#mark x reader

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

Closing the door to your apartment behind you, quietly, twisting the knob to not make a single sound, you tip toed toward the kitchen table and set your purse down. Then your keys. Then, you jumped again.

“Fu-huck!”

His whine echoed from his room, out into the tiny hallway, into the kitchen, and up your skirt. Twisting your knees, squeezing your thighs together, you bit down on your bottom lip and cursed the fact you hadn’t gotten laid in months.

Having Mark for a roommate didn’t help.

Not when he sounded like that.

Pressing your hands into the wood, you sucked down a deep breath and shook it off. He was a male within a few feets radius of you, you didn’t want him, especially not right now, at the start of this week when you wanted anything and everything that walked. Just earlier on your walk home a street vendor complimented your legs, a catcall really, but you very well could’ve spun around and shown them to him up close. 

You didn’t want Mark. You were ovulating and overstimulated and sensitive. And he’s an attractive guy, you’ve told him that before, he knows it, everyone thinks he's sexy.

His bedroom door swung open and your stomach dropped past your knees. He wore grey sweats only, and his headphones lived around his neck, his hair a mess from where they once sat on his head. 

Games. Gaming. Gamer. He was playing games. 

Not fucking someone into his mattress. Though it was hard to tell the difference, he sucked air harshly through his teeth just the same, no matter the activity.

Not that you listened. Or paid attention. Or touched yourself when you knew he had his hand wrapped around his cock thinking his sounds were muffled by the low beat of his nighttime playlist full of underground this guy eats, trust me rappers.

“Hey,” he smiled at you, a flash of perfect teeth with a boyish curl of his lips, “Thought I heard you come in.”

“Hi,” you sighed, standing up straight, composing yourself. Your eyes dropped to his toned middle, his perfectly sculpted chest, the silver chain hanging around his neck…

He swaggered for the fridge, coming closer to you, bodies separated by the table in the middle of the kitchen. The expanse of his back, just as honey, just as broad, just as built as his front, as his everything else. Mark wasn’t a big guy, but jesus god almighty did everything on him fit together in perfect harmony. 

“How was work?” he asked, pulling a water bottle from a shelf, knobby fingers wrapping around the plastic. Arm flexing as he twisted off the cap and brought the spout to his lips, he turned to you and watched you while he drank. 

A slight furrow of his brows beneath his undone hair, a pout in his lips, especially after he pulled the bottle away, the wide innocence in his eyes he wears as a facade, a trick, a ploy, because beneath that purity…

“Did you hear me?”

His smile settled into a smirk.

“Hm?” you hummed, and you watched him drag his eyes up and down your body. Glancing down at yourself you felt your cheeks flush of all color. 

Bent over the table like you were, your knees had turned in. Thighs squeezing together, you practically trembled. Embarrassing. Humiliating really. Emitting a horniness reading absolutely off the charts, he could tell.

“Uh, yeah,” your voice almost squeaked. Pushing off the table you brushed your hands together and scooped up your things. “Work was… good.”

Mark leaned against a counter, his abs flexing ever so slightly. He crossed an arm over his chest and sipped his water, eyes narrowing.

“You’re lying,” he said, tongue darting between his lips, pointing at you with the bottle. Eyes glancing to his glistening lips, you withheld a whimper and shook your head.

You’ve got to get out of here.

“Not lying,” you said with the smallest of giggles, forcing some sort of smile onto your face. “I gotta shower.” 

Starting for your bedroom that lived at the end of the hall, adjacent to Marks, his laugh paralyzed you. Sarcastic, knowing, sadistic. It bled into your ears, melted over your skin, and you despised what it did to your heart. 

“You had your proposal today,” he started, pushing off the counter with his backside, padding over to the hall where you stood begging the bathroom to come closer to you so you wouldn’t have to withstand his presence any longer. “The big one. Your boss would be there, all the guys who think they have big dicks that own the company… Right?”

Turning slowly, very, very slowly, meeting his slightly confused expression, you nodded

“Riiiight,” he sang, voice going low and gravelly. A chill ran down your spine, one you’re hoping he didn’t notice. “I’ve listened to you all month. You’ve been dreading today, ‘cause you knew they weren’t gonna go for your team. They chose that asshole with the money, didn’t they?” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, and he tipped his chin up, looking down at you. The ache between your thighs, the heat beneath your skin, grew tenfold under his stare. 

You could reach out, grab him, fall onto the floor, yank down his sweatpants, slip your panties aside and sink onto him. It wasn’t even about him, you think, maybe. He’s a guy. A man who chronically oozed sex appeal, who caught the eye of everyone walking down the city streets. He’d be something hot, and hard, to fill yourself with, to relieve yourself upon, getting you through this week so you didn’t have to succumb to your vibrator or your own fingers…

He licked his lips again, the tip of his tongue sliding along his bottom lip dangerously slow. 

Back and forth… back and forth… back and- 

“You still with me?” he asked within a breath, almost a whisper, pulling you out of a trance.

You needed to leave. 

Gulping, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. Shook him out of your head. Him and his hot, shirtless self with his grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you knew he wasn’t wearing anything beneath them because the definition between his hips, down his pelvis winked at you. 

“I’m fine.” Snapping your eyes open, you glared at him. “You’re right. Bad day. Thanks so much for reminding me.” You spun on your heels and stormed down the hall, stepping into your bedroom. He attempted to follow, arms shooting out at his side, eyes going wide, all signs of playing wiped from his cheeks.

“Hey, wait, I didn’t mean to do that, I was only trying to-“

You slammed your door shut.

In his face.

Mark Lee was not allowed in your bedroom, not right now. And probably not anytime in the near future. And then some.

This week sucked. A goddamned reminder that you had the worlds sexiest roommate and couldn’t do a thing about it. That the crush you’ve tried to swallow away for a year now was very much still real, very much still hanging over your head, something you can’t seem to escape. Not when your body quite literally begged you to reproduce with him.

Sighing, eyes falling shut, you threw your head back against the door.

Why Mark Lee???

Why your roommate you’ve grown tumultuously close to, closer than anyone else to you at this point in your life???

The Mark Lee who brings home girls some weekends, who goes out to party with friends he met in college, who works remotely, rarely has to leave the apartment, so he’s always here, always saying hi to you, always quick to greet you and bid you a good day when you leave in the morning…

Criminal really, how domestic it all seemed. How some days he’ll hint toward it, completely destroying weeks of suppression you worked oh so hard to build, only to now have to do it all over again.

You promised yourself you wouldn't get to this point.

That living with someone as attractive as Mark would work.

Guys and girls can be friends, you and Mark, you'd beat the stereotype.

Maybe it was time to move out.

Pushing off of your door to peel your top layers off, leaving a shirt and your skirt on to move to the bathroom with, you pulled pins from your hair and slumped onto your bed to pull your socks off.

Glancing about the space, your cozy bedroom you put together yourself, with Mark's help, he really etched himself into every part of your life. 

A hoodie of his laid over the back of a chair, a pair of his sunglasses sat on top of your dresser, some of the earrings in your jewelry box were his... For gods sake, you shared the same shampoo and soap.

Digging your hands through your hair, splaying yourself backwards on your bed, you reached for your laptop and pulled it over your stomach. Opening it, you punched Apartments.com in to the search bar and let available places in your area, nearby work, pop up.

Scrolling for about a minute, eyeing the monthly rent in comparison to location and appearance, you squeezed your eyes shut and groaned. 

Now was not the time.

Tossing your laptop to your mattress, not bothering to log out or shut it, you snatched your towel and disappeared into the bathroom, allowing the hot water to wash away work stress, ovulating thoughts, and feelings.

Wrapping yourself in your towel, tucking it in so it stayed put, you smoothed lotion over your exposed skin, up your neck, down your chest, around your arms. Making note of where your necklace and earrings were on the counter that you'd have to come back for, you picked up your clothes, flipped off the light, and peeked out into the hallway for any sign of Mark.

Years you've lived here, and yet the act of running from the shower to your bedroom performed like some sort of humiliation ritual. 

Not for Mark, of course. He'd wander around in his towel for hours.

The apartment was quiet. No games, no whines, no Mark.

Maybe he left.

Stepping out of the bathroom, leaving the door cracked, you took two giant strides toward your door and spun inside swiftly, turning the knob as you closed your door, just in case he was still here somewhere.

"What are you looking at these for?"

Jumping a mile, grabbing onto the top of your towel, you whirled around with a gasp. 

He was sitting on your bed with your laptop on his legs that were folded under him.

"Mark!" 

He glanced up at you, his brows furrowed and focused, paying no mind to how your cheeks flushed and your body still dripped. "When were you planning on moving?"

"I wasn't, I-I was just-"

Looking down at the screen, he squinted at something. "Looking for apartments in this building."

Stepping toward your bed, you held up a finger. "Everywhere, not just this building."

He scoffed, his lips perking into the tiniest of smirks. "So, you admit it. You're moving out." The way he looked at you...

Both hands held onto your towel, pressing to your chest for your own sanity and composure. 

You were naked.

He was on your bed, half naked.

"I wasn't planning on it," you sighed, eyes wide, hoping to tide him over with your words so that he'd leave and you could continue your search, or, at least put some clothes on. "You saw me when I came in here, I was stressed, so it was the first thing I thought of to do to help my nerves, I guess, I-"

Setting the laptop aside, he rose to his feet, head cocking to the right. All of his accessories were gone, it was just him, his sweats, and that silver chain around his neck.

"How is a new apartment gonna help relieve your stress at work?" he asked, taking small steps toward you. His frame stood bigger than your own. More clothed than you, taller than you, you sunk backward, your body pressing against your door. "I did see you, you were..." His eyes flickered to your lips. "Upset."

Five inches separated you.

"Mark," you whispered, and he looked at you. "It's just a bad day."

"Is it?" he asked, closing two more inches, eyeing your parted lips as your breath hitched. 

Gulping, you nodded, holding onto the cotton that covered you even tighter. "Bad day."

Narrowing his eyes, you could feel his warm breath trickling over your skin still damp from the shower. "So, you thought a new apartment would cure that bad day?" He didn't let you answer, cutting you off before you started. "Why don't you just tell me what you really need, sweetheart," he whispered, closing the gap between you, pressing himself against you, "And we can stop playing fucking games.”

His hands pressed against the wood of the door, his arms caging you in. Chest to chest, his nose nudged yours and he smirked as your eyes fluttered shut.

Intoxicating. 

Every siren in your head shot off.

His warmth, his presence, his smell, his words, his lips.

"Look at me," he murmured, and you obeyed, meeting his proud smile. "Good girl," he cooed, nudging your nose with his. Your knees trembled. He let a soft laugh loose. "Yeah, you like that. I knew it."

"Knew it?" you breathed, your heart pounding between your lungs.

Mark licked his lips and popped his brows. "I hear you too, sweetheart." His lips ghosted yours, smiling as your face screwed up in disbelief. "Oh, yeah," he sang, "You're filthy. How many toys you got in that drawer over there? Wanna play?"

Writhing, pressing your legs together, your core slick already, you whined and shook your head. "Mark."

Parting his lips, softening his face, he pouted. "Oh, babe, you're not in trouble." Taking a hand to your chin, he danced his thumb over your cheek, swooning as you melted into his touch. "I'm teasing," he whispered, taking in how you stared up at him, unable to look at anything else since he said look at me.

Swallowing thickly, you took shallow breaths, your mind tuning to the sound of his voice. Mark pinched your cheek gently, his brows steadying over his deep brown eyes. The way you stared at him, like he hung the stars and held the answer to all of your problems...

"I know what you need," he said just above a whisper, his fingers drawing over your skin gently, dancing down your neck. "As soon as you walked in the door, I could tell." His finger hooked below your chin, lifting it more, your doe eyes deepening. "Fuck," he whispered. "I'll leave you alone, okay, you can get into that drawer-"

He stepped away from you, and you reached for him, hands grabbing onto his bare biceps.

"Mark-"

Your towel slipped.

He didn't look.

His entire being softened.

Waiting.

His eyes never left yours.

Sucking in a shaky breath, he pushed out, "Yeah?"

Clenching your jaw, you gave him the tiniest nod of your head, and he groaned.

"Tell me," he whispered. The feeling of your fingers digging into his skin made his lashes flutter. "Say the words," he shook his head, "Or, you get nothing."

Steadying your breath, breaking through the part of you that longed for him to just give in and swallow you whole, you said, “I need you.”

It was all he needed.

Pushing you up against the door, one hand wrapping around the back of your neck and the other slipping down your body, Mark opened his mouth and pressed his lip to your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin as your arms hooked around his neck. Rocking with him, letting his weight push you to where he wanted you to be, you followed, body lax, under his control.

His fingers slipped between your legs, dragging through your folds, pressing to your clit. Moaning against your neck, grinding himself into you at the sound of your own whimper, he lifted his head and touched his forehead to yours.

“So fucking wet,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss your lips, heavy yet slowly, his tongue poking through to meet with yours, “You’ve been pent up all day, haven’t you?”

“Three days,” you gasped, clinging to him, the massage of his fingers making you tremble.

His tongue dragged over your lips. “Three days?” Pressing wet kisses to your cheek, he muttered, “You’ve been this horny for three days?” Pulling away from you briefly, watching you writhe with every twist of his fingers, every brush of his thumb over your clit, he started to smile. The hand around your neck tightened, pressing into the sides.

“Mark,” you moaned, and the sound he made lit a spark in your belly.

Screwing your eyes shut, you thrashed against the door, knees going weak as he slid two into you, his thumb in a steady rhythm over your bud. Grinding into his hand, throwing your hips in a circle, his smile fell into a smirk.

“You want it bad,” he muttered, dipping down to nip at your neck. “What can I do to you, baby?”

Feeling your belly tighten every time you became aware that this was Mark doing this to you, touching you, making your toes curl, you couldn’t find it within yourself to hold back. Shame was lost on you.

Clawing at his back, gasping for air, a moaning mess, you babbled, “Anything, anything, y-you can do anything, I don’t… Fuck… Mark.”

“Good fucking girl,” he cooed, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth before his lips were latched to you once more. Pumping his fingers into you, curling them towards him, you shook. Bending at the knees, he pressed hot kisses down your chest, grabbing a handful on the way down, his fingers teasing your nipples. Searing his lips down your middle, over your belly button and below, he pulled his fingers from you on his knees and looked up at you. “You’re beautiful.”

Heaving breaths, your cheeks warmed. Covering your face with your hands, you managed to finally crack some sort of giggle. “Stop,” you whispered.

“Come here,” he breathed, gripping your hips, tugging your lower half toward him. Guiding one leg over his shoulder, he smoothed that hand up the back of your thigh, giving your ass a squeeze with a moan. Dragging his thumb through your slick, he curved his lips into the perfect ‘o’ and gazed up at you as he blew cool air over your core. 

Sucking air in through your teeth, jolting away from him, one hand flew down to lace through his hair, giving him the harshest tug. Proud of himself, he beamed up at you and let his tongue roll through his parted lips. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked, voice an octave lower than usual. He didn’t fight against your hold, but you could feel him start to try to. Letting him go, his smile wiped away. “No, hang on to me.”

“I didn’t wanna-”

He gripped your hip, his other hand sliding up your middle to grab a handful of tit. “Hang on to me,” he said through his teeth, nudging himself into your core, his nose pushing on your clit, his tongue sliding into your hole.

Both of your hands knit into his hair, holding onto him for balance as he held you up on one foot.

Lapping at you, his tongue swirling and twisting, the pressure in your belly growing tenfold, you cried out for him and allowed yourself to fall against him, all your composure gone. Mark pressed his fingers into your curves, pinched and toyed with your nipple while he moaned into your pussy soaking his face. Bobbing his head, tongue going flat, he moved with you, your hips circling on his face, riding wherever the pleasure wanted you to go.

Vision blurry, body on fire, you tugged at his hair but it wasn’t enough. You tried to reach down for him, but he wouldn’t move. You wanted to see him, to hold him, hold onto him, kiss him–

“Mark,” you whimpered, trying to pull him off of you. “Mark, please.”

Parting from you once, sucking in a breath, chest heaving, he gazed up at you with lust stricken eyes, his lips and cheeks a mess. “Wanna make you cum,” he groaned, soothing you with a circle of his hand on your thigh, “Doing so good, baby, please?”

“No,” you cried out, pulling him to his feet.

He let you. 

Gently placing you back on the ground, holding you up, he pressed himself to you and cupped your jaw. You gave him a kiss, one small, one soft, one tasting like you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, giggling as he pulled a hand up to wipe his face clean, he kissed you again, longer this time, your breaths in sync, like the beating of your hearts.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. “You okay?”

Nodding, gazing at him, you licked your lips and gave him the quietest whine.

His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, his eyes flickering to it, and with the gentlest whisper, he asked, “Your bed or mine?”

“Stay here,” you breathed, and he smiled.

Taking his hands to your waist, he pulled you up, wrapping you around his front. Stolen kisses on the way there, a few strides backward toward your bed, he tipped over as you giggled and laid you down on your mattress. Tongue escaping, nasty kisses pushed to your neck, Mark pushed his sweats to the floor and climbed over you, his knees pushing yours open.

Taking both hands to your jaw, he tipped your head backward and coerced your lips open with his thumbs, holding them there. His cheeks sucked in, as his length prodded at your entrance, he pursed his lips and let a ball of spit drip onto your tongue. Moans trapped in the back of your throat, you arched against him. 

Mark, eyes dark as ever, bobbed his head and stuck his thumb in your mouth, spreading his spit on your tongue. “I knew it,” he teased, “Again.” As if you were going to be able to question him, he looked you in the eyes and whispered, “Nasty.”

Eyes rolling, you wiggled your hips, the feeling of his tip not enough. Wrapping your lips around his thumb, giving him a harsh suck, you swore the devil flashed in his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he grumbled, “Don’t get me started. I want you gagging every which way, I’ve pictured it, gotten off to it.” You moaned and he laughed. “But, I wanna fuck your pussy more than I wanna fuck your throat,” he dipped down to press a kiss to your forehead, pushing stray hairs out of the way, whispering, “That okay?”

“Please,” you mumbled around his thumb, digging your teeth into it. “Mark, please.”

He lingered by your ear, lips brushing your lobe. “Please, what?”

“Fuck me,” you cried, writhing under him. He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and gripped your chin. Meeting his gaze, you whimpered. “Please, Mark, fuck me. I need you so bad.”

“Thought you were gonna let me bend you over the kitchen table,” he said, reaching a hand between your bodies to grip himself, “Pictured that before, too.”

“Fuck,” you gasped as he slid his tip into you.

He winced at how you squeezed him already, his brows tipped in the middle, his lips curling under. “Let me in, baby, can’t give you what you want if you don’t breathe.”

Your heart beat in your ears. You could barely get any air in as his length pushed inside of you, the pressure too great. The stretch, too much, the thought, the knowing that it was Mark, this was Mark, your roommate, inside of you, his cock, the pleasure–

A long sigh, laced with a whine, washed over him from your lips. Pushing into the hilt, your thighs touching, his hips on your hips, your clit pushing into his pelvis, he laid on top of you, your chests meshed. Parted lips met yours, the brush of a tongue on yours, the stinging of tears in your eyes as he rocked into you– you could feel him in your throat.

His thumbs pushed into your cheeks, his soft touch keeping you with him, brushing over your bottom lashes as your lips parted and you sighed, gazing up at him. 

A mess, both of you. His hair, pushed around in ways he’d never let you see, his eyes, glazed over with euphoria, his lips, parted and hungry. Teeth baring as he rocked into you, your breath hitching in your chest, you drug your hands down his back, your nails leaving behind plush red love marks as they came back up to his shoulders.

“God, I just wanna stay like this,” he mumbled, burying his head in your neck, moaning into your shoulder. “Feel so good, sweetheart,” he sighed, wrapping his lips in a kiss below your jaw.

One of your hands escaped to his hair, knitting into his locks, holding onto him for clarity. “You’re so… big…” you managed to gasp between snaps of his hips.

Smirking down at you, he pushed himself up to his hands, the silver chain on his neck dangling over your nose. “Yeah?”

Managing a smile with your twisted brows, you breathed through a laugh, “Knew it.”

“Fuck, you’re so cute,” he muttered, suffocating you with a kiss, his hands eager to hold you in anyway they possibly could. “You know what it takes to hold myself back?”

Your tongue wanted to pop out of your lips. Biting down on your lip, moaning without giving yourself permission, you blinked up at him, dazed, ignited with nirvana.

Relief.

Mark pushed up off of you, guiding your legs around his waist as he held onto yours. Picking your hips up off the mattress, he pistoled into you and tipped his head back, his groans echoing off the walls, lingering in the air.

“You know what it feels like… to have you walk around here… like you don’t know how hot you are?” He took a thumb to your clit, pressing down, grinning as you cried out and writhed, your hands gripping onto your sheets. “What it feels like… to hear you moan into your pillows… knowing that I could walk in here… and fuck you dumb?”

“Yes,” you gasped, voice broken, “Mark, yes, you drive me fucking crazy.”

He snickered. “Do I?”

Every twist of his thumb made you tremble, your high barreling toward you as you watched his body move. The arch in his back, the push of his hips, where your bodies met, the sound your bodies made…

“I wanted you as soon as I got home,” you babbled, fucking yourself back onto him as he thrust into you, “Wanted you to fuck me, wanted you to make me cum… Mark.”

His body let loose for a second, his composure dropping, his head lulling back, but then he grabbed your waist and pushed you both up to your pillows. Stretching his legs behind him, putting his hands behind your knees, he folded you in half and lowered himself on top of you. 

Hair stuck to his forehead, your breaths tangled in shared air, his chain kissed your chin, your nose, your neck.

“Mark,” you whispered, your belly tightening, your legs shaking around him. Pulling him closer, landing messy kisses to his cheek, to his jaw, you gasped, right on the edge. “M’fu- Mark!”

“Come on,” he whispered, lazy lips brushing your cheek, “C’mon, babe. I got you.” You squeezed him, your body twitching under him, a tumultuous build up, a crash you needed three days ago. Fueled by his hands, his hips, his tongue, you cried out for him, barely recognizing yourself. “Cum for me, sweetheart, c’mon, you can do it.”

Almost missing your lips with a kiss, he moaned into your mouth as his own belly tensed.

“Need you to cum first,” he groaned, letting his fingers toy with your clit, his speed relentless, but he knew as soon as you went silent, he had you. “Be a good girl,” he whined, nose pressing to your cheek, “C’mon… Cum on my cock, baby, isn’t that what you want? Cum and I’ll fill you up, you want that?”

Nodding, fast, barely breathing, only able to suck air in, unable to push any out, you clung to him as your vision seared white, and you convulsed into him, body ignited with a pleasure brand new. You squeezed him tight, giving him little time to warn you he was cumming, filling you up with half a thrust as he dropped to his elbows and whimpered.

You’re not sure how long you laid in silence, spent bodies pressed together on a mussed up bedspread that now needed a washing. Then, he stirred.

Picking up his head of messed up hair, he looked down at you, eyes heavy, lips swollen. Surprised to see you already looking, he smiled, a flash of his teeth poking between his lips. Pulling out of you, taking his time, watching you closely as he did, he kissed you gently.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, shifting over your body to lay beside you, wrapping an arm around your back to tuck you into his side.

Unable to not look at him, you brushed your lips over his chest and whispered, “You’re incredible.”

Resting an arm behind his head, he looked down at you with a lazy smile. “You feel better?”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, making him laugh. “But, I think…”

He flipped his brows over, reaching his hand out to fix the mess that was your hair. “You think what, sweetheart?” 

Curling up against him, you cowered and hid your face in his arm.

“Tell me,” he said softly, smoothing his hand under your chin, lifting your head. Pursing your lips, as if he could tell by the flutter of your lashes, he poked his cheek with his tongue. “Be a good girl and use your words,” he whispered, and you almost whimpered.

Your heart swelled in your chest, your cheeks heating as you whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”

Mark glanced around your room before looking at you crazy. “Am I… going somewhere?” Smiling as you giggled, he screwed his face up and tried to wiggle away from you. “Oh, wait, actually, that's you. How’s the apartment hunt going?”

“No!” Grabbing onto him, pulling him back into you, he rolled over on his side, hovering over you. Blinking up at him, you took a deep breath and shook your head. “I’m not leaving. You overwhelmed me, I thought I had no other option.”

Mark raised his brows. “Instead of just asking me to fuck, you were going to move out? To a whole new apartment? When this one is just fine?” Your smile faded, and your resolve clouded over. Mark tilted his head, curious. “Talk to me.”

Rolling your eyes, dragging your nails against his back, softer this time, you mumbled, “I… like you… Mark.” He didn’t move. “I was thinking about moving, ‘cause… I have feelings for you. And, after this… I want you. I wanted you before. I want to be yours.”

It took his six whole seconds to break into a toothy grin. “Great,” he huffed, catching your lips in a slow kiss, whispering against them, “Which room do you want to be ours?”

Eyes widening, he shocked you with another kiss.

Nudging your nose with his, he winked. “I wanna be yours.”

“nah. im just watching dumb videos. you okay? you sound weird.”

weird. yeah. that was one word for it.

he leaned forward a little, curling into himself, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder while his other hand kept working over his cock. he was flushed to the neck, chest mottled with heat, pulse visible in his throat.

every time he heard your voice through the speaker, it was like a jolt right to his cock — he could feel the way your mouth moved, imagine how your lips would wrap around syllables if he were just a bit closer.

he bit his bottom lip, hard.

“i’m fine,” he said quickly, too quickly, then swallowed. “just… wanted to talk to you.”

he was already so close and that was humiliating in its own right.

your voice was casual, kind. “oh, yeah? what about?”

mark gritted his teeth, hips twitching upward into his palm. “i… i dunno. just missed your voice.”

a pause. you laughed softly.

“that’s weird. you literally saw me earlier today.”

“i know.”

mark closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his palm against the base of his cock to try and slow himself down. it didn’t help. he was throbbing. leaking. his stomach muscles clenched tight every time you said anything.

“but… i like hearing you.”

you went quiet for a beat. “you sure you’re okay? you sound kinda…”

“i’m fine,” mark said again, but his voice broke in the middle of it, strained and raspy, like he was talking through gritted teeth.

he had to pull the phone back a little as a soft, stuttered moan slipped out of him.

shit.

his hand kept moving — too fast now, driven by pure instinct. he tried to breathe slow, tried to pretend he wasn’t literally jerking off with your voice in his ear, but you weren’t helping.

you chuckled again. “you sound like you’re sweating or something. hot in your room?”

“y-yeah,” mark gasped, closing his fist tighter. “hot. so, so hot.”

his knuckles were turning white around the phone. he pressed it harder to his ear, needing to hear every note of your voice. his eyes fluttered shut, head falling back against the wall behind his bed. sweat was already gathering under his arms, on his lower back, on the backs of his thighs. jus toes curled into the sheets, ankles twitching with every slick stroke of his hand.

you kept talking. talking like everything was normal. like your best friend wasn’t secretly jerking off to your voice and biting his fist to keep from moaning into the receiver.

“you been staying up late again?” you asked. “you really sound tired.”

mark choked on a sound that wasn’t a laugh, wasn’t a sob, wasn’t quite a moan.

“mmh—yeah. c-can’t sleep…”

“you should take melatonin or something. or stop watching porn at 3am.”

if only you knew.

mark was panting now, trying to keep it quiet, but every breath was a tremor. his thighs shook with tension, every muscle in his body drawn tight like a bowstring. he sped up again without meaning to, his body begging for release. it wasn’t just the friction. it was you — your voice, your laugh, the way you sounded like you were half-asleep and smiling through every word.

and fuck, he wanted you to hear. even if it ruined everything.

“hey,” you said again, more curious now. “you really okay? you sound like you’re—”

“i’m f—fuck,” mark hissed through his teeth, a broken sound slipping out before he could stop it.

his back arched. he turned his face into the pillow beside him and bit down, hard. his whole body jerked with need.

“s-sorry, sorry—”

you blinked on the other end. “mark… are you… are you sick or something?”

“n-no,” mark whimpered, voice cracking again.

his chest was heaving, cock twitching wildly in his hand now. the wet slick noises of it were starting to get louder — he was so close it hurt.

“just… ngh—just don’t stop talking. please.”

you paused, clearly confused.

“mark, you sure you’re okay? your voice sounds—like you’re in pain or something. you’re not crying, right?”

he almost was.

“no—n-not crying. j-just…”

his fingers slipped, the slick glide of his palm stuttering for a second. he couldn’t do this much longer. every syllable you said was like fuel thrown on the fire. his entire body was one big live wire, and all it would take was one more second of your voice, soft and unknowing in his ear, and he’d—

“oh fuck—fuckfuck—ah—” he gasped suddenly, louder than he meant to.

he couldn’t stop it. his hips jerked up off the bed, his legs kicked once, hard, heel catching on the sheet.

“shit—”

“mark?”

bit it was too late.

he came with a guttural noise halfway between a gasp and a whimper, hand still pumping as thick heat spilled across his abs, wrist, stomach. his thighs were trembling, whole body shaking, the pleasure rolling over him in uncontrollable, stuttering waves. he clenched the phone so tight it creaked in his palm.

your voice cut through the haze.

“…wait. are you—holy shit. were you jerking off?”

mark froze. his face was bright red, chest heaving, jaw slack as the last pulses of pleasure shook through him.

he didn’t answer. he couldn’t.

the silence stretched — the only thing in his room now was the sound of him breathing. hard and shallow. still a little shaky, his hand still cupped over the base of his cock, half-hard and twitching against his sticky palm.

the mess was cooling on his stomach, and he was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating somewhere between orgasm and panic.

“…mark?”

you sounded different now. not angry. not teasing. just… surprised. confused. and a little quieter. your voice had dropped half a note, softer in a way that made his throat close. mark swallowed.

his voice cracked when he finally said it :

“y-yeah.”

one word. barely more than a whisper.

he shifted in bed, feeling how damp the sheets were under his thighs, how raw his skin felt, sensitive to the air now. still holding the phone, mark let out a low, shaky breath and forced himself to speak again.

“i was. i… i was jerking off.”

silence.

god, he wanted to disappear. the shame was burning. he shut his eyes and dragged a hand down his face, fingers shaking slightly. his cock gave a small, involuntary twitch in his hand even now. he should’ve hung up. should’ve made up some lie. should’ve said anything else.

instead, he added : “i couldn’t stop thinking about your voice. it—fuck, it made it worse. better. i don’t know. i just—needed it.”

there was a pause on the other end. but this one felt different.

“…damn,” you finally said.

the word came out low, cautious.

mark’s breath caught. he squeezed his eyes shut.

“you’re mad,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. “i get it, i’m—fucked up, i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have called—”

“no,” you cut in fast. “no, i’m not mad.”

mark blinked. “you’re… not?”

“i mean…” you hesitated. “that’s kinda… hot.”

mark sat up straighter, heart kicking into a full sprint again. “what?”

your voice was a little different now. lower. a little breathy. “you really called me… while you were doing that?”

mark nodded before realizing you couldn’t see it.

“y-yeah.”

he was still hard. somehow. his body didn’t know how to stop with you still on the phone, your voice suddenly filled with something heavier. curiosity? tension? hunger? whatever it was, it sparked like a live wire right in his chest.

“you… wanted to hear me that bad?” you asked.

and mark could picture the look on your face now — confused, pink-cheeked, maybe biting your lip the way you always did when you were trying to process something fast.

“i did,” mark whispered. “i wanted to imagine you in my ear. i already was. but when i actually heard you… i couldn’t stop. you sounded so warm. like—like you were laying next to me.”

“shit,” you mutter, your breath hitched now. “that’s…”

mark gripped the phone tighter. “what?”

“kind of really hot,” you admitted. “like, weirdly hot.”

something inside mark broke open at that.

his hand reflexively slid down over his cock again — not stroking yet, but holding it, grounding himself in sensation, in your voice and the feeling of still being on the edge, desperate for more. his stomach clenched, hips shifting under the blankets.

“are you…” he tried. “turned on right now?”

a soft exhale from you bedore you anwser.

“yeah.”

the sound mark made wasn’t even a word. just a needy gasp, like he’d been underwater and your answer let him breathe again. he rolled his hips forward a little into his palm, dragging his fingers lightly over the head of his cock. still sensitive. almost unbearable.

“can i come over?” you asked.

mark’s breath hitched. the thought was overwhelming, making his cock twitch even more.

“yes,” he said immediately, too fast, too eager. his voice cracked on it, raw and wet with want. “yes, please—fuck, i want you to.”

there was a pause — not hesitation, but heat. you were quiet for a second, and he could hear you shifting on the other end, probably sitting up now, heart racing like his.

“leave the door unlocked,” you said.

mark nodded again, even though you couldn’t see.

“hurry.”

he didn’t hang up.

It bothers you. Like a full pot ready to boil over, you’re about to lose your temper. A whole day spent rotting in bed and your boyfriend, Mark, has not spared you a glance — or a touch, for that matter. 

His eyes have been glued to the book in his hands, and it really didn’t matter if he was on the toilet or in the kitchen preparing a cup of tea for the two of you. No, it didn’t matter. Mark kept his eyes glued to the pages of the despicable book that had become your enemy, and it felt like you weren’t even there.

Reading is an activity you enjoy doing in silence while still being in each other’s company. So many days and nights the two of you have spent talking about what you just finished reading, about theories, about the essays you were going to write about said books.

There’s this rule between you two — you split the semester’s reading list in half, with you and Mark deciding who gets to read whatever title is on the weekly syllabus. And because he’s a gentleman, and because he loves you, your boyfriend always lets you choose first — and maybe he reads the one you chose as well, if he has the time. If not, he’ll just stick to all the details you give him. 

And that’s how your Sunday started. Standing in your boyfriend’s kitchen, and writing down some bullet points so you could remember everything you needed to explain about your book. Mark didn’t waste time talking to you during breakfast, while he ate the eggs you prepared for him — for which he asked so nicely, if maybe you could make them for him — with his eyes glued to the thick book in his hands while he chewed on his bite. 

After spending yesterday’s morning out at the flea market, searching for the two books on your reading list for the upcoming week, Mark spent the rest of the day sleeping while you read the book you chose. So when he found out you had already finished it, he started panicking looking at the thickness of his, and blocked your voice out and away from him, even if you were trying to reassure him that he still had until next Friday to finish it. 

But Mark has always been an overachiever, a stubborn perfectionist, so he refused to put the book down, promising you a detailed summary of the book by the end of Monday afternoon’s seminars you two shared. 

A whole day spent on the couch writing, or in bed trying to take naps next to your boyfriend — whose eyes kept being glued to the book, of course.

And who cares about that stupid book, anyway? It’s not like you have to read every single piece of the syllabus every single time, you can skip one once in a while — or more frequently, like all your classmates do. But Mark is probably the only person in your course that takes it seriously, does his coursework on time, reads, writes projects that are not necessarily related to your course, all while still taking you out on dates, spending time with you, enjoying his hobbies, and going to work.

Still, with the thought of the many more days ahead, during which he can read this monstrosity of a book, you try to distract him. You want his attention, you want to take naps with him, you want to enjoy your time in his apartment, just the two of you. 

“What is it, baby?” He mumbled each time, not even looking at you, and you knew he wasn’t even paying attention if you answered or not.

You played with the waistband of his pyjama shorts, you pulled at his t-shirt sleeve, you playfully bit his bicep while he put his hand under his head searching for a more comfortable position to lie down in. But it all went unnoticed.

You wanted to snatch the book and beat him with it. You wanted to make him chew the pages because he ignored you. You wanted to kiss him every time his lips moved while mumbling and then gasping outraged at something going on in that damned book. You wanted to cover his face in kisses every time he hissed at you when he finally registered your actions and ministrations on his body — arms, torso, neck. 

Eventually, you gave up. You took naps, you started lining down the plot of the screenplay you had to write and submit by the end of the semester, you listened to music and you doom scrolled on tiktok while sending every other video to him so he could check them later. And all you could hear was him breathing peacefully by your side, the rustling of pages, or him mumbling in a sweet habit he doesn’t know he has — when he’s too concentrated and into his own world he starts mumbling the words he’s reading or writing down. And you wanted to kiss him desperately.

But he hits you with the usual “Baby wait just a bit longer, this’s an important part right now!” Swaying your hands away from him, sometimes allowing you to stick to him but he doesn’t register your motions, because he doesn’t reciprocate. 

Mark can barely keep his hands off you — that is when he’s not too busy reading fucking Ulysses, so you knew he was too deep into that book.

You wanted to set that book on fire. 

So by the time the sun started setting outside, and knowing that Mark promised you’ll order some food tonight instead of cooking or going out, you decide to peel yourself off his bed and go have a shower. Not that you think he’ll miss you — or notice you’re gone, for that matter. 

So you take your sweet time, because you bet you’ll still find him lying down on his back, the way you just left him. With no excuse of tearing him away from that damned book, no excuse for dinner, or anything else really, you wonder what else you can do to get his attention on you. 

You even use your shower gel, the vanilla scented one he loves so much on you, and you even discarded of your towel before exiting the bathroom. 

And just how you suspected, your boyfriend hasn’t moved an inch. He just brought a leg up, and seemingly also brought the book closer to his face. 

You sigh, walking towards the bed, turning on the lamp on top the impromptu bedside table he has on the outer side of his bed, noticing he’s squinting his eyes even if he’s wearing his glasses. 

“Thanks baby,” he mumbles, not sparing you a look. Because, if only he spared you a look, he’d be throwing the book away and out the window. 

You don’t bother answering him, knowing too well that he’s not listening. You walk towards his dresser, opening a few drawers to look for your things. But then again, why even bother? It’s not like he’s going to unglue himself from Ulysses in favour of his freshly bathed girlfriend, so why should you put anything on — beside a pair of panties? It’s not like he’d notice, anyway.

You climb the bed, setting back down to his side, and you see him reaching out a hand looking for any body part of yours. You extend your arm, and he grabs it, bringing it to his face, when he inhales the sweet scent of your skin and kisses its softness. 

“Smelling good, baby,” he mumbles the compliment without looking at you, and you look at him full of hope.

“Really?” Your tone is bright, hopeful, but he doesn’t reply back, and doesn’t even notice you snatching your wrist away from his grasp. 

You’ve had enough of it. You’re tired of not having his attention on you, and you know you need to do something if you even want him to unglue himself from that book and order food for you later. You’ll be damned if you allow this man to ignore you for the whole day. 

So you move around on all fours, setting yourself in between his legs. The muscles on his thigh flex as he moves the leg in an unconscious motion from left to right, and your hand travels to touch his inner thigh. He hisses, smacking your hand with his thigh, not even bothering using his hand. 

He grunts as a warning when he feels your fingers travelling on his lower tummy, up to his chest and then back down. “Baby,” he warns, this time grabbing your wrist to stop you from scratching him. But you know what effect your ministrations have on him, and even if he’s not realising, he’s growing harder under your gaze. “I can’t lose this part right now, give me a minute,” he mumbles absentmindedly, letting your hand go. 

So you put it to better use and you graze his growing hard-on, making him hiss once again, but this time he tries swaying your hands away with his own. Too bad that his eyes are still on that page, otherwise he’d see you’re naked and enjoying his squirming.

After all the ignoring he put you through today, you can’t allow him to enjoy everything to the max like you’d normally do, so a thought crosses your mind and you smirk, not even trying to hide it away — because, again, his head is deep into that book. 

“Oh, baby,” you mumble amused, playfully biting on his thigh as your hands bring the elastic band of his pyjama shorts down, exposing his erection to the cool air of his room, “I wouldn’t want you to lose that part either,”

“Dude wha- what are you doing?” He stutters once he feels your cold fingers wrapping around his cock, finally looking away from the book in front of him. He looks down at you, mouth hovering over his crotch.

“What does it look like I’m doing, baby?” You ask him, and you hear his gulping. 

You kiss his tip, and he hisses, sucking air through his teeth as soon as your lips travel up and down the side of his length.

He throws away the book, moving to remove his glasses too, but you frown and straighten up. 

“No,” you tsk, pointing at the book, “I said I don’t want you to lose any important parts. You spent the whole day on it, so I really don’t wanna make you lose focus right now,” your tone is sarcastic, and it gets to him easily, faster than you could have imagined, his cock twitching in your hand as a reminder that he’s very into what you’re doing to him right now. “Pick up the book, Mark,” you command him, “How about you read it out loud for me, hmm?” Your tone is sarcastic once again, but you don’t wait for his answer, your warm mouth wrapping around his tip once again. 

He sucks air through his teeth, but pushes his glasses up on his nose and clears his throat. He licks his lips, trying to maintain his composure, but just as he’s ready to open his mouth to recite the next few lines to you, he feels your tongue twirling around his tip, and a moan escapes past his lips, “O!” He bucks up his hips. 

You don’t fight the smirk rapidly showing on your features as you proceed to give his tip kitten licks, and you enjoy his squirming under your gaze. 

He inhales sharply, as if he’s preparing himself to pull through your challenge, “The poor little fella,” His Canadian accent slips out now that he’s concentrating on something else instead of the image of your lips wrapping around him, and his cock twitches in your grasp when he hears your giggles. 

He takes a peek at you, raising the book swiftly, and you notice how his prominent cheekbones are now tinted with a light shade of red.

His lips are parted, and his gaze doesn’t meet yours, too busy looking at the way your mouth wraps around him once again. 

You hum, amused, while moving your lips along the sides of his shaft, “The poor little fellow…” You speak up, and it makes him snap out of his thoughts, “Go on,”

He nods almost imperceptibly, licking his lips right before he takes a big breath, eyes trying to focus on the words right in his face. 

“Hi-hi-hi-his legs-” He huffs, and you notice the muscles of his thighs tensing while he tries to fight the urge to buck up his hips, hoping for more friction as your tongue still plays along his shaft, “They were yellow,” His voice is raspy, tone low while trying to seem collected, yet you know. You know what you’re doing to him, and that he’s trying his best not to show you that he’s at your mercy — like always.

You allow him to continue reading out loud, while you bring your hand to wrap around his cock, gently squeezing him before you spit on his tip, warm hand moving up and down his shaft with controlled movements. 

He can’t stay still, his hips moving up to meet your strokes, he has that typical desperation that takes over him every single time you’re intimate. His caress always turns into kisses; kisses turn into playful bites and touches laced with an extreme need to be glued to your body, to your skin — he can never keep his hands away from you, and he can’t survive not having yours on himself either.

His voice is raspy, he’s holding that book with so much force that his fingertips turned white, but his hips stopped moving, getting lost in the steady rhythm of your hand.

You lower your head, finally wrapping your mouth around his tip once again, and he moans mid sentence. A smile threatens to stretch across your face, satisfied with yourself at getting reactions out of your boyfriend. 

“Baby-” His moan is high-pitched, hips bucking up to get just a bit more access into your mouth, as much as you’ll allow. Luckily for him, you can’t resist pleasing him and hearing the pretty sounds he makes, so you try to relax your jaw as much as you can, tongue flat on the underside of his cock as you sink your mouth as far down as you can.

You bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue around his sensitive tip, and Mark whimpers at the feeling. Looking up at him, you see him already looking down at you, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, white teeth sinking into his bottom lip trying to keep quiet — but it’s hard. Open mouthed huffs become whimpers and pleas every time he feels his dick sliding on your tongue, tip hitting the back of your throat. 

You sink down on him, flat tongue sending electric shocks across his body as you get to the base of his cock, tip of your tongue coming out to tease his base and his balls.

He starts squirming under your ministrations, his book long forgotten on his chest.

“Babe,” He huffs, trying to sound compose, “Why-” He gulps, tilting his head while moaning, “Why are you doing this to me right now?!” He can barely speak up, he’s becoming too sensitive, too loud, and you know he doesn’t need much more before he cums in your mouth. 

You bring one hand up to his chest, tapping your finger on his book, and he looks at you confused. 

But then his eyes sparkle even more than before, understanding what you mean. He takes the books and throws it away from the bed, and you don’t even care where it lands. You wanted to torture him a bit longer, to make him read a bit more from his stupid book while you kept going down on him with the most agonisingly slow pace — yet you can’t escape how much you want him. 

The torture you’ve subjected him to, albeit it wasn’t even half of what you had planned for him, is starting to bother you as well. Your loins feel on fire, the flimsy panties you put on are totally ruined just by pleasing your boyfriend and hearing the sounds he makes, and you really need to feel him inside of you, his body weight on top of you.

“Fuck,” He curses under his breath, tilting his head behind against the pillow, “Baby, stop! I’m gonna-” You see him sucking his stomach in a few times, and you know that’s your cue to stop. You swallow around his cock, and you see him shivering underneath you, gasping your name right before you retract your mouth and lips from his tip with a pop, and his cock falls heavy on his abdomen.

You hear him moaning before you notice him bringing his right hand up, trying to touch himself and to finally get to finish, but you grab his wrists, pushing both of them against the mattress, as you hover above his figure.

“Fuck, fuck, fu-” He’s frustrated, gasping as he looks up at you, and he moves his hips, trying to rut them against you somehow, yet you don’t allow him. 

You look down at him, still keeping him immobilised, pushing down on his wrists. He’s flushed, panting, his frustration knows no bounds right now. His glasses are making him incredibly hot right now, and the look in his eyes while his gaze bores into yours, makes your insides melt with anticipation. As much as you’d like to just jump on top of him and ride him, you know by the look in his eyes that he has other plans for you.

You bow your head, reaching for his lips, and he does’t even allow you to come completely down before he raises his head to meet you halfway, his lips locking with yours in a hungry kiss.

It becomes messy, his soft lips moving desperately on top of yours, and you grant him access immediately, just as hungry for him. You can’t even keep up with him, he moans into the kiss, and every time you try to break it his lips just follow yours.

“Mark,” You whimper, trying to break the kiss, and you feel him rutting your hips against your core, as you hover above his crotch. His rutting makes you moan, tilting your head back, and he doesn’t lose the opportunity to trace your jaw with his lips, travelling further down your neck, giving you open mouthed kisses along your feverish pulse line. 

You finally sit on top of him, hips moving in order to get a bit of friction and to ease the immense pressure that you’ve been feeling in between your legs.

Mark finally frees himself, pushing you off him, making you land on your back, and he’s immediately on top of you. He captures your lips in a kiss, tongue playing on your bottom lip, and then his lips travel further down once again. On your jaw, on your neck, on your chest, they leave fire traces on your sensitive skin, all covered in goosebumps thinking and anticipating how he’s going to finally make you feel after a day of basically ignoring you. 

You know Mark. He loves you to death, and he reminds you of this every single day. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you, even if sometimes he can be the prisoner of his own mind, in his own bubble, deeply lost in his thoughts as he reads or concentrates on something specific. 

He snatches his t-shirt off his back, tossing it next to you, “My turn now, baby,” He rasps, whiny tone gone, and his words almost make you shiver with anticipation at the warning and at the usage of the pet name. He kisses your abdomen, precise fingers sliding your drenched panties down your legs. 

He grabs your legs, fingers pushing into the plush of your thighs, finally reaching behind your knees to push your legs up, spreading them. 

You see him looking down for a moment, glasses almost foggy from all the panting you two did, but he stares at your core intently, and it only makes you whine as your core throbs around nothing. One look at his cock and you can see he’s still achingly hard, and you know it won’t take too long before he finally gives you want you want. You want to feel him inside of you, to stretch you out, make you feel full, make you feel good.

He finally bends down, hands still pushing your legs to keep them apart, and his tongue swirls a few time around your clit with steady motions. 

“Mark!” You moan his name, head tilted back as you feel his tongue carefully moving along your slit, nose bumping into your clit each time, and you swear you’re so turned on that he’ll make you cum from this alone.

But Mark is greedy, he wants you in all the possible ways right now, but he knows you don’t have much time. He wants to take his sweet time with you, pamper you, finally take care of you just the way you deserve to be taken care of — but maybe later, because right now, you’re both reaching a level of desperation that’s hard to control.

He lets your legs go, instructing you to plant the soles of your feet on his sturdy shoulders, and you do as he says. He grabs you by the hips, bringing you even closer to his face. His glasses are on, although they’re already in the way — you can’t see his pretty eyes while he eats you out, and he can’t see your pretty face reacting to what he’s doing to you. 

So you get up on your elbows, hand moving swiftly to snatch his glasses away from his face, and then you get his fringe out of the way, combing your fingers through his hair.

Your motions make Mark moan, and he brings his hand down, placing it under his chin, fingertips already tracing your entrance while his tongue plays with your clit. 

His fingers inside of you, getting them in and out of you and bringing you the delicious friction, and then curling them, all while his tongue laps at your clip and slit, it makes your thighs shake, insides burning as you can feel your orgasm bubbling rapidly inside of you.

You grab his hand, the one resting on your hip, and you pinch his fingers, trying to get his attention on you.

“Mark…” You moan out his name, and you try bringing your thighs together in order to stop him. But your boyfriend, being the same stubborn man in all situations, refuses to let you go, keeping your legs in place. “ ’s too much,” You whine, grabbing him while trying to squirm away form his face, “Not like this… please,” You plea, and you see him teasing your clit one last time with his tongue, before he gets up.

You’re lucky he’s hard as fuck right now, almost to the point it hurts, and that he really wants to be inside of you.

He kisses his way up your body, leaving kisses on your trembling thighs, on your lower tummy, on your chest, all the way up to your jaw and mouth. Mark loves worshiping you, there’s nothing he’d want more than taking his sweet time with you right now. But it gets to a point, and excitement creeps up his spine as he lines himself at your entrance with ease.

You can feel you’re a mess, still turnt on to the point your core is already throbbing desperately, waiting for Mark to slide inside of you with ease.

And when he does, you both let out an airy gasp at the feeling. He’s stretching you so deliciously, you’re so turned on that you don’t even need time to adjust to his size. Mark, on the other hand, doesn’t move. 

He pants, face in the crook of your neck, and he’s doing his best not to move. You can feel your walls throbbing around him, and you guess he’s the one who needs time to adapt to being inside of you right now.

He removes himself from your body, once again grabbing your legs and keeping them together, pushing them to your chest while he prepares to start moving inside of you. Mark’s a sentimental person, he likes emotional and physical connection — and he knows that three thrusts inside of you while he kept his head in the crook of your neck, and he was going to be done for.

Instead, he keeps your thighs together, bringing more pressure on your tummy and on your core, while he starts moving. 

He pants, droplets of sweat already forming on his chest and neck as he fight the urge to move too fast, because that would only make him finish on the spot.

The pressure becomes too much to handle almost immediately, and you claw at his forearms in order to ground yourself. You can’t help the moans escaping your lips, the friction bringing you a sort of relief, all while the pressure keeps growing in your lower tummy, making your insides melt.

With every thrust, you feel like you’re getting closer. With every thrust, you can’t control your moans and sounds, and the moment Mark’s thumb touches your clit it’s what makes the pressure finally explode inside of you. 

And feeling your walls squeezing him uncontrollably, Mark finally lets go of your legs, finally dropping down on top of your body as his hips keep moving in between yours, sliding in and out of you with ease. He can finally have you like he wanted in the first place, head in the crook of your neck, lips grazing your jaw, kissing your lips that are already plump from all the kissing and all the biting down on them. He pats your head, fingers combing through your locks as he tries to soothe you, knowing that he’s overstimulating you.

You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, squeezing him and bringing him even closer, and Mark stills for a moment, head falling on your shoulder as he starts moving his hips slower.

“Fuck,” He grunts in your ear, finally climaxing inside of you, and the whole thing sends goosebumps across your skin.

He kisses his way up from your neck, to your lips, but stays inside of you for a bit longer, and you squeal tiredly feeling his lips on you once again.

“You know what, baby,” He rasps, all tired, but the way he’s looking at you is just so loving and sparkly, and you bring him closer in order to kiss him again. “I’m thinking I should ignore you more often,” He finally sighs, getting off you, but still dragging you after him.

You find comfort in his embrace, head resting on his shoulder as your nose nuzzles the skin of his neck, and you can’t help but giggle at his remark.

Soon enough you were growing impatient, knowing at any moment family could knock at your door for some random inconvenience. With that said, you lifted the toy from your breast, lowering it down between your legs. It always took a moment for you to align the hole with your clit, eyes squinting as if trying to visualize the perfect angle.

But the moment you got it, the moment you felt those delicious vibrations right against your sensitive bud, you let out the softest moan, legs opening more as the pleasure grew.

Your finger pressed into the button, amping the power up to its second level, strong vibrations thrumming right against your clit. Your legs began to squeeze shut, hurried breaths falling from your lips as you began to etch closer to your orgasm.

You wanted to personally thank whoever thought of vibrators. As pathetic as that sounded..

Your head knocked back against your pillows, the tightening cord in your stomach nearly snapping when a familiar sound entered your ears.

“Babe, oh man— I gotta tell you what this gu—..”

In a flash you felt that pleasure melt from your body, your eyes peering open to spot your one and only Markus Grayson standing in your bedroom in all his glory. His glory being that godforsaken supersuit and the stupidest grin on his features.

Which only seemed to deepen the moment his eyes trailed down your body.

Curse you for forgetting to close and lock your window.

“What’s this?.. Having fun without me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, yelping as wind flew past you far too quickly. Mark was a blur for a moment before he stood still beside your bed, currently inspecting something in his hand.

You quickly realized that it was your vibrator, under his inspection.

“The fuck is this..”

“It’s—“ You moved to your knees, reaching out for it, only for him to hold his hand higher, cackling to himself. You gave an aggravated huff, hands dropping to your thighs.

“— a vibrator.. It’s a vibrator.” You murmured, trying to ignore the tinge of shame invading your form. Of course, the two of you have talked about masturbation, but toys were a different story. You’ve heard plenty of horror tales of men growing angry at their women for using them in the first place.

All that ego man stuff.. blah, blah, blah. And as much as you loved Mark, he was a man.. with a ridiculously big ego.

Your eyes slowly trailed up his body back to his face, watching the way an unrecognizable glint developed in his dark eyes. His gloved fingers tapped against the toy, fiddling with the settings, turning it off and on completely.

“A vibrator huh?..” Mark hummed, more to himself than you, gaze switching between the vibe and your features for a moment before a devious smirk pulled his lips.

Before you could think Mark was moving closer, using a hand to push you back onto the bed whilst the other went for your legs, tugging them open.

“Let me try.” The grin on his face deepened, reaching down with the toy towards your center. Clumsily, he forced the hole upon your swollen clit, eyes flicking back to your features as he amped up the vibrator.

Your hands clenched, lips parting once more to release a sharp moan. You weren’t alone anymore, released from the mercy of slowly building yourself up. No, Mark had selected one of the highest setting without a care, pressing it right against your already sensitive clit. Your legs threatened to close, hands falling to the bed and gripping your bedsheets tight.

“Ma—mark.. baby please— turn it down..” You whined out, gasping the moment you felt him twist the toy a little, the vibrations hitting your swollen bud at a different angle. Droplets of arousal trickled from your hole that fluttered around nothing, sliding down to your taint.

“Aww.. can someone not handle the little toy?” Mark mocked, twisting the little machine once again and giggling to himself at the high-pitched moans that escaped you. He rose himself high, face hovering close to your own whilst resting on a forearm.

“C’mon baby, you’ve had bigger! Don’t wimp out on me now.”

You couldn’t even dare to reply, far too focused on that band ready to snap in your stomach. Struggled gasps and moans continued to escape, as your legs tightened around his arm— as if trying to decide to push him away or keep him there.

Your decision was null the moment you came, hips rising into the air as you made a mess of his hand and your beloved toy. Your stomach ached, clit feeling raw from all the attention. Your body rested back onto your bed, attempting to calm yourself after your release.

Only to realize the vibrator was still stuck securely to your clit, not having moved an inch despite your orgasm.

You quickly back to fuss, reaching down at your partner’s wrist whilst a strangled, “Ma—mark, let me breathe..” escaped you.

But he didn’t budge, even pulling himself back to his haunches, keeping his one hand steady on the toy whilst the other went for your wrists, securing them into a tight single-handled hold right against your stomach.

“Oh, [Name], I’m not done. I wanna see what else this little thing can do.”

With two more presses, the vibrator was now thrumming at its highest setting, the sound of it on your sloppy cunt nearly echoing over your music— second to the whines and moans that you released.

Your mind was going blank, the pleasure teetering between bliss and pain in one fluid motion. Unlike the Viltrumite before you, you were only human— your stamina not being able to keep up at all. It was growing torturous the longer the toy played at your clit, yet you couldn’t escape. Even as you attempted to move your hands, Mark wasn’t budging an inch— nor was he fazed by the twitching of your legs, eyes so trained on your pussy he was currently tormenting.

It’s not as if Mark had an issue with you using the toy. Not at all, he found it quite amusing actually; you attempting to find pleasure in such a measly device— that couldn’t even began to compare to him at all. It was truly entertaining watching you struggle to keep yourself together, your moans and cries for mercy music to his ears after an already eventful day.

The man had things to share with you, like some idiot that tried to attack him from behind— however that could wait, until after he was satisfied with examining the limits of this little device.

“Such a fucking mess, you’re ruining my gloves, babe.” As cocky as ever, voice clear and loud so you could hear through the blur of your mind. You wanted to cuss at him, maybe tell him to fuck off and wipe that little smirk off his face. But you couldn’t— physically anyway, given any words were turning to jumbled mush that the man couldn’t make out.

Mark even had the nerve to tilt his head, pushing his ear a little closer towards you.

“Huh? What? You say something— I couldn’t hear it over all that moaning and whining of my name.”

If your hands were free you would smack him, but now you could only whine louder, trying your best at an annoyed pout, eyebrows clenched close together.

Mark quickly caught on, laughing to himself as he slowly moved the vibrator in circles on your clit, watching that anger dissolve from your face so quickly. Your eyes were glossy at this point, even rolling back to meet your skull as the pleasure thundered through your body.

And as quickly as it started, your second orgasm came even quicker; erupting from your body in shaky spasms. Your voice was etching on hoarse at this point, seeing white for a moment as you came undone so harshly it began to ache.

Your lover let out a boisterous sound, eyes trained on your messy cunt, your arousal trailing down to the bed, making a little pool of slick.

You panted heavily, struggling to keep your eyes open as they slowly lifted to Mark.

“Mark..” You were able to release, attempting to move your arms again, only to feel his hold tighten. You cried out, wiggling about in desperation.

“Ma—mark! Turn it off— fuck!” Tears of overstimulation were threatening to spill at this point, and in one swift motion you somehow were able to flip onto your stomach, scooting away from the man quickly.

Your face pressed against the bed for a moment, before turning to the side, releasing heavy breaths as your heart pounded against your chest. So focused on calming down, you couldn’t hear anything behind you at all.

Not the sound of Mark chuckling to himself.. his hands moving against his body, or even his clothes falling to your carpeted floor.

You hadn’t realized a thing until a familar hand was locking around your ankle, basically dragging you towards the edge of the bed and up onto your knees.

You rose to your hands, mouth open and ready to practically yell at him until you felt two things. His length prodding at your entrance, and that blasted toy finding your abused clit once again.

In one swift motion Mark was thrusting inside, leaving you unable to adjust with the vibrations buzzing against your swollen bud. Your hands nearly give out, nails digging into the fabric as tears began to stream down your chubby cheeks.

You could no longer form a single coherent sentence, voice switching between hurried gasps and a mush of his name, tangled with the loudest moans. Soon enough you felt his hips move, a bruising pace being set inside you, with little care for your overly sensitive pussy.

You felt Mark move, coming to rest his chest against your back whilst wrapping his arm around your body, leading his hand to gently grab your face— a completely contrast to how he has been ruining you for the past forty-five minutes.

“What a crybaby.. can’t even think straight can you, huh?” His lips pressed right up against your ear, hips flicking back and forth as he fucked you with no remorse. The corner of his mouth twitched, truly entertained by your reactions. The sweet wails you were releasing, the way your pussy clenched and clenched around his length, and how shaky your entire body was overall.

You sniffled and whined, hearing your love cooe as he slid his thumb over your skin. Once again, the only gentleness he’s shown you since he flew in.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? All this attention you’re getting, greedy little pussy..” Mark began to drill into you, now being the only thing keeping you sitting upright at this point. “Can barely handle me, yet you go out and buy this toy— isn’t that funny, baby? Hm?”

The man spoke to you so easily, fully expecting you to reply to the best of your ability. But you were only releasing whimpers, completely lost to the feeling that flipped between pain and pleasure.

Mark chuckled at this, pressing the toy just a bit harder against you.

“Guess you’re too fucked out to speak, huh?”

That was an understatement, truly. The word itself didn’t exactly describe how you felt. Your entire body was trembling, the two sensations of his dick and your toy eliminating any logical thinking inside your brain. You couldn’t care less about being too loud for your family or even neighbors, no, your entire focus collected into a single point, the orgasm that was rushing towards you extremely fast.

A mix of encouraging words and mockery was being purred right into your ear, followed by quick laughter with every cry you let out. Mark always enjoyed pushing your limits, especially in the bed room.

You were human, sure, but he didn’t care. He simply loved watching you struggle to keep up with anything he did, acting so cruelly only to praise you later on. A never ending cycle that he didn’t plan to change anytime soon.

“Clenching me like a fucking vice, you’re about to come aren’t you?” He questioned, fucking into you so deeply, his tip prodding against that spongy spot that caused stars to intrude your vision. The man listened to your whine, deciding to take it as approval to his previous question.

Mark grinned to himself, pulling back and allowing your body to land on the bed. Instead his free hand gripped your hip lifting you just enough to drill into that same spot perfectly.

“Go on then, come— soak the sheets while you’re at it.”

Your fingers dug into the bed, reduced to babbles as your sheets became soaked from your arousal, sweat, and tears. With blurry vision and muffled hearing you came undone, a prolonged bellow of his name escaping your aching throat. You jerked and jolted, making a mess of his cock and the bed beneath— just like he hoped.

The man’s hand smoothed across your ass, clearly soothing you as those sweet praises from his lips, continuing to chase his own orgasm. Moments passed before his hips stuttered, his load spilling into you, some trickling out from your stuffed hole.

You breathed heavily, feeling your body relax the moment the man pulled out and removed the still buzzing vibrator from your clit. You melted into the bed completely, caring less for the smell of sex and soaked blankets beneath you. Your legs trembled from the aftershocks, eyes closed as you attempted to catch your breath— and with that being your entire focus, you basically jumped out your skin the moment Mark’s hand fell to your thigh.

The man laughed, smoothing his fingers across your heated skin.

“Relax, I’ve finished my little test.. for now.”

“You’re..” You struggled to say, moving your head a little to glance back at your boyfriend. “— such a dick.”

The man grinned back at you, hands gliding up to your ass to grip whilst coming to hover over you, planting a kiss against your shoulder.