he likes taking care of you. in and out of the bedroom. it doesn’t matter if it’s a small or big action—it never fails to make your face heat up, the way he coos whenever you avoid eye contact. he makes you feel loved, which isn’t something you’re too use to.
but with him, you’re going to have to.
especially when he’s pressing kisses to your tear stained cheeks, scarred hands squishing your waist and playing soft skin. three orgasms in, and he’s tapping your twitchy clit with the tip, face flushed and expression happy as ever. it get on your nerves—he had you shaking and twitching, and has the nerve to comment on how pretty you are.
“you’re doing so well,” he hums, and his eyes flick down to your hips. the couch is definitely ruined. he’ll clean it later when you’re napping. “i think you’re ready.”
he’s been holding off for a while now. you know that for a fact; you’ve seen the goddamn dick print whenever he walked around in nothing but his sweats, hair messy and mussed from sleep and toothbrush hanging from his mouth. you’ve felt it whenever he just ‘wanted to feel you’—and would proceed to grind and moan against you like you were a deity.
and while you aren’t one to be embarrassed so easily (lie), you flush and glance down, visibly shuddering.
“that is not. going to fit.”
and the way he giggles at you? you’re fucking dead.
“i hate you—mmh! i hate you, i hate you-”
“you’re so cute.” he moans right into your ear, hips stuttering as he tries to catch his breath. the sounds coming from your body that were a result of him pushing back in, making your eyes roll, were outright pathetic. if you were in your right mind, you’d be ashamed of yourself.
well, you were ashamed, but your brain had turned into mush by now. you couldn’t put much thought into it when your boyfriend was rearranging your guts, and you swear you hear angels singing when he presses his weight down and stays there.
“haah . . . i told you i would make it fit.”
it would be easier to hate him if his smile wasn’t so bright—so pleased and loving as he watches your eyes roll back when you cum.
— kamado tanjirou , MIDORIYA IZUKU, YUJI ITADORI, HAKUJI/akaza, MARK GRAYSON ; all of your favs if you want lolol
Tw: smut, sub!mark but also dom?? (switch ig), he’s down bad for you, you go at it from dusk till dawn, he wants you so bad, you can’t resist his puppy dog eyes.
─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────
It’s been months. You can’t remember the last time you went on a proper date. And god, you tried. You tried so hard to be understanding, to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, to try and carry some of it with you.
But you were human.
And maybe humans and viltrumites couldn’t work out.
You wanted to do this over the phone, by text, anything that wouldn’t require you to see his face, but then he’d flown straight into your kitchen, boyish smile on his face, telling you he was off for the night.
Then was a good as time as any, you decide.
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“P-please.” He begs, dropping to his knees.
Needless to say the breakup wasn’t going to plan.
He nuzzles his face into your stomach, and you feel it tighten at the look in his eyes.
“I’ll be so good.”
You blink.
You’re not sure how you got into your bed, naked, with Mark above you (you know exactly how—you couldn’t resist the tears in his eyes as he begged for one more chance to make things better)
“H-aaah.” He’s panting in your ear now, thrusting slow and hard, each one punctuating his promises.
“You’re mine.” Thrust.
“Never gonna… hnggg… let you go.” Thrust.
“Shittttt… do you feel how,” Thrust. “Deep I am?”
He pushes his palm against the bulge that forms in your stomach every time he pushes in and you thrash wildly, the pleasure becoming too much to bear.
“Mark!” You shout out, and his palm covers your mouth, thumb pressing down on your tongue. You moan around his digit, swirling your tongue around it like you would his cock and he groans, pulsing hard inside you.
“It’s okayyy… cmon,” his voice is low, and there’s a cadence in it that only comes out when he has you like this, shivering and crying on his cock.
“I got you, babe.” You’re unsure how long you’ve been fucking, how much time has passed, but you’re so close and so you redirect his other hand to your clit. He starts drawing small and fast circles on it, and you see white behind your eyes as you finally come.
When you come back to, he’s already cleaned you up and tucked you in, and he’s back in his suit, standing by the window.
“Mark?” You ask groggily.
“Uhm… it’s sunrise. Gotta get back to work.” He hesitates, seeing how your eyebrows scrunch.
You can see the decision weighing on him. So despite it being the reason you wanted to break up with him, the hurt it had caused you, you give him a small nod.
synopsis — what the title says 👅 stumbled upon this on twt and immediately thought of mark grayson. [ the link is porn btw so yeah fair warning ]
warnings — uhh porn with no plot :p
a/n — first post really nervous, i don't really write nsfw a lot so yeah mb if this is bad :( i just really had to get it out there LMFAO. i need him so bad it's actually insane. mark grayson get out my head challenge : impossible!
thinking about mark grayson being a good boy for you <3
jerking him off after a particularly stressful mission, his small moans turning into full blown whimpers and whines as he tries not to blow his load right then and there because he's a good boy, he knows better.
"baby please, please"
please just let him cum already! why are you being so mean to him, he's your sweet boy isn't he? :(
and when you give him the permission he'd been aching for, begging for, he blabbers small thank you's over and over in his whiny voice as he reaches that sweet relief, painting your hand in his sticky hot release.
he breathes heavily, eyes fluttering shut, practically panting as he tries to calm down from that intense orgasm- wait wait no, don't touch him there he's still all sensitive!
he groans, his eyes snapping open when he feels the familiar rhythm of your hand stroking his pretty cock :( he lets out embarrassingly loud noises, he can't do this again! but god it feels so good he can't help himself from bucking his hips up into your ruthless hand, wanting more.
"i can't, oh god i- i can't!" he whimpers, his body seemingly moving on it's own to chase that release again despite his words.
praise him, coo at him and he's all putty in your hands in an instant, willing to give you whatever you want, even if it renders him to an overstimulated pathetic mess, anything for his sweetheart.
his back arches off the bed, leaning into your touch, eyes all glossy as he loses himself in the pleasure you give him. another loud groan of your name rips from the back of his throat as he cums again.
he nearly cries when you don't stop jerking him off, are you trying to milk him dry? mindless babbles and sounds leave his pretty mouth as you use his previous load as lube, gently kissing his tears like you aren't the one overstimulating him.
he squirms and twitches under your touch, giving up on controlling his noises. the pleasure he feels bordering on painful but it only adds to the bliss, it feels so good he swears he sees stars, the only thing on his mind is you.
and when you pinch his nipples and tease them with your tongue, he knows he's done for.
his tears don't stop and neither do his moans of your name, just like your hand against his cock. he makes an effort to not scream your name when he cums for the third time in the span of such a short time by biting down on his bottom lip, he bites down so hard it draws blood. the muscles on his abdomen clenching and unclenching and you swear you've never seen a sight so beautiful.
your boyfriend looks so good like this, it's actually downright unfair how pretty he looks all blissed out like this.
the strongest man on the planet all pliant and needy under you is sure an ego boost.
and absolutely none of that helps with your own growing arousal.
his body writhes harder when you kiss him, everything feels so intense, even the kiss. with his brain turned almost all to mush he tries to sloppily kiss you back, all tongue and teeth accompanied by his soft whimpers which make you giggle.
and normally he'd laugh with you too if he wasn't all flushed and sweaty and acting like a dog in heat. his eyes still glossy as his chest heaves with the uneven breaths he takes.
and to no one's surprise he's still somewhat hard, viltrumite genes do wonders to your libido it seems.
"can you give me another one mark?" my god are you fucking crazy?! let him breathe!
but how can he deny his baby? especially when you look at him like that, but he's not even sure he can cum anymore and-
𝐁𝐅𝐅! 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 who, with his newly developed super hearing can totally hear his best friend touching herself from the house next door !
warnings: MDNI, afab/fem! reader, mentions of porn, masturbation, im so sorry this is rlly dirty
it's been exactly 14 minutes and 53 seconds since you began to touch yourself. you're watching porn - the overexaggerated moans coming from the speakers of your phone almost entirely blocking out the sounds of your own pleasure. you're gasping - each delve of your fingers into your entrance eliciting another sweet cry.
you were home alone for the weekend. obviously. and you were definitely taking advantage of it. what you didn't really consider is your childhood best friend who lived just next door - who also, conveniently, just recently developed superhuman abilities - could hear every micromovement you made: the rustling of your covers, the clicking sounds of your slick rubbing over your clit, the quiet moans you let out.
every. single. detail.
now mark knew what he should have done is put his headphones on and turn the sound up to max. he most definitely should not have stilled his own breathing to focus on each little shuttering gasps you let out. he absolutely should not be fisting his cock and matching the pace of your quickening fingers. but pre-powers mark could have only dreamed of his new abilities allowing him to hear his hot best friend watching porn to get herself off - and he definitely was not going to let the opportunity slip through his grasp.
he was in sync with you: groaning and squeezing the base of his length whenever you curled your fingers - his thumb teasing his weeping slit with every flick of your finger against your clit.
he could hear the clapping sounds of skin meeting skin coming from your phone and he squeezed his eyes shut - imaging the fat of your ass bouncing with every thrust of his into your needy pussy.
he didn't know how he was even lasting as long as he was - the thought of his hand being your welcoming cunt all while getting to listen to you make yourself squirm and cry... it was all too much. it must've been his viltrumite stamina that allowed him to hold off until you came.
when you do come, your voice overtakes the noise of the video playing and he can clearly hear the exact moment your walls flutter around your fingers upon meeting your climax.
he came immediately after, picturing you taking all of his cum while his aching cock dumped more and more of his load all over his taut stomach. his muscles flexed under the heat of his fresh load and he let out a long satisfying groan.
in which, MARK GRAYSON gets hit with an aphrodisiac and runs to the only person on his mind; you.
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includes: mark grayson x bestfriend!reader, fem!reader, mature content (17+), tension, lowkey situationship w/ best friend labels, pwp, piv, dry humping, premature ejaculation, cumming in boxers (markus u loser lmfao), unprotected sex, dirty-talk, obsessive behavior, breeding kink, aphrodisiac, cream-pie, 4.7k words.
‧₊˚✩彡
kinktober masterlist.
YOUR PHONE was vibrating; again. harsh, singular notes echoing and buzzing through your room, stealing you from the comfort and ignorance provided by sleep. worming its way through your thick comforters, the ring-tone frayed dangerously on your last strings of patience-- finally defeating you as you sighed, deeply, reaching for your cell-phone. the only person contacting you at such an ungodly hour would be your best friend; his texts scurrying off against the digital fibres of your screen frantically, as if he was word vomiting with his finger-tips.
blinking regretfully at your screen, the harsh lighting from your phone was blinding in contrast to the familiar darkness of your room; mark's name dashed across your screen and you think vaguely, i should have never let this man's notifications by-pass do not disturb.
a series of texts, spanning just under an hour, glow tauntingly against the shadows of your face.
---
'hi i am coming back rn' - 12:56 am
'dude i hate space some weird alien thing like... spat in my face bro' - 12:58 am
'i tjink it thought i was being rude when i looked disgusted but tbf who DOES THAT?? who spits in a strangers face' - 12:58 am
'cs that dude did it AGAIN like sorry i am not familair w ur customs ya dick' - 12:59 am
'anyways i thinkn im fine im grossed out sure but i feel fine so wtv' - 1:01 am
'my finger tips r tingly......... like weirdly tingly..................' - 1:27 am
'ok so a little bit more of me is tingly now. not a fan, would not recommend.' - 1:36 am
'i feel so weird can i come over ik ur prolly asleep bu t ur bed is better than mine n i think i js need to sleep this off' - 1:40 am
'u can say no tho duh' - 1:40 am
'i take that back, sorry. you cant say no.' - 1:42 am
'im coming.' - 1:44 am
'fuck' - 1:45 am
---
another sigh ripped itself from your lungs, and your phone met the plush of a pillow as you discarded it haphazardly from your grip. mark could be a stubborn boy sometimes, eager in his actions-- often doing before thinking. rolling onto your side to get what little rest you'd acquire for the rest of the night (you and mark had never truly been able to sleep whenever someone hosted a sleep-over; giggling wildly into the lazy hours of the night, time slipped through your fingers like sand with him. easily, and as natural as remembering to breathe); a thought wiggled its way into the depths of your mind, and you smiled ever so slightly as your eyelids grew heavy.
you were sure this was just another time where mark was acting before thinking.
✩✩✩
the act of subtlety had never been mark's strong suit-- a fact you were sorely reminded of as the sound of your window being slid open screeched throughout your bedroom. the noise was jarring, loud; as if the inanimate object itself was yelling, mark is here!
gripping your window-sill with an odd sort of clumsiness and disorganization, mark crawled through your window heavily. it creaked underneath your best friend's weight, wood splintering softly in his wake-- as if this was some sort of unpracticed affair; the bulkiness of it all caused one of your eyebrows to quirk upwards as you sat up in your bed. "mark?" you questioned, rubbing your fist to your sleep-rimmed eyes in an attempt to shoo away exhaustion.
mark swallowed; he stood silently for a moment, his labored breathing the only sound reverberating through your bedroom, before he ran a hand through his hair.
(a nervous tick he had adopted from his father; odd.)
"hey," he said hoarsely, your name following the greeting lightly. the way he sounded, the way he recited your name-- it was almost as if he wanted to say more. like there was more on his mind he was unable to utter; because his mouth clamped shut into a thin line.
"are.. you hurt?" you asked eventually, because good lord, why was mark acting so odd? "you said your finger-tips were ... uh, tingly. and then you followed with the rest of you was feeling tingly too..." your voice trailed off, your unnecessary rambling a cheap effort at lightening the mood.
the boy shook his head, before peeling off his costume's cowl. "no--! no, not hurt," he reassured, faint traces of the mark you knew bleeding through the intense air of the room. "sorry." mark apologized meekly. his dimples popped ever so slightly as you watched him chew on his bottom lip-- the fat going practically raw and bloody underneath the inhumanely sharp canines mark housed.
one of your arms reached side-ways to flick on your bed-side lamp, soft yellows and oranges illuminating your bedroom. when the light reached your best friend, your eyebrows furrowed. mark's cheeks were flushed a romantic shade of red, and his brow-bone glistened underneath a sheen layer of sweat; black locks clung to his forehead, and, had you have been able to see it-- his pupils would have been blown unnaturally large. "mark," you rasped out, motioning for him to come closer, "what's wrong?"
the tips of mark's ears now started to burn the same shade as the rest of his face, his pulse spiking as he slowly approached you. your carpet crunched softly underneath the weight of his boots, and mark took post near the end of your bed. sitting, he rested his elbows on his knees, and held his pretty little head in his hands. "i.. uh, i don't know-- nothing's wrong."
"you don't look like nothing is wrong." you commented, your patience for the boy running thin as he dodged your question again.
there was silence in your room for what felt like an eternity; you stared expectantly at your best friend, and he bore holes into your wall as he stared straight ahead-- still, avoiding your question.
he sighed, suddenly, before mark's hands met the neck-line of his hero costume. using little to no strength, you watched him rip the fabric, tearing it down the center of his abdomen. the tear stopped right at his belly-button, and he began to shrug off the uniform hastily. between the ruffling of your bedsheets at his movement and the sound of fabric being torn from his body (mark was so dramatic), you had almost missed the words that fell so plainly from his lips.
almost.
"it hurts." mark had mumbled simply.
your head tilted, eyes squinting. despite having heard him perfectly fine the first time, you still questioned the meaning behind his words. "what?" you gaped, your irises tracing the faint flex of his biceps as he peeled his arms from the sleeves of his hero costume. "what hurts? i thought you said you weren't injured--"
mark cut you off, his voice uncharacteristically rasp. desperation. "i'm not injured," he countered, as if that explained everything-- why he had been so eager all of a sudden to show up to your house.
"you're really fuckin' confusing me right now, mark," you sighed, dragging your hands up and down your face. "how can--"
mark cut you off again; except, this time, it was not with words. he stood from your bed, turning to face you. taking barely two strides had left him only a few feet away from your figure; he exhaled shakily, before gesturing downwards, "it hurts."
eyes following his motion, you felt suddenly stupid for not spotting the terribly large boner mark was sporting. in his defense-- even from overtop the sturdy fabric of his costume, it looked painful. resting along his lower stomach, you watched it pulse and jump, seemingly defiant of mark. "oh." you squeaked out, feeling something bloom desperately within your core.
"i-i can go," mark offered, stuttering nervously. "i just-- it went from like, zero to a hundred so fast--! one second i was fine, the next i was tingly, and then..." his voice trailed off, and hot burning shame crawled up the back of mark's neck. "i didn't know what to do. you- you were the only thing on my mind, suddenly and--" mark cut himself off, shutting his mouth into a thin line. the next time he spoke, it barely came out as a whisper. "i don't mean to make you uncomfortable, i know we're just friends," he mumbled sweetly, "but... if you aren't completely and utterly repulsed by me at this point, then i'd really.. uh, appreciate your help."
his confession, along with the compassion that oozed from his soul-- despite the less than ideal situation he caught himself in-- caused something to flutter to life within your ribs. it practically knocked the wind from your lungs, and the ambition (greed, hunger, restlessness) in your voice had even caught you off guard. "i can help you." the sensation of your panties dampening and clinging to the outline of your cunt unmistakable-- eyes darting down to his erection, your clit pulsed. "that's what.. best friends are for anyways, right?"
at your enthusiasm, mark seemed to flush an even deeper shade of pink— his tongue darting out to wet the plump of his lips. “are- are you sure?” he questioned, fingers playing the rip in his costume. “i kinda jus’ showed up without… asking if it was okay, you don’t have to feel obligated to help me if you don’t want to,”
“mark.” you broke his rambling quietly, swinging your legs out from underneath your comforter; the cool air that circulated your bedroom raising goosebumps along the fat of your newly exposed thighs.
the boy whispered your name back, an echo of his deepest, most riveting emotions terribly clear in his voice.
“i told you,” you started, curling a finger towards him to motion him closer to you— like expected, (like a good boy), mark obeyed wordlessly. “this is what best friends are for.”
your desire to aid mark certainly— was not out of the blue.
the both of you had been inseparable since early childhood; your bond growing suffocatingly strong day by day. wherever you went, mark followed blindly under the guise of friendship; but you both knew it was something stronger. something always there, lurking underneath the mask of comfortable touches, lingering glances, and joint souls. a singular night, years ago, you and mark had been fourteen; underneath the expanse of washington’s starry sky, your lips had slotted against his in a blind fury of affection. wrapped up in teenage innocence, mark had kissed you back with the same intensity, like he’d never get the chance again. despite this, you and him agreed to remain friends; the fear of change, fear of losing this friendship outweighing the complicated, uncharted waters of love.
the refusal, however, to make anything official didn’t stop your feelings from intensifying tenfold upon your later teenage years— mark’s, too, undying. instead, they bloomed into palms that groped far more than best friends should, and petty arguments that— instead of ending in a fit of giggles— ceased with his lips crashing ceremoniously onto yours.
nevertheless, you were now facing a line the both of you had not crossed before. as mark stood in front of you, his fingers fiddling with the rip of his hero costume, there was uncertainty and blurred lines. sweat beaded at his temples, and you could tell his self-restraint was wearing thin. mostly, though, through the uncharted fogs of intimacy-- there was lust.
"sit." you whispered, patting the bed beside you. mark did as you told, swallowing thickly. the heat radiating from his body was nothing like you had felt before-- as warm as mark usually ran, this was something entirely different. you leaned towards the boy, tilting your head slightly, to begin pressing kisses to his neck.
mark's breath caught, and his chest stuttered. there was a thick, heady need slowly blooming from his core-- and your touches, as light and teasing and beginning as they were-- were not enough. despite this, his chin moved upwards, allowing you better access to the skin on his throat. mark said your name; it was low, like a warning. "you're being so sweet," he groaned lightly.
you smiled against his pulse-point, before sucking on the flushed skin. "you say that like it's a bad thing."
"normally, it's not," mark shivered. "but i- i'm not normal right now."
that got your attention-- peeling yourself from his neck, your lips were plump and lazily coated in your saliva from your kisses. "what do you mean?"
"i told you," mark glanced down at his hands in his lap, which were busy slowly grazing the edges of the outline of his cock. "that stupid alien thing got it- it's powder all over me."
"so?" you questioned, not understanding how the two things connected.
mark flushed impossibly deeper, and you really looked at him.
he was panting, chest heaving up and down. his fingers kept twitching against his throbbing dick, and-- well, he was a mere two seconds away from drooling on you. "...you think the alien thing was an aphrodisiac?"
shamefully, mark nodded-- answering your question. "i-i've never been this hard in my life!" he exasperated, thumbs dipping into the fabric of his ripped costume, the need to yank it lower becoming all-consuming.
leaning forward again, your lips ghosted mark's jaw with ease. "okay," you whispered, vibrations sending shivers down your best friend's spine, "how do you want me to help you if i'm not allowed to be sweet?"
the sound of fabric ripping echoed through-out your bedroom again, and glancing downwards, what remained of mark's costume was dangling lifelessly from his knees. "i want," mark started, voice wavering, "i want you to let me use you."
"use me?"
mark nodded. taking advantage of your position so close to him, you felt a sturdy palm grasp the side of your face; he tilted your head, big brown irises meeting your own. "this isn't what i envisioned for our first time," the boy confessed, his breath fanning across your lips erotically. "i wanted to take my time with you."
your stomach flipped and swirled at his confession, arousal pooling thickly within your cunt. "you've thought about fucking me before?" you question; despite knowing the answer is yes (only because you cannot count the times you've fucked yourself to sleep to the thought of mark-- painfully aware the feeling is mutual), you want to hear him say it.
"no-- i've thought about making love to you," mark hums, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek due to proximity. "it feels almost.. uh, disappointing i'm not going to be doing that to you right now."
mark stood, suddenly, kicking off the remainder of his costume and discarding it aimlessly on your bedroom floor. hovering over you, he leaned forward, pressing you onto your back on the mattress.
your faces came tantalizingly close again, only now mark was lingering a few inches above you. "i don't think this will be disappointing," you express, bottom lip getting caught in between your teeth as you watch mark lick his own slooowly.
"it won't," he confirms, closing the gap between the both of you. your lips touch and the contact almost feels electric-- charged with anticipation and carnality. "and i'll make it up to you another time if it is." he mutters in between kisses, lips heavy and greedy as his mouth slots against yours. "i just-- i need you so bad, baby."
you hum, too wrapped up in the feeling of his lips on yours to pull away and speak. you toss your arms around his neck, pulling mark impossibly closer to you, and you feel him grind against your clothed pussy.
he moans whorishly at the action; every bump, every ridge, every vein of his cock more sensitive than he's ever felt in his life. the sound bleeds into your mouth, and you take the chance to stick your tongue straight down his throat. mark's hands take post on either side of your head, and he leans onto his forearms to steady himself above you-- his hips unrelenting in their movements against yours.
back and forth, over and over and over again.
the only thing separating the both of you now is mark's boxers (an embarrassingly large and crude wet spot forming where the tip of his dick rests) and your pajama shorts and panties. unhappy with this, your counter-part sticks a hand down your shorts to peel them off of your legs-- pausing his rutting until the shorts are off your frame, only to continue with a renewed hunger against your panties. "fuck," mark curses.
it's odd, hearing your best-friend curse; no, scratch that-- it's arousing hearing mark grayson curse. the swear falls from his lips, born out of impetuosity. the sound shoots straight to your pussy, and you can't help but moan.
in return, you hear mark gasp; your own sound spurring an entirely different version of the boy you love to life. he continues to hump, grind, and fuck you over-top your undergarments-- his swollen tip caressing your clit deliciously with every thrusts of his hips.
the both of you aren't even kissing anymore-- just breathing heavily, too entranced in the ecstasy of dry-humping to care about being close to each other in any other way.
"o-oh fuck," mark stutters suddenly, face falling immediately into the crook of your neck.
your eyebrows knit together momentarily, before you feel mark's entire body go rigid. "are you--?"
he nods, and a moan rips itself from his throat, almost as confirmation to what you suspected. it isn't long before the damp spot on his boxers becomes soaked-- his cum seeping through at an alarming rate. it falls in globs onto your panties, and in any other situation-- you'd be laughing.
but a good fifteen seconds have passed and-- mark is still cumming. his cock twitches underneath his underwear and he still, impossibly so, is leaking like a faucet. the worst part of it though, you realize, is that his dick is still painfully hard-- mark's orgasm having little to no aid on his arousal.
when he finally peels himself from the privacy of your neck, watery brown eyes meet yours. he opens his mouth, and you think the boy is going to apologize-- because that is a very mark grayson thing to do-- but all he asks is: "can you take me without prep?"
having caught you off-guard, you falter momentarily.
mark swallows, sucks his teeth, and then speaks again-- not waiting for you to answer his proposed question. "actually, i don't really care," he muses, his palms going to rest on your waist, "you will."
"mark--" you begin, watching him shrug off his ruined boxers easily. they fall to the floor, and you feel panic wash over you; to say mark is well-endowed would be an understatement. his cock glistens underneath the lighting from your bed-side lamp, and no amount of ambient lighting makes it look any less daunting than it is. it's not the width that's the issue-- it's the length. "holy shit, no--! i'll need something--" you try.
mark cuts you off by flipping you onto your side and pushing you further onto the bed. crawling to you, he settles in between your legs, straddling one of your thighs. the other he's got hoisted up on his shoulder by your ankle. "shh," he hushes, pressing a chaste kiss to your calf by turning his head, before using a finger to hook into your panties and pull them to the side. mark hisses, watching your cunt practically sparkle with slick. "look at how wet you are-- it'll be good, m'promise," he hums, aligning himself with your entrance.
the burn of his cock stretching you out follows not too long after his reassurances-- pain erupting from your cunt in a delightful way. mark falters, and you can see some of the boy you love resurface in this pussy-drunk, aphrodisiac infected version of mark grayson. "i know, i'm sorry," he coos. it's useless though-- as mark continues to push into you, inch by inch. "it'll feel good soon, baby, just-- haah-- let me get it in all the way."
when he bottoms out, it almost feels like mark is in your lungs. he's deeper than you thought was possible, and the way his face scrunches up suggests that he, too, feels euphoric.
without warning, his hips start to move-- his cock gliding in and out of your weeping cunt with ease. you cry out, your own hips rocking to both somehow meet his pace and thrash away from it. "ooh shit mark," you gasp, head lolling to the side.
mark only huffs in response, continuing to rock in and out of you desperately. "god-- needed this pussy s'bad," he groaned, tilting his head again to connect with your lower leg. you feel his lips begin to litter open-mouthed kisses to your ankle, the tip of his cock nudging your g-spot repeatedly.
there isn't much you can do back, in such a crude position, but you try to match your best friend's pace regardless. without thought, you shove a hand underneath your tank-top-- fingers instantly connecting to your stiffened nipples to roll them back and forth. the added stimulation has your back arching, and mark moans at the sight.
"that's right," he encourages between breathy moans, hips bucking wildly against your body-- the sound of your thigh meeting his v-line creating obscene noises that reverberate through your bedroom. "feels s'good, doesn't it? g-god, you're all i've been t-thinking about since that stupid shit got into my s-system," mark whines, bottoming out inside you once again, only to push his hips deeper-- grinding and reaching places inside your pussy you didn't even know existed. "like, all at once; it was just you: your face, y-your scent, your-- fuck!-- your perfect tits n' cunt,"
mark's mindless babbling only causes your pussy to clench around his fat cock harder-- squelching and pulsating pornographically. "y-yeah?" you manage to ask, eyes rolling into the back of your skull as he begins to thrust again.
"yeah." mark confirms this with zero hesitation, sweat beginning to drip down his brow-bone and onto the bridge of his nose as he fucks you deeper. "all i could think about while fuckin' cecil was rambling on and on about shit i- i don't even care about," he groaned, head tilting backwards in pure bliss. "'c'mon invincible, didn't you get the reports on the possible foreign allyship colony in-- no, you old fuck, i don't care about that--!" mark's mockery of his boss causes you to laugh-- although it's cut short when the boy impales you on his dick again. "in fact, the only thing i-i've cared about in the past--ohh-- hour is filling my best friend up with my cum."
that causes your eyes to shoot open, and you can't conceal your shock. "w-what?" you sputter, although the way your cunt strangles mark's cock is evidence that you're not as opposed to that idea as you may seem.
"i- i can't help it, i need it," mark whines, his dick throbbing against your walls. "needed you to be wrapped around my cock, n' you let me have that," he begins, "n' now i need to stuff this pretty pussy with my cum so you'll be leakin' me for days." every thrust of his hips now is pointed-- purposeful.
your jaw goes slack, and against your better judgement, you don't argue with him; in fact, you're nodding wordlessly along to his chatter, cunt aching now with the need to be filled. your moans fill your room harmoniously with mark's.
"shiiit," mark groans, brows furrowing, before suddenly pulling out of you. you whine at the loss of him, immediately missing being full, before you feel the boy yank you towards the head of your bed. naturally, you roll onto your back from your side.
mark grabs the leg of yours he had been straddling, bringing it to his second shoulder so now both of your legs dangle near his head. leaning forward, he grasps onto your bed-frame, while aligning himself up with you again.
your back arches violently off of the pillows as mark fucks into you again, this time, not giving you time to adjust to his size. "fuck," he curses, eyes rolling into the back of his skull, "i d-don't know how i didn't immediately bend you over the second i got into your room-- shiit--! i needed this so bad,"
"too busy being nice." you groan softly, and through squinted eyes, you can see the corner of mark's lips tilt upwards.
his grip tightens on your headboard, knuckles going white at the intensity in which he's grasped onto it with. "fuuuck, it doesn't matter now, though, huh?" you shake your head, moaning desperately, and mark grins. "that's right, pretty girl, it- it doesn't. all it means is-- is that i've gotta' make up for lost time."
thrust after thrust, you suddenly feel a hot coil in your stomach begin to form. "mark," you gasp out, fingers tangling themselves in the sheets of your bed as your orgasm approaches quickly.
"oh," mark cries out, terribly in tune with your body as his own hips begin to twitch-- the loss of rhythm in his thrusts apparent as he chases his own high. "wan' you to cum all over this cock, baby," he whispers, fingers digging into your headboard. "and- and i'm going to-- haaah-- fill this cunt up with my cum, breed this sweet fuckin' pussy,"
at his words, and the idea of being filled to the brim with your best friend flooding your mind-- your cunt begins to spasm uncontrollably. "i- i'm cumming," you sob, back arching and hips twisting away (unsuccessfully) from mark's incessant thrusting.
"ooh, fuck--! yes, yesyesyes, cum all over me, that's r-right sweetheart, shit," mark follows suit not long after-- his cock pulsing and spilling his seed into your pussy at an alarming rate. he's groaning, swearing, gasping at the sensation of your cunt greedily sucking up his cum, and he rides out his high by fucking it deeper into you. "fuck-- can't waste any of this cum, right? if- if you wanna be bred, you have to take all of it," mark rambles, hips rocking into yours.
your legs tingle from where they rest on mark's shoulders-- the sensation almost enough to distract you from the heavy weight that still rests snuggly in your cunt.
almost.
through thick lashes, you glance downwards at where you and mark are still connected; although he's catching his breath, you feel mark's cock twitch to life within you again. "mark," you warn hoarsely, voice destroyed from being fucked.
mark swallows, a guilty sort of look painted across his expression. "m'sorry," he apologizes, before he retracts his cock from your cunt-- only to slam it back into you again.
you gasp at the action, toes curling and hips thrashing. "i- i can't--" you try, but mark interrupts you.
"i know," he coos, still thrusting in and out of you now, his pace quickening rapidly. "but- but i jus' need to cum again," mark argues, face scrunching at the sensation of your pussy gripping onto him-- your body's way of saying you need him to stay inside of you without words. "just one more time, okay? m-make sure-- oh fuck-- make sure this cunt is stuffed to the brim."
you nod wordlessly, chin tilting backwards as delirium washes over your body-- far too cock-drunk to tell mark you know he's lying; to tell him you know he won't be able to stop cumming inside of you, spilling into your most sacred part, bind himself to you. to tell him you know the aphrodisiac won't wear off for another few hours, that this is far better than him taking it slow with you, that you wouldn't want to be anywhere but underneath him for the rest of your life.
all you say, instead, is through gritted teeth-- as he bottoms out again, harshly, punishing your g-spot. "t-that's okay," you slur, nails dragging down mark's lower stomach, "this is what best friends are for."
PLUVOiA 25’ ® - masterlist
loren's thots: this was more plot than porn im sorry </3 it lowk feels too intimate for kinktober too like damn...... idk i think some of the appeal is the tension between reader and mark but idk u tell me. in any case i hv other mark works if this one doesnt tickle ur fancy, but i hope it does!! it tickles mine tho i lowk need this man to knock me tf up!
summary: You're just Mark's forgotten human friend, left aside after his life turned upside down. But was that really all you were in the main universe, and what about in others?
author's notes: Hi everyone, how are you? I hope you're all well! Here's another chapter, this one was rewritten twice because I accidentally deleted it lol... wow, I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!
PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 01
❝ YOUR EYES ❪ COLOR ❫ widen as you try to process the scene in front of you. The sight of two Marks (or Invincible) leaves your mind slightly hazy, as if that couldn’t possibly be real.
As if it were just some kind of sick joke. You try to back away from the situation, but the white-suited Mark is faster, his arms sliding around your waist until he grips your hips with extreme force:
That Mark Without Lenses laughs, his dark eyes devouring your face as if you were a work of art ── his pupils dilate, licking his lips:
"Oh," he laughs. "I see you had the same idea as me, Mark," the Mark Without Lenses exclaims, landing atop the debris of the broken wall. Your dorm room had turned into pure chaos, everything shattered, scattered, and covered in dust. "After all... we’re the same person, with the same goal in the end, aren’t we?"
"Shut up," Mark snaps, grinding his teeth. You try to break free from his grip, but his hold is firm, as if he refuses to let you go. "Stay still," he says with unusual seriousness.
"Oh, so you didn’t tell her?" the Mark Without Lenses approaches, laughing mockingly. "You know we’re not the only ones who had this idea... it’s only a matter of time before all the others show up," he smiles maliciously. "And when that happens, the real war will begin."
"Others?" you ask, confused. Your eyes widen as you feel the white-suited Mark tense beside you.
"It doesn’t matter." Mark’s grip tightens painfully on your hip, making you gasp. "I’ll kill them all, without exception. Anyone who lays a hand on my woman will die." He says it so casually it sends chills down your spine.
"My woman?" the other Mark mocks. "You’re stealing from another Mark and still calling her yours?" He bursts out laughing. "How arrogant, Mark Viltrum," the smug grin on his lips is terrifying.
Suddenly, he stops, staring at you as if you were nothing more than prey:
"Sweetheart... close your eyes, I don’t want you to see so much violence... yet." And in an instant, using his super speed, the one without lenses lunges at the other Mark, raising his fists.
Mark Viltrum shoves you aside, and you stumble, falling hard onto the ground. The scene before you is terrifying ── the two colliding, blows clashing as Mark Viltrum blocks with precision.
And the building trembles.
Your breathing becomes uneven as you scramble to your feet in panic. From the corner of your eye, you catch the moment Mark Viltrum lands a punch on the other, making him spit blood... yet he laughs.
And groans. Asking for more.
It’s sickening, and you quickly back away, your steps unsteady, dust rising around you. Taking advantage of the moment when neither of them is paying attention to you, too consumed in a fight that seems endless.
The hallway is empty, and with every strike, the building shakes.
Your mind races as your body pushes toward the emergency stairs ── there’s no way you’d take the elevator in a situation like this.
Who were those two? And why did they look so much like Mark?
You try not to dwell on it, especially not on the fact that there were others. Other Marks? Other copies? And why were they coming after you? Where was the real Mark in all of this?
He definitely wasn’t worried about you. He probably didn’t even know his identity was being stolen by idiots with his same face, voice, and body.
Your steps are desperate as you rush down the stairs from the 7th floor toward the ground level. The building shakes like jelly, the walls starting to crack apart.
Your eyes lock onto the number: 4th floor. You were close. Just a bit more and you’d reach the ground floor, finally escaping this nightmare.
Your steps halt when you notice a man standing at the bottom of the fourth-floor staircase. Tall, slightly muscular, wearing a black and blue suit that covers his entire body, along with a mask.
You freeze halfway on the stairs, your hands trembling as you realize he stopped as well, his shoulders tense as he speaks quickly:
"I’m not here to hurt you," he says calmly. "I came to help you... I won’t hurt you like the others." His voice sounds like Mark’s, though slightly muffled by the mask.
The masked man steps closer ── or tries to ── because you immediately step back, slipping and falling onto the step behind you:
"DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!" you shout, eyes wide. He raises his hands in surrender:
"I won’t hurt you," he repeats gently, using the same tone Mark always used with you in tense moments. "I’m not like them... I just want to take care of you."
His shoulders tense even more when he sees how scared and withdrawn you are:
"I miss you," he begins, his voice dropping. "In my universe, you were killed by Omni-Man... and..." He swallows hard, as if on the verge of tears. "But I won’t let the same mistake happen twice... I won’t let anyone hurt you."
Your brows furrow:
"What the hell are you talking about?!" you snap, standing up and gripping the railing. He steps closer again, and you retreat further.
"I’ll protect my mother... and you..." He moves toward you, his steps heavier now. Your eyes widen, your breathing quickens, and you think you’re about to be kidnapped again by some lunatic.
But then the building shakes violently, the structure cracking. Pieces of concrete begin to fall, and you shut your eyes tightly, bracing for impact.
You feel hands grabbing your waist, pulling you away. Your eyes try to focus on something, but the dust—along with something that feels like fabric completely covering you—keeps you from seeing anything.
You stifle a breath, your hands pressing against a strong chest. The wind brushes softly against your face, and panic begins to rise as you try to kick whatever is holding you.
And suddenly, clarity returns to your vision—slowly, you look at the strong arms holding you, noticing the chaos surrounding the campus.
Destruction. The college buildings were ruined, but your building was now reduced to nothing—blocks of concrete where you had once spent so much time.
Your eyes widen in confusion, and you swallow hard as you realize you're in someone’s arms, being carried through the air.
Shit.
Your head quickly turns to the side, your expression shifting when you notice another guy who looks like Mark—but wearing a mask and a pathetically red-and-white uniform.
With Omni-Man’s symbol.
Omni-Man.
Your brain short-circuits, registering those last words. Your arms struggle weakly against the muscular chest, light tears forming in your eyes:
“LET ME GO!” you shout, but that “hero” doesn’t obey. His hands tighten around your waist, as if reminding you who’s in control.
“Don’t be rude,” he says, his voice once again similar to Mark’s, making your stomach twist. “I’m the one in charge here…” His grip becomes firmer. “Maybe I should remind you who you belong to.”
GDA HOSPITAL
Amid all the chaos, Mark stands beside Eve—who lies unconscious in bed, her leg broken, in a light coma.
The world outside was falling apart.
Several variants causing destruction beyond anything seen before. All thanks to Angstrom, who seemed extremely amused watching this dimension crumble into ashes.
Cecil enters the room alongside Donald, who carries a tablet in his hands.
The older man crosses his arms, sighing:
“Mark.” His voice echoes through the room, where only the beeping of Eve’s vital monitors can be heard. “You should be out there, helping other heroes who are dying because of pathetic copies of you.”
“I’m not leaving,” he snaps, clearly frustrated, looking at Eve. “I can’t leave her here alone.”
“She’s in one of the most guarded hospitals… It’s unlikely your variants will find us here,” Cecil explains, while Donald starts scrolling through something on his tablet.
“No.” Mark growls. “I won’t.”
“Your mother, your friends… would you let the world fall into chaos? When Eve is stable?” Cecil presses, growing irritated. “You’re our only available weapon against those monsters.”
“No,” Mark growls again, refusing to look at him.
Silence falls, and Cecil sighs, glancing at Donald, who seems to understand immediately.
Images of destruction project from Donald’s tablet. The college campus… your campus.
It’s like something snaps inside Mark as he sees it.
“We deployed small drones across Chicago… the situation is bad,” Cecil begins, arms crossed. “They left the big cities and came here.”
“There are 25 more heading there… Some were killed, others intercepted… but—” Donald pauses. “They all have one thing in common.”
Mark freezes, letting Eve’s hand slip from his fingers as he stands abruptly, though still tense.
“What?”
“❪ name ❫.”
The silence that follows is terrifying. Cecil knows he’s hit a nerve.
He inhales deeply, adjusting his tie as the image zooms in—you, struggling in Omni-Mark’s arms.
“And there are more heat signatures heading there…” Donald continues. “They probably want something from her, since they haven’t hurt her—and are even fighting each other.”
Mark goes still, eyes locked on the projection. You—defenseless—while Omni-Mark holds you with possessive force.
He feels it. He notices the way the other Marks are looking at you… at what is his.
“I figured you’d want to know that… your childhood sweetheart is in the hands of those maniacs, and she could—”
Cecil is cut off when Mark grabs him by the collar.
“Where… where is she?!” he demands, rage rising through him. He looks like a different man now, almost shaking, fists clenched.
“University campus in C-Chicago!” Cecil answers quickly.
Mark releases him, grabbing his mask from the counter and putting it on.
As he’s about to leave, he glances once more at the projection—at you—and feels a burning urge to destroy that pathetic version of himself.
But the image suddenly glitches and disappears.
“Someone must’ve… taken out our surveillance drone,” Donald says.
Mark clenches his jaw and leaps out the window, flying toward the campus.
Without looking at Donald.
Without looking at Cecil.
Without looking at Eve.
Without looking back.
Flying toward you.
Because he’s tired of pretending that staying away from you was enough.
Tired of pretending that becoming a side character in your life was the right choice—that you’d be safe.
But he was wrong.
Because leaving you alone was enough for dozens of versions of him to come after you—to claim you, to kidnap you, or worse.
He wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers again.
That Mark—this version—would not lose.
He wouldn’t leave you again.
He would run, fly, and kill every single one of them—
SYNOPSIS — (req) mark comes back after his mission but something is off about him…
CONTENT — 18+ minors dni | sex pollen, shower sex, established relationship, technically dub con because of sex pollen but you want each other either way, pet names (baby, sweetheart), hand job, oral (f! receiving), light choking, cum eating? nipple play, biting, marking, light dirty talk? mating press, doggy position, cowgirl position, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie. let me know if i’ve missed anything!
WC — 5.4k
NOTE — i mean… my username is lovee-potions
MASTERLIST | REQUEST
The room was quiet in that restless, too-late kind of way, where every little sound seemed louder than it should have been. The street outside had long since gone still, the light from the window spilling thin stripes across the blankets, but you still couldn’t sleep.
Your sheets were twisted around your legs, warm but uncomfortable, as you stared at the ceiling—trying to force your mind to focus on anything but Mark. Count the cracks in the paint. Listen to the hum of the heater. Focus on the soft rustle of the sheets when you shifted your legs. None of it helped. Every time your eyes closed, your thoughts went right back to him.
You turned onto your side, then your other side, then back again. Rolling onto your stomach, you buried your face in the pillow with a frustrated sigh. The clock on your bedside table glowed with an unforgiving brightness: 2:43AM. You reached for your phone for the third time in ten minutes, half-hoping for a message and half-afraid of what it might say. Nothing. Still nothing.
You hugged the phone to your chest for a second before setting it back on the nightstand, then sat up and rubbed at your face. Your eyes felt heavy, but your body was all nerves, like it had forgotten how to relax. You pulled your knees up under the blankets and stared at the dark window.
Mark would probably hate seeing you like this. He always got this soft, guilty look when he realised you’d been worrying about him. He never liked making you wait. He never liked the fear in your voice when you asked if he was okay.
A sudden sound outside the window made you freeze. Your whole body went tense, heart jumping into your throat, and you were halfway out of bed before you realised it was only the wind brushing the tree branches against the glass. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding and sank back onto the mattress, embarrassed even though no one was there.
After a moment, you reached over and switched on the small lamp beside the bed. The warm light filled the room just enough to make the shadows less sharp. You looked around at the little pieces of Mark that had somehow ended up in your room over time: the hoodie he’d left behind, folded over the chair; the spare comic he’d shoved into your bookshelf because he swore you ‘had to read it’; the stupid souvenir he’d bought on a date and forgotten to take back.
You exhaled slowly, standing once again and heading to the bathroom. The light was harsh at first, making you squint as you flicked it on. You reached for the shower, turning the water on and letting it run as steam slowly began to fill the room.
You caught your reflection in the mirror as you began to undress—the bags under your eyes making you grimace. You stepped under the warm water and let it hit your shoulders, your back, your face—letting the heat sink into the tight places in your body.
For a little while, you focused only on the feeling of it, on the rhythm of the water, on the simple act of breathing until your lungs stopped catching. You pressed your palms against the tile and closed your eyes, trying to wash away the fear that kept circling back.
You tried not to think. Tried not to imagine where he was, what he was doing, whether he was hurt. You were still deep in thought, still caught up in the same loop of dread, running through every possibility your mind could invent. You didn’t hear the bathroom door open, nor the soft rustling of clothes hitting the floor.
You didn’t register the shower door opening and closing until strong arms slipped around your waist that your whole body jolted in surprise, and before you could even turn your head, Mark was there, pressing himself close against your back.
His hold tightened just slightly, like he was making sure you were real. Like he needed to feel you there as much as you needed to feel him. One of his hands rested over your stomach, his thumb moving in a small, absent circle, and when he finally lifted his head, you could hear the tiredness in his voice.
“Missed you,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss against your pulse point.
“Mark?” you gasped, your hands immediately coming up as you turned in his arms.
Your eyes moved over him quickly, taking in everything at once. His skin was flushed, a deep heat radiating off him that you could feel even without touching. There was a faint sheen of sweat along his forehead, trailing down the side of his neck, catching along his collarbone. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath just a little too fast, a little too sharp.
“Mark…” you said again, softer now, your hands shifting from his shoulders to cup his face, then sliding down to his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall beneath your palm. “Hey—slow down. Breathe.”
He let out a shaky breath at that, almost like he hadn’t realised how hard he was breathing until you said it. His forehead dropped forward, resting briefly against yours, his eyes closing as he tried to steady himself.
“I—” he started, voice catching slightly before he swallowed it down.
Your brows pulled together, worry tightening in your chest again. “What’s going on?” you asked, searching his face. “Are you injured?”
“No, I—fuck—” Mark tried again, the word slipping out under his breath as his grip on your waist tightened. He swallowed hard, jaw clenching slightly. “I just missed you.”
“I missed you too, Mark,” you smiled, yet unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. “Promise me that you’re not hurt?”
“I promise, I—,” he cut in quickly, his voice rougher now—strained in a way you weren’t used to hearing from him. Like he was trying to explain something he didn’t have the words for. Like even he didn’t fully understand it. “I’m not hurt, per say…”
You blinked at him, frustration flickering through the concern. “What? Mark? I don't understand?” you sighed, your hands still resting against him, grounding but unsure.
Mark shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck and dropping his gaze. He let out a weak exhale before glancing back up at you and gesturing downwards. “It’s complicated...”
Your eyes followed his motion, and cursed yourself for not noticing sooner. He was hard. Painfully so. Mark kept his gaze on yours as you gave him an up down and had the audacity to look sheepish. He ran a weak hand through his wet hair before letting it fall back down to his side where it tapped nervously against his leg.
“Complicated, huh?” You mumbled, biting back a smile.
Mark groaned at your teasing, seemingly torn between frustration and amusement. He threw his head back against the tiles, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, “No—not like—you know what I mean—”
“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, tracing your fingers down his chest, past his stomach and down to the tuft of hair trailing to his base until you wrapped a hand around his cock, savouring how he throbbed under your palm.
“I hate you,” he mumbled, sucking in a sharp breath.
“No you don’t,” you shook your head fondly. “How’d this happen, hm? Did you just miss me so much?”
“Ha ha,” Mark said dryly, wincing ever so slightly. “It’s just some stupid alien thing.”
“What ‘stupid alien thing’?” you wondered, moving your hand down and teasingly trailing your fingernails over the skin of his balls.
The sensation made him cry out, his cock jerking hard against his stomach. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief second as he tried to keep his composure—his chest rising and falling a little faster with each second that passed.
“There was an object… some kind of relic, I think,” he tried to explain, gulping back a groan. “It gave me this… I dunno, headache, and I thought everything was fine but now—”
“You’re aroused?” you questioned, wrapping your hand back around his base.
“Yeah,” he rasped out after a second. “F-Fuck—I—”
He dragged both hands down his face with a groan that sounded like it had been ripped from his soul. Mark's thighs trembled, his hips thrusting up helplessly into your touch. He was trying, and failing, to keep himself under control, his hands clenching into trembling fists at his sides.
You gave your hand one particular tug and he whined loudly. His tip was flushed an angry-red, glistening and soaked with his precum. The vein along the underside of his length pulsed dangerously each time your thumb slit along the slit in his tip.
“You—you don’t have to do this,” he said, teeth clamped down hard on his lip. “I can wait—oh fuck—I can wait it out…”
“No you can’t, Mark,” you swallowed, your thighs pressing together on their own accord. “You’re in pain. I want to help. I want to make you feel better.”
With one hand firm at his base, your other hand picked up the speed around the head of him. His hips jolted as he fucked himself into your fist. He moaned your name, causing your heart to stutter in your chest at the low, needy sound.
“I’m sorry. I—I’m so sorry… this… please,” Mark groaned out your name. “I’ll—just like that.”
He panted, drawing in gasps of air, and babbled mindlessly. His hips continued to jerk into your hand, unable to help himself, lost to the pleasure. One of his hands came up to the junction of your jaw, pulling your lips onto his.
He took your breath away with how deeply he kissed you. it was incessant, all tongue and teeth. But you let him have his way with you—whatever he needed to feel better—while he broke free to mouth at your pulse.
His tongue flattened against your skin and dragged all the way up your neck, to take your earlobe in his mouth and suck. You moaned at the action, your hand tightening around him. That was all Mark needed before he came with a stuttered cry.
His cock pulsed in your grip, your name tearing from his throat. It felt endless, never seeing him come so much. Mark saw stars, his hips twitching with the force of his orgasm. It was almost painful in its intensity, the pleasure so sharp it made his legs shake.
Thick ropes of cum hit your stomach and trickled down your wrist before being washed away by the spray of water. But still, it wasn't enough. He needed you impossibly closer, he needed to consume every inch of space between you, and despite how much Mark just came, he was still hard. Desperately so.
The relief he expected, the clarity that should have come, was nowhere to be found. If anything, Mark found himself even more aroused than before. Another wave of confused arousal crashed through him, making him groan weakly. He dropped his head onto your shoulder, moving his hips into your hand once again as he hopelessly tried to find some form of relief.
You reached a hand to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back to look at you. You barely got a look at how hazy Mark’s eyes were before he lunged forward and captured your mouth in another kiss.
Mark tried to be gentle but the second your lips parted for him, he was taken over by a need so consuming that he let the last thread of control fray to nothing. One hand fisted your hair, gripping it tight to angle your head exactly where he needed it, while the other gripped your waist.
He pulled you flush to his body, his chest pressed against yours. Gasping at his touch, Mark immediately took advantage, sweeping his tongue past yours. The hand that was on your waist slid down to the curve of your ass, squeezing gently before he lifted you up and pressed you back against the cool surface of the tiles.
Your legs wrapped naturally around his waist and you felt his cock brush against your folds. Water sluiced between you as he pressed closer, the tile cool against your bare back compared to the heat of him.
Mark sucked your bottom lip between his teeth and released it slowly before pulling back. You made a small wounded sound that went straight to his cock and you felt it twitch against your stomach.
Glancing down at his lips, you took in how they were spit-covered, plump and parted as he gulped back his pleasure. Just the sight of him so wrecked made your head spin and thighs clench. His chest heaved against yours, breath coming hard and fast as he pressed his forehead against yours.
“Baby, I can’t,” he panted raggedly, his voice barely recognisable. “You don’t understand… I’m not… I don’t know if I can be gentle.”
“That’s okay, Mark,” you whispered against his lips, sliding a hand up his shoulder to curl around the base of his neck. “Take what you need. Take me.”
“I—are you sure?” he breathed, glancing between your eyes as he tried to find any sort of hesitation. “I don't know if I can stop once I start…”
“Then don’t stop,” you purred, tightening your hand around the base of his neck.
He was all over you in seconds, his teeth scraping against your neck, hot and demanding against your skin—kissing, nipping, licking until he had a trail of marks blooming across it. He didn’t bother hiding how badly he wanted this—how badly he needed to be touching you.
His mouth crashed back onto yours with bruising intensity and your lips parted for him instantly, allowing him to take full control of the kiss. The hand that was in your hair moved down and wrapped around his cock, pumping himself a few times before lining up against your entrance.
You rolled your hips against him, the thick head of his cock dragging through your folds and gathering your slick. The action made your breath stutter, your thighs tightening helplessly around him, trying to draw him even closer, to get more of that intoxicating pleasure.
With one shaky thrust of his hips, Mark buried himself deep inside you, and the sensation punched a desperate sound from the both of you. A long, drawn-out moan left your lips as he stretched you open and filled you completely.
“Oh God, sweetheart,” he murmured, dipping his head and latching his lips onto your neck and sucking hard.
Mark held himself deep inside you for a brief moment that felt like an eternity. He drew back his hips until the tip of his cock slid right to the very edges of your entrance, and then drove it back in, burying himself to the hilt.
You reached a hand up, threading your fingers through the wet strands and tugging at them. He lifted his head from your shoulder and glanced down at where your bodies met, watching his cock slide in and out of you at a frantic pace.
“Feels so good,” he breathed, brushing a calloused thumb over your bottom lip.
As your lips part to let out a moan, Mark slid his thumb into your mouth—pressing the pad of his thumb down against your tongue to make you swallow around it instead. Mark cursed under his breath, his hips stuttering as you sucked on his thumb—his gaze darkened as he watched the way your lips slid over it.
His thumb pulled free from your mouth with a soft, wet pop—a string of saliva connecting him to your bottom lip. His fingers gripped your chin, tilting your head back. He closed the last bit of space between you, lips hovering millimeters above your own, his breath mingling with yours.
Mark’s grip on your chin shifted, his fingers curling to cradle your jaw as his hips slowly began to lose their rhythm as he got closer to his impending orgasm. His thumb moved to the underside of your jaw, tracing the line of your pulse with feather-light pressure.
His thumb moved again, shifting to the delicate column of your throat. He gently squeezed, enough to feel your pulse stutter beneath his touch as he leaned closer. His gaze drifted down to your neck, studying the way you shivered when he exerted that bit of pressure.
“Fuck, I’m close,” he panted, his thumb rubbing small, teasing circles on your fluttering pulse.
Mark’s body tensed at the feeling of your nails raking down his back, a sharp groan tearing from his throat. His hips stuttered again, losing their rhythm as pleasure spiked through him. He pressed you harder against the wall with one hand braced beside your head while the other gripped your thigh to hike it higher around his waist.
Water cascaded over both of you as he leaned in close enough that all you could see was him—dark lashes dripping wet and eyes burning into yours. Mark’s grip on your thigh tightened, his pace turning rougher—needy.
His free hand slid between you, his fingers finding your clit with cruel precision as he drove into you deeper. His fingers pressed harder, his hips pistoning with brutal efficiency. His forehead dropped against your shoulder as the tension in him coiled tighter.
“I’m gonna—I’m—oh shit—” he groaned, coming undone above you.
Your name ripped from his throat like a prayer as he came inside you. He buried himself as deep as he could go as his cock throbbed inside you, pulsing violently as he emptied himself inside your cunt.
There was too much—pulse after pulse filling you beyond capacity. You clenched around him, your body milking every last drop until his cum started to leak around the base of him, dripping down your thighs.
You were coming a few seconds after before your brain could even register it was happening. His arms locked around you in a vice grip, keeping you flush against him as he rode out both your highs with slow, grinding rolls of his hips.
“Fuck—fuck,” he muttered into the curve of your neck.
“Mark,” your voice cracked, still feeling how hard he was.
Blindly reaching to his left, Mark turned off the water before stumbling out of the shower with you still in his arms. He moved with urgency, carrying you a few steps to your bed and laying you down.
He followed you down, planting his forearm beside your head and covering your body with his. You were briefly wary of making everything wet, but then Mark kissed you and every thought evaporated from your mind.
His mouth left a trail of kisses down the column of your neck, pausing to nip lightly at the mark he’d made earlier. He continued his path down your body, his mouth leaving a scalding trail of wet kisses on your skin until he sucked your nipple between his lips.
Mark’s tongue circled the sensitive peak before his teeth grazed against it teasingly. His hand came up to the other, his thumb flicking over the nipple once, twice—watching how it stiffened under his touch before pinching it hard enough to make you gasp.
“Fuck, Mark,” you moaned, arching your back into his touch.
Threading your fingers into his hair, you tugged at the strands as he sucked your nipple into his mouth. His hand palmed and kneaded the other, clinging onto every whining plea that fell from your lips.
Mark groaned against your skin, his hips grinding down against the mattress. He switched to the other side, alternating between your breasts, his tongue laving over the other sensitive mound. He licked, sucked and nipped until both your nipples were peaked and glistened with his spit.
His mouth trailed down your stomach, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake until his hand smoothed up the inside of your thighs before pushing them apart. He manoeuvred you into the perfect position before propping himself on his elbows between your legs.
Only when his hand trailed down to your thigh, his knuckles lightly brushing over your skin, did you finally stop him.
“Mark,” you sighed, holding him back with the hand still tangled in his hair. “It’s not about me, Mark… this is about you.”
“No, I need this,” Mark shook his head, pulling your thighs over his shoulders. “I need to make you feel good too.”
Before you could protest any further, he bruised his face between your legs and devoured you like a man starved. Mark flattened his tongue, licking a long stripe up your slick folds from your aching hole to your clit.
“Oh, fuck,” you panted, tightening your thighs around his head and practically suffocating him.
Mark moaned against your core, reveling in the taste of you and him on his tongue, before his lips latched onto your clit. Your fingers twisted tightly in his hair as your hips bucked up helplessly in response to the maddening sensation.
He tilted his head down, shifting one of his hands to spread you wider with his thumb, opening you up as he licked and prodded at your entrance as the bridge of his nose brushed against your clit. Mark didn’t know if he could be able to keep it slow for long, not with you—not when he took such sick pride in taking you apart like this.
“So fucking delicious,” Mark murmured, pulling back for a second to spit onto your throbbing cunt. As if you needed any more lubrication.
He dove back in, his tongue spearing inside—the obscene wet sound mixing with your gasping moan. Your toes curled as he slid his tongue in and out over and over, curling and massaging your insides.
The sight of Mark was nearly enough to send you over the edge. All flushed skin and flexing muscle, he seeked his own friction by grinding down against the mattress, aching for a bit of relief from the pressure. Mark savoured the taste of you, closing his eyes and humming into your cunt.
Your head lolled even further back into the pillows as the vibrations shot through your body, your eyes fixed at the ceiling and almost teary from how good you felt. Then, without warning, Mark’s two fingers sunk into you as his mouth re-attached to your clit.
“Mark—fuck—Mark,” you moaned incoherently.
As his fingers curled and uncurled against your g-spot, you tilted your hips up to meet the thrusts of his hand. You were shaking now, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as the coil in your stomach wound up tighter and tighter.
Mark’s tongue and fingers continued to work in tandem, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm.
“Need you to come,” Mark rasped against you, feeling you clench around his fingers.
The raw pleading tone of his voice is what does it. Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Mark watched you with rapt attention, keeping his mouth sealed around you—devouring every aftershock.
Mark smiled against your cunt, lapping up your release—even as it dripped down his wrist and chin. He slowed his fingers, gentling their movements, and delivering a final lick before pulling away to press open-mouthed kisses against your inner thighs.
He worked his way back up your body until he reached your face, lips glistening and hair dishevelled from your grip. Mark planted a hand beside your head, fisting the pillow as he leaned down to connect your lips.
You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He kissed you with a desperate kind of fervour, moving a hand to your jaw and tilting your head back so he could claim as much of your mouth as possible.
Your nails raked down his back, leaving a light trail of red in their wake. Mark hissed at the feeling, bucking his hips forward and dragging the swollen head of his cock through your folds, brushing against your clit.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he whimpered, his hands trembling. “Please… I need more… I need you.”
“Fuck, Mark, I—” you gasped, still trying to catch your breath from the previous orgasm. “Yeah, okay… take me.”
You reached a hand between your bodies, guiding his cock and aligning him with your entrance. Not needing to be told twice, Mark slid his hands under your thighs, hitching your legs up until your calves were over his shoulders.
He pressed his chest down against yours, his body caging you in completely. Your hands clutched desperately at his biceps that encased you as he pushed in at an antagonising pace.
You felt every inch, every bump, every ridge, every vein, every perfect, blissful drag of his cock as he split you open once again. Your legs were practically folded to your shoulders, ankles hooked around the back of his neck.
You were so full you could barely breathe, stretched impossibly wide around him—the sensation so unbelievably overwhelming you could come from that alone. He wasn’t giving you any time to adjust, his body operating on pure unfiltered need.
“So good,” he murmured, barely holding his head aloft. “Feels so good. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just need—fuck—need you so bad. Can't stop…."
His cock was buried so far inside you it felt like he was in your stomach. Each one of his thrusts were deeper than the last—his chest smothering your gasps and moans as you took him over and over.
Mark’s arms began to tremble from the tension of keeping you folded under him. He sucked in a sharp breath like he couldn’t stand how good you felt, his hips rolling deeper while locking your eyes together.
At that point, it felt like Mark was practically a part of you. Each time he rocked forward, you chased the friction instinctively. One of Mark’s hands snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.
A sharp cry slipped past your lips, your body jolting with overstimulation from your previous orgasms. Every muscle in your body twitched, wanting to flee from the sensation but, with being pinned beneath him, there was nowhere to go.
You were utterly trapped, unable to do anything but take it. You couldn’t hold back anymore—the combination of his thumb against your clit, his cock pounding into you was all too much.
“Oh god, oh God—” you moaned, grasping his wrist. “I’m close…”
“Please, baby,” he panted, his thrusts becoming needier.
You came with a keening cry as your third orgasm washed over you—your thighs shaking where they were pressed to your chest. Mark continued his thrusts, coaxing you through your orgasm but instead of slowing down, he became more frantic.
Then, without warning, he pulled out of you completely, ignoring your confused whimper, and his hands were on you—gripping your hips and flipping you around. He slid back inside you and bottomed out—his balls slapping against your clit.
Your jaw went slack against the pillows, cheek pressed to the soft fabric by Mark’s hand. He held you there for a moment, his chest hard against your back. His hips began to move, the tip of his cock nudging against your g-spot.
“Mark,” you whimpered, clutching the sheets below you.
“Yeah, baby?” he murmured into your neck. “You like that?”
His forehead dropped between your shoulder blades as his entire body shuddered with the effort to keep himself from coming apart. His hands shook where they gripped your hips; every drag of him inside you slow but punishingly deep.
“Doing so good f’me,” he breathed, kissing your shoulder.
His thrusts started to falter, growing erratic and sloppy—there was a desperate kind of ache in his movements now. The bed creaked beneath his thrusts, the force of his movements causing the headboard to smack against the wall.
Mark dragged a hand around to your stomach then, splaying it over your navel and pressing your back against him. He groaned at the sensation, his teeth biting down into your shoulder and remaining there as he spilled into you in hot pulses.
Thick ropes spurt into your cunt—being stuffed deeper and deeper with every half-thrust that followed. Your mouth fell open on a silent gasp, your eyes wide as he shifted slightly and angled his hips deeper.
You expected him to soften, to give you a moment to recover—even if it was for a second. But, for some unholy reason, Mark still didn’t slow down. A broken whimper fell from your lips as he pulled out of you once again—his and your release dripping from your abused cunt.
In a blur, before you could even catch your breath—before you could even think—he was moving, flipping you over in one smooth motion, pulling you on top of him and sliding you down onto his cock.
You were so full, so overwhelmed, you could barely process that he was still hard, still going, still in desperate need of you. Mark groaned, head tipping back against the headboard as you took him to the hilt.
His eyes locked onto where you rolled your hips—letting his cock slowly drag out of you before sinking right back in. Your thighs flexed as you rode him and the heat between you built. He thrusted up into you, meeting your movements with an unexpected roughness.
“Fuck, baby—” he panted, voice breathless, his finger flexing on your ass. "I can't—fuck, just need one more from you—Can you do that for me? Please, baby, just one more."
You lifted a hand from his chest and cupped his mouth as you rode him harder, faster. The pleasure was building quickly, both your thighs shaking from overstimulation. Your breasts bounced with each movement and Mark’s hands slid up your back, over your ribs, before grabbing your tits.
He squeezed your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making your hips stutter into a slow grind that made his cock rub just right inside you. Mark was so incredibly close to losing it all—his hands roaming at any piece of skin he could reach.
His thumb slid back down to your clit, lazily rubbing circles over the swollen bud. Your back arched, pace stuttering for a second before chasing your fast approaching orgasm. You were coming before your brain could even register it was happening.
“Mark,” you moaned, tilting your head back.
Your thighs shook violently, muscles screaming, as you slowed your movements. You could hear him mumble into your palm and you pressed your hand tighter to his mouth. He was so close, and he knew you felt it too.
With a few more weak thrusts, Mark’s cock twitched inside you, and he groaned into your palm. He shuddered beneath you, the intensity of his orgasm clearly overwhelming as he filled you up one last time.
His hips slowed gradually and you let your hand fall from his mouth—the last of your strength giving out entirely. Your head lolled onto his shoulder, too heavy to hold up anymore.
Mark breathed raggedly against your hair, his chest heaving and he could finally feel the burning under his skin start to fade. His taut muscles finally loosened and the desperate need in his chest began to settle.
You were both spent, and there was nothing left for you both but to melt into one another. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he placed a delicate kiss on your temple. Slowly, he rubbed lazy circles into your skin—his hands soothing and gentle as you regained your bearings.
He looked down at you with a sigh of contentment, and you lifted your head just enough to kiss the underside of his jaw softly. You felt your chest flutter as he leaned in to kiss your forehead—his gaze warm and loving.
Unwillingly, Mark slowly pulled out, watching his cum spill out of you. His throat bobbed, lips parting slightly as he watched it drip down your thighs and cling to your folds.
“Looks like we’re going to need another shower,” he teased softly.
“I guess so,” you hummed sleepily, closing his mouth with a finger under his chin.
