#err........... good morning..........................

and god, it was getting repetitive. the fights. the justified helpness of his pretty eyes. the welling of tears in your blood-shot ones. your yells, pleas. the following, constant, jagged silence from him as he chose his duty over you. again and again and again. the sound of wind whooshing as he flew out of your window when he was confronted by the problems in your relationship. it was becoming a habit. a sick, twisted reality for you and the superhero.

you should leave each other, you pysche begged you as he brushed his teeth standing behind you in the early mornings, pressing his lean, muscular body to your back. you don't work together at all, it mused again when you poured him a cup of coffee. it's just gonna end in a heartbreak, you knew as you kissed his cheeks goodbye as told you he'd be home soon.

but you two were so good together. god.

you laughed at his jokes, hand in hand when out for a walk on the off-chance when he wasn't called on his superhero duties. you smiled up at him and ruffled his hair on cafe dates. you posed with him, all matching and shit, and kissed him stupid in one of the many photobooths you went to. he would get you pizza from italy and matcha from japan. he would give you his classic million-dollar smile and ask if you could forgive him. and you did. always did. only to come back to a shitty reality.

you knew it was doomed. you should have stopped. but you didn't... you couldn't. you loved him! you loved him! you loved him... especially when he always knew how to make it up.

you could still remember the first time he fucked up, before you knew even knew his identity.

you held your head in your palms after your very first big fight. you thought it was fucking over and fairly so. you had had it. you were done. he was so absent, and so full of shit. you and mark were just not going to work out and that was fine. that was fine. that was fin-

triiiiiing!

when you opened your gate, mike stood there.

"i'm sorry," he piped up, a whole cheesecake in his hands. giving you one of his classic mark smile, he asked. "please forgive me?"

and you did. but not before you mumbled about how he wasn't allowed to cancel on you again.

he promised you he wouldn't. he then cancelled on you atleast seventeen times. then, you broke up with him. and then, he won you back again.

after that, fight after fight, mark would find a way to make it upto you. extravagant trips, food, anything! but then, it got too much. you didn't want pizza from italy or matcha from japan or tteokbokki from korea. you wanted your boyfriend. and he was rarely there. "anything" for his baby started failing when he did everything and anything except reassuring you that he'd leave this superhero life behind and just live normally with you.

and so, it changed. it went from trips and food to begging. excessive begging. mark would tear up at the thought of losing you, at the thought of ever being parted. he couldn't lose you. not after all that he had lost. and you couldn't possibly put him through that pain. that ache of loss. so, you stayed.

and that's all you did. stay. any romance between you two had gradually fizzled out. a kiss on your cheek before he left wasn't affection, it was habit. you making enough coffee for two cups wasn't care, it was habit. you automatically leaving his dinner in the fridge to be treated when he got back wasn't love. again, just a habit.

and now, at one in the morning, two years seven months and three days later, you lay awake on the bed of your shared apartment.

the window was cracked open, allowing for a safe and seamless entry for whenever mark reappeared. you probably should have slept. but you couldn't. not with the dull ache in your heart.

an hour later, the sound of the clock going tick-tock was a source of comfort rather than annoyance. your chest rose and fell in steady breaths. your eyes stared at the wall in front of you. and then...

whoosh!

the curtain fluttered as your half-viltrumite boyfriend flew in through the open window. he took off his mask, barely even glanced at you as he immediately asked, "you're awake, babe?"

"yeah." you mumbled from your position, barely lifting your head to greet him.

"oh. shit, sorry. were you waiting up on me? sorry. there was this crazy interdimensional stingray and..." at your lack of response, he sheepishly said, "sorry."

"mark." your voice was feeble, barely audible to yourself. but you knew the viltrumite had super hearing, he could probably pick up on it.

if he heard you, he didn't react. instead, he quickly took off the rest of his suit, "uh, i'll take a quick shower and come. you should sleep, babe."

"mark." you said again, louder.

that made him pause.

"yes?"

you sat up, weary and lagged, "we... we need to talk."

he blinked at you before nodding, "yeah. sure. what is it?"

"this..." you took a deep breath, pinching your forehead, "this is not working."

mark's eyebrows furrowed. his eyes softened. he stepped forward, "what?"

"this isn't working." you repeated.

"no. i mean- i heard you." his words escaped him quickly, "i did."

"you know this isn't working-" you tried to reason.

he didn't even let you finish before he had practically teleported to your side, so close to you, with his face mere inches away from yours and his hands clamoring to stroke your cheek. "babe. i know... i know it is shitty and i work unreasonably long and- and listen, i'll talk to cecil. i'll take some time off—"

"no." you turned your head away from the warmth of his hand. "that's not it."

you felt his fingers twitch against your skin, "no...?"

you met his eyes again and swallowed, "this just isn't it, mark. we're done."

you expected some kind of rambling apology, some fake promise of a far off future when he retires and has all the time in the world for you, or some sort of compensation. but nothing came. nothing but radio silence.

mark grayson simply opened his mouth and closed it shut, again and again, like a fish out of water.

finally, he sighed, "you- you always say this. every once in a while."

you blinked at his words. fury rose to your throat, "yeah? because it's the fucking truth—"

he cut you off, putting his palm on your cheek again. it was soft. it grounded you. it infuriated you. "have i not been a good boyfriend? i mean... fuck, i mean... i try to do everything right. i make up when i fuck up and i always apologize—"

you shrugged his touch away, "and that's not enough. there's no point in those extravagant gestures when you're never fucking here." your voice quietened, packed with a punch, "you're never here."

"i'm here right now."

you inhaled sharply at his words. "at almost 1.30 at night? when i waited the entire night for you to show up? you don't get it mark. you can either be invincible or be mark grayson. you cannot be both."

he blinked at your words, "i- i'm sorry."

his apology hung low in the air alongside the thick silence. he didn't say anything, and neither did you. you couldn't forgive him again, not at the expense of your own ruination.

"it's just... over." you swallowed, looking away from him, "maybe... maybe you should just-" you stopped yourself, wincing, "maybe you should not be with a civilian like me. i clearly don't understand your work and—"

mark kissed you.

at first, you didn't react. didn't kiss him back. instead of backing down, he just increased his fervor, kissing you till he felt like his superhero lungs were on the verge of collapse.

when he pulled away for air, you simply asked, "what... are you doing?"

"making up." he pleaded, "for my mistakes."

"mark..." you watched as he clamored to get his upper half of the suit off. you reached forward and touched his bicep, trying to halt halting him. but he took your palm in his, throwing off his suit somewhere on the floor of your shared apartment. his voice weighed as heavy as the ache in his eyes, "please. let me."

and you wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that sex wouldn't solve any of your problems but your tongue weighed heavy in your mouth. it had been so long since you both... touched. did anything other than kisses or quickies because mark had to run.

"please." his eyes refused to leave yours as he pressed a kiss to the back of your palm. it was chaste but something molten stirred in your core.

"okay." you nodded once, and that's all mark needed.

he kissed you immediately. his hands were on you in a second, one of them cupping your cheek while the other palmed your chest through your sleepshirt. he pushed you backwards until your back was against the headboard, until he had somehow nudged his lower half in between your thighs.

you were sandwiched between the hard wall and him.

"fuck..." you groaned into his mouth, "i missed this."

he nodded, eager, already pawing at your tshirt and ripping it off.

"mark!" you yelped at the rip of the fabric, but he didn't care. his lips latched onto your breasts, his tongue permeating the fabric with lecherous wads of saliva whilst his hips driveled against your clothed cunt.

whatever arguments you had died on the tip of your tongue. this was too much. he was too much. mark was always good at sex, thanks to the viltrumite stamina but when he was needy like this? when he had something to prove... oh god, it was hard to believe you would make out of it alive.

your clothes were ripped off of you. actually. your bra, then your shorts and panties, with not even as much as a decent apology, just the promises of "i'll buy you more." as he threw around the tattered fabric.

his lips circled your nipple, his knee grinding carefully against the heat o your apex. you arched your back and gasped into the air. he grinned against your skin and drank you in feverishly.

"fuck... c'mere." you pulled him up, kissing him again, all while his knee built up that gutting pressure against your core. it was delicious. it was delirious.

kissing down the edge of your lips, and then your jaw and then your neck, he quickly replaced his knee with his fingers. god. his fingers. long, agile digits that knew where exactly to pet. to curl. to work. it was as if you were his personal favourite experiment and he knew exactly where to push and prod to get the most favourable outcome.

he pet your gooey spot, stroking the g-spot so tenderly that it had your thighs tremble and eyes roll back in bliss. he was methodical. in and out. in and out. in and out- and oh fuck, he ramped up the tempo. his fingers delved in and out of you like a machine - precise, deep and fast - until his fingers were all but a crazy blur slick with your juices. his lips still worked against your pulsepoints, sucking in bruises that made your head spin.

"fuck, fuuuck-" you cried into the heady air, head thrown back and shaking as you felt your core tighten. your orgasm built and built until it tore through you, hot and shaking.

mark came to kiss away your cries of pleasure, to drink them in as his fingers did not halt, just momentarily slow down.

"fuck," he groaned, heavy against your lips, "you're squeezing the fuck out of me, babe."

"s-sorry."

"no." he kissed you to shut you up, "don't fuckin' apologize. feels so good. feels like heaven." he panted like he was the one who just came, and then sped up his fingers again.

"mark, no." you winced, already trying to shimmy your hips away at the overstimulation of his doughy fingertips teasing your sensitive pussy again. he groaned at the thought of you escaping, "don't run from me."

"'senough..." you argued, thick-tongued and hazy, "i'm- it's enough."

"no." he kissed you again, and then, without missing a beat, lowered himself down your body. you felt his hot, open-mouthed kisses everywhere on your simmering skin as he went down - from your collarbone to the valley of your breasts and your belly, to your hip and inner thigh. his fingers didn't stop in the slightest, and now his sinful mouth had joined in the mix.

his tongue traced delicious patterns onto your clit, teasing and probing the nub until you were forcing his head deeper in and squirming your hips farther away.

the tremor in your thighs picked up pace, and before you could run, or even think of it, mark had his arms looped steadfast around your legs. he pinned you down, rendering you useless completely and utterly.

you pawed at his head, "mark— shit... too much— seriously!"

"no, no, no." he cried against your gushing pussy, kissing it intimately, "please don't run. i have to make up for this..."

you're sure your boyfriend was rambling on in the background, something about how sweet you were and how lovely you tasted but you couldn't hear any of it, not over the dull roar of blood in your eardrums. as your second orgasm washed over you, you felt your vision blank. your back arched, nails ripped into his shoulders and eyes rolled back. for a moment, all that existed was you and mark and the sexual limbo he had subjected you to.

you're not sure how long it took — seconds, or perhaps minutes — but when you caught your breath and felt your vision return to your body, you blinked back dark spots just to find mark still attached to your core.

"mark." your throat was choked, eyes heavy with unshed tears. "no more."

he looked up at you, eyes wrecked with lust and devotion. "one more. i wanna feel you cum again. on my fingers. on my face."

if his tongue wasn't enough to give you a blood rush, his words certainly were.

you shied under his intense gaze, "you don't have to— jus-just fuck me now. im ready."

mark blinked at you, as in disbelief. "and miss the feeling of my girl squirting all over me?"

your cheeks heated impossibly higher. you demanded through the embarassment, "but I want you inside."

"i know." mark gave you a smile, still unyielding in his pumps inside your cushiony pussy. "don't worry, I'll make you squirt on my dick too."

any chance of a protest were long dismissed as mark grayson dived into your core again, drinking the erotic liquid pooling from your honeyed sex.

with how overestimated you were, and how well his fingers and mouth worked in tandem, it took only a few minutes till your vision was going splotchy and head was feeling lightheaded.

an unreal pressure built up in your lower belly, then kind that had you gasping chants of your boyfriend's name in the hopes of ruination, or salvation, or both.

"fuck, fuck, fuck—" you panted, in heat and spiraling, "it's... fuck I think I'm going to..."

"yeah?" mark groaned, using his other hand to quickly swipe against your swollen clit. the strikes of his doughy fingertips only teased the burning geyser in your core and before you knew it, you felt your body shake with need and release. a jet of liquid splashed against marks face and like an indecent man, maddened with lust, he hung open his jaw and drank all of it.

you writhed against him, shaking and trembling and gasping in pleasure, and the man still had the audacity to come place kitten licks to your quivering sex.

when, ever-so-slightly, your sanity returned to you, you opened your eyes to find mark grayson cleaning up the mess between the juncture of your thighs with the softest strokes.

you pet his hair, which was now sweaty and sticking to his handsome face.

"too much?" he asked, nuzzling his face against your perspired skin. his face was still practically dripping with your essence.

managing a weak smile, you shrugged, "eh, I've had a viltrumite boyfriend for so long. I'm used to it."

he kissed up your body again, leaving the obscene trail of your juices on your body with every kiss.

when he finally made his way to your face, you wiped off his lips with your palm. he smiled against your skin, "are we good?"

you paused at that. were you? the sex was good but... was it enough?

you looked away to the side. mark gently pulled your face back to him.

"tell me if we aren't." one of his arms hooked your legs over his hips, quickly shuffling to his stifling cock to line against your entrance.

you swallowed, "i don't know." you paused again, feeling his oozing mushroom tip kiss your entrance in such a wicked game of teasing. "i just don't even know if you love me anymore."

that seemed to do it. he blinked at you, confused.

"what?" his expression was hard to decipher, even as someone who was very transparent. "how- how can you say that?"

"i..." you inhaled, sharp, "sorry. it just feels like it..."

he rested his forehead against you, "don't ever fucking say that. don't ever." there was a strain to his words, the kind that was followed by the sheathing of his cock right inside you.

you gasped, "mark!"

but it was done. as someone who loved missions, mark grayson had already found his next. he pushed your thighs to your chest, folding you in as he bludgeoned his cock into you.

"don't fucking say that." he grunted, his pupils blown with lust and resolve. every snap back of his cock was lined with a promise. "i love you."

"i—" words came hard to you. your core was already tight and burning. you were so close.

"i love you." he said it again, like clockwork. like saying it again and again made it any more true. "you don't get to fucking question that. please."

his cock was not in the slightest jilted by the rambunctious nature of his words. he dived his leaky tip to the deepest of your core, stretching you out on himself as if it were habit. his muscled erection massaged your walls.

"mark. fuck. again—nggh!" your sanity had somehow reduced itself to only one word — his name.

he nodded, feverish, bringing one of his hands to swipe at your swollen clit again. it throbbed under him, raw and overstimulated. despite his actions, his words didn't falter. "i love you. i am gonna— fuck, fix this. hah. fix it. all of it. i love you."

with each drag of his cock back into your perfect cunt, he babbled on like a madman. you, on the other hand, were struggling to retain your sanity, much less listen to his pleas.

"fuck— oh my god—" your breathy voice was enough of an indicator of what was to come. mark momentarily stilled inside of you, quickly swiping his fingers against your drenched cunt.

your back bowed, eyes clenched shut and jaw hung open as another stream of squirt hit the man's lower abs, travelling down in rivers of sin.

the juncture of your thighs were a mess of fluids — his, yours, his, and yours. the mixture did nothing but egg him on to increase his pace, to use the fluid as lube to fuck you senseless.

recovering from your fourth consecutive orgasm, you barely registered the tightening of his jaw and his irongrip on your body. he panted, "fuck— hah. god, can I cum inside? please—ngh baby?"

you nodded, not trusting your voice to be capable of much after such violent screams of pleasure.

at your go, mark grayson increased his pace to an unfaltering degree. he was inhumane — fucking you at a speed that almost coaxed another orgasm out of your spent body. your entire body jiggled at the force of his thrusts.

and then, with a few more, he spilled inside you with a unrestrained cry, "oh— holy shit."

mark collapsed on top of you, weighing his muscular body against yours as he took deep breaths. there was a mess in between the juncture of your thighs, and there he was — still buried.

instinctively, your hand flew to his hair again. you pet it, soft and smooth.

"fuck." he groaned into your perspired skin. "that was good." mark looked up, eyes big and doubtful, "yeah?"

you managed a nod, "it was."

he smiled, "are you okay?"

you sighed, still playing with his hair, "i don't think i can walk tomorrow."

mark laughed at that, airy and unserious. "I'll fly you wherever you want."

you rolled your eyes at that. you were in a post-fuck haze, not stupid.

"as if. cecil's gonna be ringing you up any minute now."

"no." mark picked himself up to press a kiss to your lips. a quick peck. "I'll take tomorrow off."

"i thought you said a superhero never takes a day off?" and though there was a teasing lilt to your voice, the two of you knew just how deeply the question flowed.

it wasn't a joke, it was a clever way to corner him, get him to admit the truth that he believed in.

"well, i can either be mark grayson or invincible, right? i choose to be mark grayson tomorrow." he flashed you a sincere smile.

you blinked, "seriously?"

mark nodded. "seriously."

you grinned, "i love you."

"i love you more." he pressed another kiss to your lips, this one a lot longer.

when you both parted, mark smiled against your lips. "i know i fucked up. I'd be better."

you smiled too, "thanks."

mark carefully removed himself from you. he then cleaned you up, offering you one of his tshirts to sleep in. you're not sure how quickly you fell asleep, but you fell asleep against his chest, listening to the rise and fall of his chest.

next morning, when you woke up, you reached out for your boyfriend but his side of the bed was empty.

groggy and sore, you blinked the sleep out of your eyes and sighed. cecil probably called. he probably needed to go save the world from an alien species for the fiftieth time this month.

well, it was fine. whatever. it was mark. why were you even expecting anything different? he was a smooth talker. and god, the sex was amazing but when had he ever kept his promises—

"i made french toast!" he announced proudly as he walked into your bedroom, a tray table in his arms.

you blinked, "you're... here?"

"uh, yes?" he looked at you, confused, "today, im mark grayson, remember?"

you blinked from him to the tray in his hands. "right... i just thought you left—"

"cecil called thrice." mark admitted honestly, "but I told him if my girlfriend breaks up with me, I'll probably go berserk and end the planet. and the GDA wouldn't want that." he added, sheepish, "probably."

"wow." you sat up, half impressed and half terrified. "that's a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. stopping invincible from ending the planet."

"it got cecil off my ass for today." he leaned in to kiss you.

you looped your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

maybe the relationship was doomed. but the sex was bomb. and so was his french toast.

a.n: GUESS WHO GOT INTO THE INVINCIBLE FANDOM AND ALSO raise your hand if you want me to do a part two with much more angst. originally, reader was gonna leave mark's sorry ass but then i felt like being nice. hope you enjoyed the filth. (TO ANYONE WHO'S WAITING ON MEDDLE ABOUT, I'M WORKING ON IT.) old m.list | new m.list