Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Welcome to the story!

A few things!

MINORS DNI

The first chapter can be read as a one-shot!

This whole story is written in second-person pov, which means you can be Y/N!!! Yay!!!! I do name the FMC at one point, but that's solely so that Mark can moan an actual name. So, ignore at your convenience <3

All characters are over 18, even if it's not canonical lmaooooo.

Chapter Text

This was never supposed to happen. It was never supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be this… difficult.
Mark’s hands gripped the arms of his desk chair till they groaned, straining under his superhuman strength. It was quiet in his bedroom. A muscle flexed in his jaw, ticking.
His powers were supposed to be a boon. And they were. They made everything simpler.
Except when it came to you.

Here he was, desperately trying to finish his algebra homework on a school night. He was two assignments behind due to his… blossoming, as his mom had called it. So here he was, sweat beading above his brow and two pencils snapped before him. All because of his superhuman hearing that had picked up on you next door. Touching yourself.
You, his oldest friend and neighbor. Someone he grew up with and cared for deeply but had never—not once—thought of you like that. You were beautiful and amazing and a total steal, of course, but he just…Had never viewed you that way.

But it didn't matter, no, he had no choice, not with his sensitive hearing. He had no choice but to listen to the rustling of your legs against your covers, the soft, velvety stretch of your folds as your fingers pushed through them, and the squelch of your drenched cunt as you plunged another finger in, and then the light, airy whimper—
“Fuck,” Mark hissed, flinching as the metal arms of the chair snapped in two.
It was mind-bending to think of you, his girl best friend of 15 years, in your room, making yourself fall apart.
Even worse,
He could hear the porn you softly played on your phone. It was downright nasty. Mark had no idea you were into that kind of stuff.

Choking, impact play, degradation, AND praise? Among darker kinks… something tightened within him as he heard the pleas fall from the woman’s lips on your video.
“No, please—stop—”
And your broken moan with it.
Mark felt his mouth dry with a rush of heat to his groin. It was so intense, so debilitating, it knocked him to his feet.
Thoughts flooded his mind like a running sink with no stopper. His hardening erection, imagining the tentative grasp of your fingers around his cock, or—shit—the plump, pillowy pull of your lips.
A friend—you were just his friend—damn it.

Mark slammed his door open, not caring that the doorknob lodged itself into the wall. He had to leave—had to get out of his house—now.
Another gasp, your finger circling your clit and Mark choked on a breath, missing a step or two.
It didn't add up. He…he thought.… Mark thought you were a virgin? Yes, you'd had one boyfriend, but that was over two years ago. Mark was certain he had never touched you.
In fact, that’s what ended the relationship. Luke wanted to take it further, and you did not.
So who or what made you such a fucking freak?
It didn't matter, none of it mattered. He had to get out—

“Mark? Are you alright?”

The clear, crisp voice of his mother cut through the haze within his mind. Mark swallowed roughly, finally able to focus on anything but your mouth or fingers or your tight, dripping—
This wasn't you.
This wasn't him. He was level-headed, gentlemanly, let-you-cry-on-his-shoulder-when-Luke-dumped-you-with-maybe-a-sympathetic-pat-or-two Mark. Plus, he was low-key in it with Amber. Or was he? He couldn't remember where they were at right now. And it didn't fucking help when the only thing on his mind was diving in between your thighs and eating you till you begged him to stop. And maybe even beyond that.

“Mark.”

Another voice, this one louder. More demanding. Mark’s father.
Clearing his throat, Mark shook his head to clear his brain of you. Jesus Christ, he knew he was stressed and going through changes, but this was crazy.

“Yeah?” Mark responded, voice wobbling. Nolan eyed his son strangely, one bushy eyebrow quirking.

“Your mother asked if you were alright.”

Mark blinked, looking over his shoulder, finding his mother staring at him pointedly. More so, at the hand that was still latched onto the railing. The railing that was now splintering under his grip.

“Uh—erm, fine,” Mark stammered, looking from his mother to his father. Both were standing in the living room. “I uh, just need to run out really quickly.”

Mark's mother scoffed, throwing her hands upon her hips.

“But you have those assignments to get done!”

Shit. Right. The assignments.

“I just really need a break, Mom—I promise I’ll be back in like… 10 minutes?”

A particularly lewd moan cut through the walls like paper, sending a shiver down his spine. He bit his tongue, trying to keep from flushing.

“Make that 5?”

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Mark should've been somewhere in the Swiss Alps by now. He should've been in the exosphere. He should’ve been diving into the freaking arctic. Instead, he was floating just outside your window, eyes locked on you while you bucked against your hand, head thrown against your pillow in ecstasy. Darkness concealed him, the sun having set hours ago, and yet he couldn't care less about getting caught, his face nearly smushed against the window pane. He should've cared, though. He should have been a better man. He should've been states away at least…

But you had moaned his name. You, and your beautiful pouty mouth had whined his name while playing with your soaked cunt.
And, fuck, he could smell you now. Only eight or so feet away, he could smell the sweet wetness dripping down your thighs—his beautiful best friend of 15 years, whom he’d never given a second glance to.
You had his full attention now.

“Invincible,” you whined again, and Mark almost saw stars.

Maybe it wasn't quite his name, but fuck, it was close enough. Good enough. Great. God, he wanted you to cry it out while choking on his—
He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting every urge to bust through the window right then. He wanted to rip those blankets from you and shred the t-shirt you wore, exposing your naked body to him. Fuck, he wanted to worship you and commit the taste of your cunt to memory. He wanted to fold you under him and shove his cock deep, deep, deep within you until you could only breathe, think, and feel him. He wanted to claim you—no—ruin you. Take you over and over and over again until you knew you were his.

And you had no idea. Not a clue in that pretty little head that the man you were fucking yourself to was spying on you now. Imagining these oh so dirty things. Mark groaned, looking down at the tent in his pants.
He held his breath, weighing his options. He could fly away, dunk himself in the ocean, and never think of this again. He could get a grip and let fantasies stay as such. Or.
Mark swallowed slowly, eyes honing in on your peaked nipples rubbing against your t-shirt. He swore, low and nasty, as he undid his belt and dove into his boxers.
He withdrew his weeping cock, hard and angry, hissing as he ran his thumb over the tip. He bit back moan after moan as he fisted his cock, timing his pace to yours.

He watched you, knowing how wrong and nasty it was. He didn't care. He pumped his cock harder and faster as you arched your back further, those filthy noises pouring from your lips. Your face was flushed, hair sticking to your neck as you gasped. You tried so hard to keep yourself quiet, throwing a hand up to cover your mouth as you writhed. But you were a good girl. You kept quiet enough not to disturb your parents. But loud enough for Mark to bask in your raspy cries.

And all at once, you climaxed. Mark stilled in awe as he watched you convulsed in pleasure, your fingers fucking you through your orgasm. Your hips bucked against one hand, the other buried, gripping your pillow. You shoved your face into it, muffling your screams. Those perfect, cloaked shrieks. Mark felt his knees buckle as the pleasure shot up his spine, the coil in his stomach breaking. It was too much, and Mark found him stilling, a soft, broken noise spilling into his hand. Bliss filled him as he imagined himself spurting onto your stomach, or coating that pretty face, or deep into your pussy. He kept pumping himself until the last bit leaked from him, hissing quietly from the sweet overstimulation.

Chest heaving, he eyed you closely, seeing you in a different light for the first time.
His father had warned him once that upon puberty, he might notice some personality changes. Viltrumites had a tendency to grow possessive and obsessive. He hadn't believed it until now. He hadn't wanted to own Amber the way he wanted to own you fundamentally. And in that moment, staring at your crumpled and blissed-out form, he wanted to own every fucking part of you.
You couldn't have known what you started, and it honestly was most likely a pity it had to be you. But Mark had made up his mind. You would be his. You already were his.

Now it was simply time to make you realize it as well.

Chapter Text

The next morning was like a slap in the face. The worst bout of post-nut clarity known to the universe. He blamed it on being horny. He blamed it on pent-up aggression after fights. He blamed it on his break up, he hadn't fucked Amber in over a week. But still. Mark was beyond embarrassed and ashamed. It didn’t help that he peeped the cum stain he left on the corner of your window sill while getting ready that morning. He planned just to forget the whole thing and avoid you.

But fate had other plans, it seemed. And he had already knocked over the first of the dominoes.

Getting ready for school was a chore like no other. You, no matter how hard he tried, would not leave his mind. He blamed it on guilt. Like, really, how shitty of a guy was he to jerk off to you like that. He didn’t even really know you that well anymore—not that it made it okay—but still. It made it oh so much worse.
It was true you had been best friends, but recently, you both had grown a bit apart. This was mainly due to Mark’s new responsibilities but also due to… Amber.
Mark grimaced in shame.

He thought about reaching out to her earlier that morning, but something stopped him. He felt he needed to resolve whatever was between them simply because that was what he did with her. Resolve and start over.
But this morning?
He just… didn’t.

And it didn’t bother him like it used to. And it apparently didn’t bother Amber, as she didn’t text him at all that morning.
Mark waded through the day, his mind a bit fuzzy. But, strangely, it wasn’t guilt weighing him down, nor was it shame. It was… well, he didn’t really know? But he felt off, for sure. Like, he needed to be checking up on something? Like something needed his attention.

“Mark Grayson,” His Chemistry teacher called out during final period, snapping him back to reality.

What were they doing, again? Oh, right, assigning project partners. Mark nodded to the teacher before slightly zoning out again. That was, until, of course, the next name the teacher uttered. Mark froze, his heart still in his chest as he heard your name, which was loud and final.

“Savannah Fawn.”

Of fucking course. This was some cruel joke; a curve ball thrown by the universe to trip him up once again. The final bell ringing felt more like a death toll as the class began to dismiss, naturally meeting with their assigned partners. Which, cued,

“Hey, Mark!”

You stood before him, eyes soft and kind, with your books in your arms. Lifting your cleavage a bit. The same cleavage he saw just the night before, straining and poking through that thin tshirt—
Mark coughed, clearing the memory as he focused back in on your face: all clear today, no evidence of the raging flush it held from the previous night.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered incredulously to himself, a plea to get it together.

You blinked upon hearing him, and Mark realized he’d completely interrupted you.

“Um,” you muttered, amusement twinkling in your eyes along with confusion. “You okay, Mark?”

He was going insane, he decided. His name, spoken from your lips twice in the past two minutes, and he could feel himself swelling. You were just so… so… God, how hadn’t he seen you before?!
You were gorgeous and smart and funny… Your pretty eyes that lit up as you spoke to him. Eyes, he desperately wanted to see welled up with tears from him spanking your ass raw—

“The project, yeah,” Mark stuttered weakly, mind spiraling.

He didn’t even hear you as you began speaking again. He was doing everything in his power to keep himself and you grounded. It was nearly impossible, when there was an excellent desk behind you that he could force you over, and rip that god forsaken skirt right off of you and fuck you until your voice was hoarse from screaming.

Mark clenched his fists, desperately trying to calm himself. But he was failing and failing fast. Oh, god, he was gonna grab you and take you away and do awful things to you. His eyes fell to your pretty pink lips. And, fuck, you would love all those horrible things. He’d treat you gently, at first, knowing it was your first time. He'd make it so good for you. Hours he’d taste you and tease you, bringing you to the precipice before ripping your pleasure away. And then, only when you’d begged him with tear-stained cheeks, would he make you his. Hours upon hours, he’d bend you under him. It would be so stupidly easy to grab you and fly somewhere private.
Oh god, he had to get out of here.

“…And maybe we could meet up-“

“Gotta go,” Mark blurted before bolting out into the hall.

He didn’t look back, not as he left the school, not as he took off into the sky, not even as he crashed into his room with his cock already in his hand.
Mark made himself cum five times before he could think of anything else. He lay there, in his soaked sheets, staring up at the ceiling. And he knew, deep down.
He was so fucked.

Mark avoided you like the plague for the next two days. He ignored your texts and calls, which consisted of questions about the weird interaction coupled with “When were you two going to start working on the science project?”
Never.
He’d planned to meet with the chemistry teacher to see if there was any way to switch partners.
It was unfair to you, of course. You didn’t deserve this at all. You were such a fantastic girl, and truly one of his best friends. But Mark was sure you wouldn’t appreciate it if he lost control and marked your neck in hickies, pumping himself deep into you while you were just trying to figure out formulas.

He tried not to think of that. But even if he was successful in keeping his mind G-rated, he couldn’t stop thinking of you in general. He wondered where you might be or what you might be wearing. If you still took dance lessons. Did you still play softball? Had you gotten your license yet? Who was bringing you home?
Mark sighed. The thoughts always ended in one of two ways. With him visualizing you naked and under him or… filled with unbridled anger, that someone else might be trying to do the same.
He didn’t know where the jealousy came from, only that it was there and refused to go away. But it could all be controlled if he simply stayed away from you.
And, well, he did try.

“I understand it’s inconvenient and I apologize that I waited so long to come to you, but please, Mr.—”

“Mark, I'm sorry, but no,” Mr. Davis, the Chemistry teacher, interrupted briskly. Mark tensed, feeling the pit in his stomach grow. “You're a bright kid, and normally I would figure something out for you. But I feel less than inclined due to your consistent absences and lowering grades. Not to mention, I thought you and Miss Fawn were friends?”

“We are-”

“Then I see nothing else to discuss. You have less than one week until the due date. I suggest you both get started.”

Mark stood silent for a moment as his teacher disappeared down the hall. Well, fuck, there went that option. A few students passed him, but he was mainly alone in the hallway, leaving him all the room to stew and panic between classes.
He couldn't do it. He couldn't work with you on this project lest he succumb to his darkest desires. But, shit, he couldn't risk another F on a project or his mom would have his ass.
Even worse, his dad might say something to Cecil. If he got benched, just when he was starting to get the hang of his powers, he'd explode.

“Damn it,” he groaned, collapsing against one of the lockers behind him. “What am I going to do?”

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. His eyes were closed as he rested against the locker. It wasn't great, but at least he didn't have to worry about anything in this quiet moment.

“Mark.”

He released a deep breath, his brain laughing at him as he opened his eyes and saw you standing before him.
You were apprehensive, eyes wary, speaking his name with a slight bite in your tone. You stood well over three feet away from him, arms crossed over your chest. Guarded.
Mark hated it. His heart tugged at the sight, beginning to race in his ears. You were upset and upset with him.
When you realized he wouldn't say anything, you took a deep breath, hands coming to your sides in fists.

“Sierra told me you were asking Mr. Davis if you could get a different project partner?”

Mark bit his tongue, fighting the urge to hit himself.

“Sav, listen-”

“Have I done something?” you blurted out, voice warbling.

Mark froze as he watched tears gather in your eyes. “You’ve been distant for the past month. At first, I just assumed it was because of Amber. That you were caught up in her. Which, I guess, is fine. But you two broke up almost a week ago—she told me—and still, nothing. Then this project shit happens?! You don't answer my texts or calls, you avoid me like I'm some disease, and now, this? What did I do, Mark?” Your bottom lip had begun trembling. Mark felt his heart crack. “I just thought... I mean, we've been best friends for so long that I-"

“Im sorry, Sav, so sorry. It's true I've treated you horribly and it's absolutely inexcusable,” Mark began, determined to make those tears vanish. His words were brutal and honest and cut you to the core. “I've just been going through it with Amber, school, and life. But that's not fair to you. And, no, you haven't done anything at all. So, if you'll just let me make it up to you—”

Mark felt an overwhelming sense of resolve and determination flow through him. It was overwhelming, this need to make it right with you, and he couldn't stand it.

“Let's just work on the project tonight, okay? Your place or mine? I can even bring pizza.”

You blinked at him, obviously surprised by the quick change in attitude. A beat passed between you, with you eyeing Mark very closely before eventually shrugging your shoulders. He didn't answer your question exactly, but you were just happy that he was trying to amend things.

“I mean. Yeah, yeah, okay,” you decided quietly, nodding once. “Come over to mine around 6?”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds great!” Mark nodded back, smiling to reassure you.

You released an anguished laugh and mumbled something like “weirdo” to yourself before starting down the hall. Mark’s eyes followed you all the way, for some reason, tempted to follow you and make sure you got home safely. Well, that wasn't too bad, he thought. He managed to control himself and his thoughts around you. He could definitely do this! Yes, he just needed to grab pizza and keep a cool head while over at your place.
Mark skidded to a halt as his mind focused on those last two words.

Your place.
Your room. The place where he watched you--
Mark sighed, pressing the palm of his hand deep into his forehead, ignoring the rush of heat to his groin.

“This is gonna be a long night.”

It was. Actually, it was a long week. To be in your room, sitting in the spot where you’d made yourself see oblivion. Mark could barely control himself. But he did.
Even if he stumbled through his door, collapsing on his bed and making himself orgasm until exhaustion afterward.
But he made himself return the next night. Why? To force himself to get over this—you. You were his best friend and deserved to be treated as such. Plus, he really needed a good grade on the project. Plus, plus, he'd really missed you.

By Sunday night his dick was ready to fall off, but he'd developed a sort of tolerance to you. At least while you two were together.
Even if he could smell traces of your orgasm in your sheets. Even if he found himself constantly focused on your lips, imagining their taste. Even if he couldn't keep his eyes off your curves—when had you even gotten those, anyway?
Still, he didn't pounce on you like he really wanted to. It was bearable.

Key word was.

Chapter Text

Monday, 6:30 pm

6:30, shit, I'm late. 

Mark groaned as he left the scene, the GDA hauling some extraterrestrial monster away. Supposedly, the teen team was disposed, something about not working well together, and Eve had given up superhero-ing, and his dad was going through…something…so, it was left to him, which was acceptable and manageable. But he couldn't think. He couldn't concentrate. He rushed the fight and ended up scoring some pretty tough wounds. All because he was thinking of you. He was missing your study date, and it bothered him. 

You consumed his mind. What were you doing? How had your day been? Were you thinking of him? 

He'd barely wiped the blood from his face when he knocked on your door. 

With gentle eyes and smile lines, your mother beckoned him in instantly. She poured out soft words, 

So happy to see you, Mark.

How is your mother? And your father? 

I'm just so glad you and Sav are close again. 

You've no idea how much she's missed you. 

“Gee, thanks, Mom. Now I look like a creep,” you blushed, hopping down the last stair to the living room. You mumbled a quiet hey, before beckoning him up to your room. 

Mark released an uneasy laugh as he followed you up eagerly. No, no, you weren't the creepy one. 

You two had nearly finished the project, finalizing details of the presentation on your laptop. There you were, sprawled out on your belly while you typed away. Mark sat on your bed beside you, just behind your right shoulder. And he was fighting for his life, eyes glued to your thighs and ass in those barely-there shorts. 

He took a deep breath, your voice being lost in the recesses of his mind while he battled with himself. His hands twitched and he balled them into fists--anything to prevent him from reaching over and tearing those shorts into pieces. 

What kind of underwear were you wearing? 

Mark rolled his shoulders back, trying to focus. 

Were you even wearing underwear? 

Mark shifted as his trousers grew uncomfortable, biting down on his tongue. 

“Ah, shit,” you hissed, suddenly, hopping up. Mark blinked and whipped his head around to make it seem as if he was doing anything but staring at your backside. “I gotta go help my mom really quickly. I told her I’d fix her computer after our study sesh, but you got here pretty late—which is fine. I'll be right back.” 

He held his breath until the door clicked closed, releasing a loud exhale. Mark dropped to his stomach, face in his palms, as he tried to force sense into himself. But, fuck , the smell of you was downright near irresistible. Mark bit back a groan as he let his face fall to your comforter, drinking in the remnants of your arousal hidden within the fibers. 

It was maddening, and soon Mark found himself slowly pressing his hips into the comforter. It was harmless, right? He deserved this, right? He’d kept his composure around you for a week; he could reward himself with this. Plus, he could hear you below him. He knew when you’d come back. Plus, plus, he couldn't fucking stop—it felt so good. 

Slowly, oh so slowly, he rutted against your bed. He imagined it was you, whining and mewling under him, your sweet cunt swallowing his cock. You were seemingly so innocent, and he dreamed of absolutely corrupting you—all the while your parents sat ignorant one floor below—until you were ruined entirely and enraptured with him. 

A particularly rough thrust brought Mark back to reality, with the sound of your bed scraping against the floor paired with your laptop clattering to the floor, shocking him. 

Mark blinked, icy shame flitting through him as he clambered up and scooted your bed back. Straightening his sweatshirt, he reached for your laptop, trying to cool his flushed skin, when something caught his eye. 

A folder had been opened from the commotion, and while it looked like it should’ve been locked, recent use and neglect had left it open.

Curiosity truly got the better of him as he inspected the encrypted folder. 

Marks mouth ran dry as he scrolled through link after link of porn, smut, and sub-reddits. The URLs alone hinted at filthy, filthy stuff. He could only imagine what the videos held. Gnawing on his lip, he ensured you were still busy downstairs before clicking on one. 

It started off tame: a young girl cleaning her home. She was in tiny shorts that barely covered anything, but she was still innocent enough. And then, Mark felt his spine tingle as the video showed a man climbing in through a cracked window. 

His eyes widened as he watched the girl be grabbed by the man and forced to the ground. Mark let a moan slip through his lips as he lightly palmed the tent in his pants. 

You were a fucking freak . And you were a virgin . 

Mark let his head fall back as he dove into his pants, video forgotten. Visions of you filled his mind. What would you’d do if he swooped down there and grabbed you suddenly? How would you like it if he ripped those shorts off of you and forced you face down against the floor? How hard would you squeeze him as he fucked you senseless, right there in your living room. Or what if he found somewhere to keep you—to hide you from the world—and take what he wanted from you whenever he wanted. Make you his hidden reward for saving Earth? Make sure you couldn't be grabbed and used by anyone else. 

Mark’s breath hitched. There it was . He didn't want you to be touched or corrupted by anyone else. You were his—to worship and fuck and hide and keep and own—

“Shit,” Mark gasped, pumping up and down harshly. He let the floodgates open, imagining you in every position he could bend you in. You were his, you were all his, he repeated softly over and over. He'd been denying it for nearly two weeks—but here, in your room, he'd let go of that control. He growled softly, eyes frantically searching around the room until he glanced down. There, just peeking out from underneath your bed. A flash of pink. 

You were downstairs, typing away, oblivious. Here he was, one floor above, moaning helplessly into a pair of your panties he found as he thrusted up into his fist. 

A sweat broke out on his temple. Mark whimpered, snapping his hips up faster. He was close—fuck he was going to come. He was gonna come all in your pretty pink panties— Shit . He was gonna come in your panties and make you wear th—

A creak. 

Mark froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. He blinked, spine straightening. And there it was again, the creak of your stairs. You were on your way back. He blinked again, his hand slowing but not stopping. He needed to stop and fix his pants and your laptop—

Your footsteps sounded just a few paces away. 

Mark’s thumb brushed over his tip, a muffled groan falling from his lips. He rolled his eyes, bucking up into his hand. 

Your door knob began to twist. 

“Sorry, that took longer than I thought it would. My mom had a billion tabs… Open.” 

Your voice trailed off as you glanced around the room, finding no one. Brows furrowed, you racked your brain. There’s no way Mark would’ve left. Right? 

Just then, an airy, ragged moan sounded from your laptop's busted speakers. Your blood ran cold as you instantly locked in on the open device, your pulse stuttering as you found it not where you left it. 

Turned to the side, just out of your view, you felt dread creep up your spine. Your feet seemed to move on their own, leading you to your doom. Leaning down, you tipped the screen back. Your worst fear had indeed come true as you watched the saved video play out before you, your secret folder open and on display. 

“No, god, please ,” you whined, knees weak, as you watched the robber restrain the woman in the video. Your pulse now raced in your ears as you imagined Mark’s face as he found your shameful secret. 

A slight breeze swept behind you, kissing your bare legs, accompanied by the soft click of your door shutting. Your heart stopped completely as you felt a presence looming behind you. Mark’s breath fell upon your neck slowly, warmly. You felt your stomach flip. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why was he still here? To your horror, the video continues to play before the both of you, your eyes painfully locked onto the way the woman was absolutely defiled on the floor. A shaky breath filled your lungs, and your back brushed against Mark’s chest. He was so close . A strange, sick sort of heat filled you, staring from the place Mark’s breath ghosted over you and ending between your thighs. He said nothing—did nothing—as the video continued. It was as if he was observing you—truly observing—for the first time. You should’ve stopped it. You should’ve backed away and run for your life out of embarrassment. But you couldn’t. Mark’s large, overwhelming frame blocked you in, giving you no space to get away. So much so that the tops of your thighs gently scraped against the edge of your comforter. Plus… you weren’t sure you wanted to leave. And that was the most shameful admission of all. 

You wondered what it would be like if Mark spread you right here, shoving your laptop aside, and made you fall apart under his fingers. How would it feel to have his hand covering your mouth as he—

You blinked, swaying a bit in shock. No, no, this was batshit crazy. Shame filled you once more as you quickly raised your hand to shut your laptop. Instead, however, you found strong fingers grasping your wrist. You swallowed a gasp as Mark gently pulled your arm back to your side, letting the video continue. Tears began to well up in your eyes. Was he mocking you? Did he find this amusing? Holy shit—

Your thoughts were silenced as his chest pressed against your back, his nose falling into the crook of your neck… A rush of adrenaline coursed through you as you felt the strain of him against your backside. Large and thick and throbbing. Mark’s lips were quivering, his grip on your wrist tight, as if he was holding himself back. And then he spoke, low and raspy and sinful.

“Is this what you like, Sav?” Your vision blurred. “You wanna be manhandled and fucked rough?”

Your breath whooshed from you from the vulgarity of his words. Your fantasies were one thing. But you were still a virgin. It was so different to hear such dirty things spoken about in real life. It made your thighs squeeze together. He was teasing you. And it was working. You desperately fought for some semblance of control. Mark only took your silence as a challenge. His free hand trailed up your front, wrapping lightly around your throat. You sucked in a ragged breath as he pulled you against him. God, when had Mark become all muscle? Stiff, aching, hot muscle—

“You want these things done to you?” He whispered in your ear, his thumb rubbing up and down the column of your throat. You shut your eyes tightly, the warmth in your core doubling.

“No,” You hissed through gritted teeth. Mark’s smile pressed into your skin, his hand finally releasing your wrist. It slowly trailed along your hip bone down to your thigh. He let his fingers dance over your skin lightly before swooping inward. You bucked against him, a gasp escaping you as he swept back up your thigh, narrowly dodging that part of you. He settled at the top of your mons pubis, the pads of his middle and ring finger slowly massaging there. You were going insane, eyes rolling back in your head from this touch alone. Fire skated up your spine, your core pulsing. A small part of your brain reminded you that you should’ve told him to stop. It was indecent, wrong, and god, it felt so good. Mark raised his head, resting it against your temple. 

“Try again, Savvy.”

You nearly moaned at his order. You realized he was quite content spending the rest of the time teasing you. But you? You were going to explode if he did not touch you properly.

“Yes, yes, please,” You mewled, giving in. Mark rewarded you instantly, slipping a finger between your folds over your shorts and pressing on that bundle of nerves. You cursed loudly, jerking against his touch as stars danced across your vision. Mark chuckled huskily, tutting against your ear, 

“Quiet, sweet girl, your mom is still downstairs.”

You nodded quickly, biting down on your lip harshly as he continued to play with you. 

Mark reveled in the way you submitted yourself to him, in the way your body responded to every little touch. You were perfect—no, beyond perfect—and he would make you all his. He was gonna bend you over your bed and make you forget everything and everyone but him. 

“Mark,” You moaned, and it was like heaven. He hummed as a response, circling your clit as if it were his life’s mission. “Do you wanna apply for the internship downtown with me?” 

Mark moaned before freezing. Your words finally registered in his brain. What? The fuck did that have to do with—

Blinking again, Mark was thrust into reality, where you were leaning over your desk. Rifling through papers, with your laptop closed on the table. Not under his hold. Not with his fingers pressing in your clit. Not with your mouth begging him to take you. 

“W-what?” Mark choked out, shock grasping him by the brain. Had he just imagined all of that? Glancing down, mind spinning, he found his pants rebuckled. When had he tucked himself away? And when did he wipe and close your laptop? 

You asked him about the damn internship for who knew what again, but Mark felt himself slipping. Not only was he beyond confused how he could slip into a fantasy like that, but with the way his cock was still achingly hard…He had probably five minutes max before he enacted that fantasy on you here and now. His vision began tunneling, and he felt the world begin to tilt. All of his senses zeroed in on you, you, you, you . Your smell, the featherlight breaths falling from your lips, the sound of your heart racing--

Mark blinked, finding himself staring down at you, the back of your head brushing his nose. You were intoxicating--

And suddenly, a gasp was slipping from your pouty lips as you whipped around to find your best friend all but pressing you into your desk. 

“...Mark?”

His eyes fluttered a bit at the sound of your voice. You peered up at him, nothing but innocence and intrigue. Your chest heaved, brushing against his. Pupils the size of the moon--and yet, he could see something pull you back to reality. 

“How’s Amber?” You whispered, voice shaking, and Mark almost smiled. Ever his moral girl, you were. 

“Broke up, remember? It was for the better. ‘Specially now,” Mark whispered, voice husky.

“Now?” You all but whined, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Fuuuuck.

And for the sake of all humanity and things that were good, he needed to get himself out of your room.

Mark balled his hands into fists, fighting every primal urge known to man and Viltrumite, before gritting his teeth. 

“Close your eyes, Sav.”

Your heart pounded in his ear, vein popping in the arch of your pretty neck. God, he wanted to mark you there. He could smell your sweet arousal drifting from between your thighs. And you listened, sweet girl you were, fluffy lashes fluttering closed. 

But instead of Mark's lips pressing against yours, all you felt was a soft breeze. Blinking, you found your room empty once more. Releasing a frustrated sigh, you slumped against your desk. To say you were disappointed was an understatement. But nothing seemed to be simple when it came to Mark Grayson. And by now, it was the new norm for Mark to just... Disappear.

You fiddled for your phone, before stopping. If he needed to leave in such a hurry, then it wasn't wise for you to immediately call him. Huffing, you pushed yourself off to shut your window, although you couldn't remember when you opened it. 

Maybe you’d text him. Later. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. 

What you didn’t know, is that Mark was seven states over, angrily fucking his fist while imagining ruining that soft brown mascara you wore. 

He swore he could outlast it--swore it’d get better. You deserved better, and so he’d be better. It would all be fine in no time--you both would just be friends and everything would go back to normal. 

Boy, was he wrong.