself with pulling his pants back up and slipping his t-shirt on. the fact that it’s still damp around the collar doesn’t matter– not when there’s much more incriminating evidence like his used condom on the bed, alongside the wrapper and the new one he was about to use on you again ten seconds ago.
you barely manage to get under the covers to hide your lower half by the time debbie opens the door, your shorts haphazardly kicked under the bed, and your panties in mark’s pocket. you double-check to make sure your comic isn’t upside down and open it to a random page, holding it as inconspicuously as possible, right in front of your face. mark’s hands are stuffed into his pants, the condoms and the wrapper fisted tightly in his hands.
“hey, you two,” debbie says sweetly, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you. you swear, even if you two didn’t look suspicious as hell, debbie would still be looking at you two like she knows you did something wrong. “just came to let you know that dinner is ready. and that you two shouldn’t stay up too late tonight. i’m driving you two back to campus early, so i can get to work on time.”
mark smiles tightly. “okay, mom, thanks,” he says, pulling a hand out of his pocket to wave at her goodbye. debbie eyes him amusedly, taking in both of your disheveled appearances one more time before nodding and moving to close the door.
“oh, and mark? it’s been a long time coming, so i don’t mind if you two are having sex, as long as it’s safe and i don’t have to worry about becoming a grandma.”
the color drains from both of your faces, but debbie only laughs, a smile as sweet as her son’s spreading across her face. “but next time, if you’re gonna try and hide it, make sure the panties are tucked all the way into your pocket. i’m not judging what you’re into, but it’s kind of a dead giveaway when blue lace is halfway hanging out of your sweatpants.”
with bakugou, there is no 'mine' and no 'yours', everything is inevitably, ours.
"is that my t-shirt?" you asked breathlessly, standing at the doorway in utter disbelief, watching your hunk of a boyfriend, build like a double door refrigerator, stretching out your poor t-shirt.
he looked down and shrugged his shoulders, as if he couldn't feel the thin straps digging into his skin, couldn't see the fabric barely reaching past his belly button, giving you a glorious view of his tiny waist and well loved happy trail.
"it's laundry day." he walked up to the counter and deposited a half eaten sandwich, poor bargain for your t-shirt, before he tried to slip past you into the hallway.
"so?" you blocked his way, arms folded across your chest, brow quirked at his carefree attitude, "I am sure you have more clothes left."
"so?" he repeated your words, crossing his own arms, hips jutted out as he leaned against the door frame, "last time I checked, you were wearing my shirt."
"I am wearing it, you are stretching it out." you pouted, in distress regarding the fate of your t-shirt, "take it off before the seams come apart."
he glared down at you, before hugging loudly and taking the t-shirt off, making a show out of stripping.
"maybe stay out of my closet," you suggested, batting your lashes at him, hands smoothening the stretches along the fabric of your t-shirt, "especially when you know, nothing would fit you."
"very bold of you to assume that."
he walked away, swaying his hips as he departed, you sighed, his bare torso almost distracting you from the bright red string peeking from the low hanging waistband of his sweats.
The Invincible war breaks out in this Choose Your Own Adventure -- but why are there now multiple versions of your boyfriend claiming to know you in another universe where you're a guy!?
Invincible Variants x Fem!Reader
Choose Your Own Adventure
🔗 READ/PLAY HERE
🎮 interactive fanfic "a change of events" by tzumuuz
📖 Episode 1 of ?
janainaart
areudirty
origamiaround
gummygunk
prguitarman
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
snowghoul
jacobvanloon
theartofmadeline
