BY : JujYFru1T
Category: Celebrities - Misc > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 710
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction! I do not know Markiplier/Mark Fischbach or Ellie Goulding, and I do not profit from this fic.

More Gouldiplier smut :B On the one hand it's been pretty freeing to fling out a bunch of RPF I've been sitting on (hopefully I can be braver without the parameters of a fic challenge). On the other hand I'm noticing all the patterns in my smut writing and trying not to cringe. C'est la vie, no?

I wake with a start. The bedside clock reads 3AM.

I get out of bed on autopilot and stumble down the hall. Only once I'm standing in front of the bathroom door, wondering why I'm standing there, do I realize I don't even need the toilet. Of course I'd wake up for no reason the night before a gig...

I'm about to head back to bed when I notice the light under the door. That might have been embarrassing; I could have walked right in on--

I think I heard a voice.


I press my ear to the door. It sounds like...

...a moan?

I'm turning the doorknob before I realize it, walking right in. The shower light is on, the water is running, and--

"Uhnh, god..."

He is in there.


Well, fuck. He's never said my name like that before. A long moan emanates from the shower. Impulse compels me to peek behind the curtain, and what I see makes my heart jump into my throat.

Mark's sitting on the shower floor, palming his cock in quick, rough strokes. Except he's not quite sitting; he's braced his back against the shower wall and using his legs to lift his ass off the floor, the better to finger himself with his other hand. He's trembling and gasping, face flushed, eyes closed.

It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

"Oh, you gorgeous, perfect man."

"Ellie?! Oh, shit--" His eyes fly open, widening in shock as he sees me. He's frozen, the blush spreading down his neck. Then there's a flurry of movement as he disentangles himself, as he tries to get up.

"Mark, wait." The tidal wave of desire and need has finally crashed over me, and I know if I let him go now, I'll regret it. I remove my nightgown and toss it aside, pull back the curtain and step into the shower.

He's standing now, breathing shallow. "I-I-I'm sorry."

I'm shivering, from his gaze and the steam and my boldness and want. But I close the curtain and step toward him, place my hand against his cheek. "Why?" I whisper.

He casts his eyes downward. "I couldn't help myself."

Those four words almost make my legs give out. But I close the inches between us, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my body to his. "Please." A whimper slips out of me when his cock brushes my belly. "I want you, I want to help you, please…"

"Oh, god," he breathes. "Ellie."

We ease down onto the floor, under the spray. The hot water on my skin has me wilting against him, but his arms around my waist support me. The sharp moan he gives when I take his cock in my hand has me drenched down below in seconds, and the way he whines my name as my cunt slides onto him nearly makes me come right then.

"I've wanted you for so long," I say as I begin to ride him. "So badly, Mark."

"Oh, fuck, El--" His hands clutch at my shoulders, fingers digging into my skin. "You have no idea how much…" His voice trails into a long moan, and he pulls me closer to him, leaning his face into my neck.

Everything feels so real. His lips on my neck, how his cock fills me perfectly, the heat of his body and the water. But this has to be a dream, so what do I have to lose?

"I love you, Mark. And I'm not just saying it, I love you, truly, I--" I gasp, then groan as I grind down onto him and he holds me there, not letting me move. I can feel him throbbing, like his heartbeat is in my cunt, and I gasp for air while Mark keeps me still.

"Don't move, please," he murmurs against my jawline, tangling a hand in my hair. "I… I want to stay like this. Just for a bit." He rocks back, pulling me with him, and we both shudder. He puts his other arm around my back, and now we're as close as we can be, every inch of our bodies pressed together. I kiss him everywhere I can reach-- his neck, his collarbone, all over his face. When I kiss his mouth, the hand in my hair tightens, and I know instinctively what he's telling me: Stay. Be still.

I squeeze my arms around his back and keep my eyes closed, just feeling. I don't want to move ever again. Mark is warmth and safety, and I've never felt as small and secure as I do now.

The hand in my hair relaxes, falls to my shoulder. He pulls back just enough to speak, but his lips still brush mine. "I love you too… Elena." He smiles. And then he moves, thrusting his hips up toward mine, and his gasping moan of relief explodes across my mouth, and I groan his name as I move again too.

I keep my eyes open, watching his face as he slips deeper into pleasure, his brown eyes almost black with desire. My skin tingles, my cunt aches, and the only thing on my mind is racing toward that peak, climbing faster and faster. Mark's voice is all around me, changing with the rising sensation, and suddenly I'm coming.

"Mark, oh fuck, Mark…!"

His name is all I can manage as I shudder against him, clenching around him. He gasps, says my name like a sob, and then he's just moaning, over and over, clinging to me as I feel him spend in rush after rush of white-hot heat.

He falls back against the shower wall and I go with him.

For several minutes the water is the only sound, outside of the blood pounding in my head. Then—

"I… guess we should, uh…" He blinks down at me, smiling tentatively.


We separate gingerly, helping each other to stand, hardly able to stay from each other's arms.

"Do—do you want to wash, a bit?" I can't seem to speak more than a whisper.

He nods, blushing slightly. I find myself smiling. After everything we just did, he's feeling shy about washing up. But he gets the washcloth and soap and says, "Let me wash you," and now I'm blushing too.

Oh. Somehow that does seem too intimate. How silly…

His hands are so gentle I feel like crying as he soaps me up, moving the washcloth reverently over my tender skin. I shiver and lean back against him.

"All done," he murmurs into my ear, too soon. He passes the showerhead to me so I can rinse.

"Can I… wash you?" I ask, face heating.

Another nod, so I do, valiantly ignoring how he bites his lip for a moment. Then we rinse each other off again, and finally turn off the water and step out of the shower.

Toweling off turns into a laughter-fueled collaboration, with hair rubbing, a tug of war and a hug break. God, the way he smiles at me. I feel so happy I could burst.

We end up in my bedroom, seemingly in a blink. The room glows with moonlight, or maybe that's my eyes.  I don't want him to leave but can't figure out how to ask him to stay.

He solves it for me. "There's no way I'm letting you sleep alone tonight," he declares, kissing my forehead.

"I wasn't gonna let you sleep alone either, so there," I answer, beaming at him.

We walk hand-in-hand to my bed. "After you, love," I say.

He grins at my endearment and climbs in. I slide in, and he's got his arms around me before I even pull up the sheets.

"Thank you," he says, eyes bright.

 I kiss him. It's meant to be short, but he spurs it into long and lingering.

"Thank you," I say, when we part. I pull the sheets over us, then settle back into his arms, tucking mine against his chest.

 His face fills my vision until I fall asleep.

When I wake, the sun is streaming into my face. I sigh and stretch and roll over toward Mark, but find empty sheets instead. After putting my hair into a not-awful ponytail, I yawn my way into the kitchen to find him sitting at the counter, eggs, bacon and pancakes laid out on the table.

"Hi," he says, with a little wave. I must look as nonplussed as I feel, because he adds, "I was up pretty early. Couldn't sleep. And I felt like making breakfast, so… bon appetit!" He smiles, gesturing to the place he's set out for me.

"Uh, thank you," I say finally, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down.

"Want some coffee?"

I smile. "No thanks. I don't really need any this morning."

"Me neither. Weird, huh." He chuckles, then digs into his eggs.

I nibble at some bacon. It is weird. Not just not needing coffee; the whole situation seems odd. The reason why comes into my head around my first bite of pancakes, and I very nearly choke. Last night-- er, morning. The shower. I have a gig! Mark's got a livestream! We have to--

"Are you okay?" His voice pulls me out of my reverie.

I reach for my water glass and slug it down. "I'm fine. Got mixed up about what day it was for a moment." I look at him while I formulate my next words, maybe for a bit too long; he asks how I slept at the same time I ask if he has a livestream today. We laugh at our word pile-up, then he answers first.

"No, I don't. Why?"

"Just wondering," I say with a sheepish chuckle. "I must have dreamed it. I slept well, by the way."

Silences settles in while we finish breakfast and begin clearing the table. My mind is only half on the task at hand, since I'm trying to find a way to broach the subject of last night. It felt so real… I want it to be real. But it couldn't have been; there are too many logical inconsistencies. Besides, he's already told me he doesn't have a livestream scheduled, and I know I haven't got a gig until next month. There's one more question I can ask that will settle the matter… so why can't I spit it out?

I find my chance when the cleanup is finished. First I thank him for breakfast again, and he waves me off. I take the opening. "You didn't have the bright idea to take a shower at three in the morning, did you?" I keep my tone light and even manage a smile.

He laughs, shaking his head. "I didn't have that much trouble sleeping."

Oh, thank god.

But my relief is short-lived. "You must have dreamed--" He stops, pressing a hand to his mouth as color rises in his cheeks.

"Oh my god," he mutters. "Oh my god." He stares wide-eyed at me, blinking rapidly.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I ask gently, despite my pounding heart.

"I don't know." His voice is rough. He clears his throat, takes his hand away from his mouth. "If you're thinking we had sex in the shower last night? Then yes. Yes, you are."

I grab on to the counter, all air gone suddenly out of me. "Oh my god, Mark."

"Part of the reason I woke up early is because I had a wet dream and wanted to wash the sheets, okay?" The words are sudden, propelled swiftly from his mouth. "And—and fuck why did I say that."

"It was a dream, then," I say, almost to myself. "I found you in the shower, and you--"

"Yeah. I was… desperate. But Christ, it felt so good and goddamn I need to stop talking." He groans, hiding his face in his hands. "Bet you're real happy about letting me stay over now."

"But..." My gaze latches on to a spot on the counter and I squint, trying to think. "Sharing a dream? Any dream, not just-- it's not possible."

"Shouldn't be." His hands drop as and huffs out a laugh. "Dunno about you but as far as I'm concerned, that's way too mentally taxing to try to figure out over breakfast."

Abruptly I realize what else he said. "No, I am happy!"

He starts, raising one eyebrow.

"About you. Staying over," I mumble, feeling a flush coming on. "Besides, I couldn't sleep with renovations directly above my head any more than you could, so..."

I go back to my plate, so does he, and the rest of the meal is quiet. I'm nowhere closer to solving the dream thing and I'm relatively sure a headache is coming on over thinking on it, so I try to meditate while Mark and I pick up.

"Uh, Ellie?"

I look up from wiping down the counter; Mark's over by the dishwasher, plate in hand.

"About my neighbor renovating... Um." He clears his throat, put the plate in. "It's not one hundred percent true?"

I go back to drying, absently. "Okay," I say slowly.

He's got a bashful smile on his face now; if he's expecting me to be mad, I'll have to disappoint him. "Well, I mean, there is  stuff going on, just nothing that messes with my sleep. I kind of just..." One hand goes to the back of his neck, and he looks at me with his head bowed. "I wanted to stay with you and didn't know how to actually ask."

I feel like hiccuping rainbows. "I appreciate your honesty," and fail to keep a smile off my face, "and maybe I shouldn't be feeling like this but Mark, that's fucking adorable."

He snorts, shaking his head. "Um, excuse me, what?" He laughs (god I want to kiss him), grabs the last plate and shuts the dishwasher with finality. "Me, adorable? Ohoho, no, that's not happening! I have a reputation to uphold."

"Your reputation of being both adorable and devastatingly sexy, you mean." I punctuate the words with the paper towel in my hand before balling it up and aiming for the trash can.

"Ten ten," he says automatically, and then, "I'm sorry, are we talking about me or you now?"

I turn in seeming slow motion, making an inelegant question sound.

"Whoops there," he said lowly.

We stare at each other for what seems like an age. Then I somehow manage to speak first. "Well." I blow a lock of hair away from my face, then just give and undo the pony while I talk. "I still want to work on how the dream, er, thing, happened, but..."

"Looks like we've found the why." He waggles his eyebrows, getting a laugh. "Guess we have a lot of stuff to talk about, don't we."

"Guess so," I say airily, pulse thrumming. "I was thinking, though... my hair could use a wash. And maybe the rest of me." I breathe in, turning on my heel. "If you'd like to join me?"

I don't look back, because I know he'll follow.

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