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morallyinept · 4 months

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CHRISTMAS COOKIES - A Marcus Moreno Christmas One Shot

Summary: You and Marcus get creative with some left over icing, after he spends the morning baking Christmas cookies with Missy.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. Although, Reader has hair long enough to be brushed aside/over shoulder. Images just for aesthetic, no reference to Reader.)

Word Count: 4.3k

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Established relationship/oral both M & F receiving/food porn/competency kink

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Baking cookies with Marcus?? Yes please!🍪 There's a tiny bit of Marcus Spanish, but you can Google it. Reader doesn't understand it so I wanted to keep it authentic by not providing translations.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“Morning, you. I made some Nog.” Marcus smiles.

Those perky lips of his twitch into a full blown beam as he winks at you from behind the dark frames of his glasses playfully.

He puts the hot tray down on the counter and picks up a mug and hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you say, smelling clean and hopefully looking not too dishevelled.

“Dad and I are making Christmas cookies,” Missy says with a toothy grin at you.

“I can see that,” you grin back at the state of the kitchen early in the morning.

"Watch it, kiddo. They're hot!" Marcus instructs his daughter as she eagerly helps scoop them off the tray.

“Try it.” Marcus coaxes you, when he sees you staring at him with wide eyes and possibly a mouth the size of a swirling black hole - and getting bigger and wider by the second.

Rows and rows of snowflake shaped cookies are on cooling racks on every visible space on the counter tops that you can see.

Utterly stunned and bewildered, you’re unable to take your eyes off him as he scurries around the kitchen, familiar with where everything is from muscle memory, juggling bowls and utensils through his thick fingers.

You turn the mug up to your lips and almost pass out. It’s your favourite; nutmeg and chocolate flavourings laced within the strong, punchy Nog. And it tastes incredible. It leaves a Noggy moustache around your top lip.

“Oh my God! That’s so good.” You exclaim, looking at him in astonishment.

Marcus places a plate down in front of you. He’s even managed to make you some breakfast.

He simply pads up to you and runs his thumb slowly across your lip, wiping away the remnants and sucks his thumb whilst his eyes stare into you with a cheeky, burning glint.

It makes your whole reproductive system whine desperately at you.

“You spoil me.” You smirk, taking the cutlery from him he’s already holding out to you as he stirs a bowl beside him with a whisk.

“I like to look after my girls.” He says with flushed cheeks.

Smiling, you tuck into the eggs and crispy bacon. He twists the piping bag up after he fills it and proceeds to frost a batch of cookies on the counter top, which has already cooled. Missy then tops them with candied silver balls.

They work in tandem; precise, unspoken teamwork as they chatter and laugh together. You smile as you watch him finish icing the rest of them; all the while his eyes keep flicking up to you, and you remember that same look in them from last night, running them over your naked body.

Marcus bites his lip as he concentrates; a nub of icing has somehow managed to work its way across his right cheek, just above that dimple, and he clearly has no idea it’s there - and what it’s doing to you.

You feel your tongue begin to throb, sucking on it hastily inside your mouth and wanting nothing more than to walk on over there and lick it off his face crazily.

“La abuela está aquí.” Marcus says to Missy as he wipes his hands down on a dishtowel after checking his watch.

A knock, and then the sound of the back door in the kitchen opening to the cooing sounds of an older woman with a walking cane entering, stirs your heated reverie.

They converse in Spanish as you stand to greet the woman looking over at you with twinkly eyes and a beaming smile.

“So pretty,” she cups Marcus’ face approvingly and she takes your hand and pats it gently as you say hello tentatively.

“Mamá. Por favor deje de.” He’s all a blur as he simultaneously hands Missy her scarf and fishes out some bills from his wallet to hand to his mother. But she refuses.

“You’re not paying for your own Christmas gift, Dad.” Missy corrects him as both of them stare him down into submission.

“Alright, smartass.” Marcus grins much to the dismay of his mother who sighs and berates him in Spanish for cussing in front of his daughter.

Missy reaches up to give him a kiss and so does his mother, and he finally ushers them out of the door and turns to face you, his back resting against it and breathes out in some relief.

You chuckle. “I still can’t get over all this.” You say.

“What?” His features pull into a mild panic.

“This. All of this. You.” You say, your eyes scanning around the organised chaos of the kitchen and the sight of the lounge in the corner of your eye decorated like Santa’s Grotto.

Christmas garlands are draped over the mantle, complete with two stockings hanging above it; both Marcus’ and Missy’s names are stitched onto the front of them delicately.

The Christmas tree has grown in height and width, seemingly overnight - you don’t recall it being that big when you stumbled in giggling with him in the early hours - and is covered with candy canes and twinkling lights in all the Christmas colours.

Underneath there are presents galore stacked up in little cluster’s and tied in pretty, neat bows. It’s like stepping into all your childhood Christmases - the nostalgia, the romance, completely flooring you.

And then there's him, handsome with dark eyes. Muscular in his black t-shirt and looking at you as though he's hungry.

“I thought guys like you only existed in superhero movies.” You say, flippantly.

“Funny you should mention that,” Marcus simpers at you and you smirk.

“You definitely had some super powers last night.” You say, as he pushes forward from the door towards you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm…” you nod as he reaches you. You reach your finger up and scoop the nub of icing off his cheek and suck it into your mouth.

He blushes as he leans in, hands on your hips as you stay seated on the stool, and kisses you gently.

“It wasn’t too much, this morning?” He presses, tentatively.

He doesn't want to scare you off, you can sense it. Doesn’t want to come on too strong. But the fact you just inadvertently met his mother and his daughter, both in the same morning and both incredibly briefly, pulls at his gut.

He wanted it to be different. But he couldn’t resist holding you in his arms all night either. Whimpering for you to stay, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drove deeper into you.

Grunting into your ear about how good you felt, how he wanted to come so deep inside of you, and he did after what felt like hours of him pulling orgasms out of you first, with fingertips that crackled and buzzed all over your nerve endings.

It’s only your fifth date with Marcus, and you already feel that pull; that magnetism between you that becomes more solid the more time you spend with him.

Learning about him and his secret talents. He was upfront with you over dinner on your first date, that he had a young daughter and was widowed. He still wears his wedding ring and you don’t feel threatened by it. Instead, it comforts you to know that this man is a man that can love hard and forever. And one that is incredibly adept and resilient.

You shake your head. “No. I really like this side of you. Competency kink activated.”

Marcus blushes behind his spectacles and you smile.

There’s so much he wants to tell you, to reveal to you. You’ve no idea that he really is a superhero, and that his hands can do so much more than leave you gasping and panting his name into his bedroom walls.

And there’s so much more that he wants to hear about you too. You’re only beginning to scrape the surface off, but it feels so right regardless.

He feels right.

“I’ll help you clean up.” You say gathering your plate.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” You give him a peck and shimmy over to the sink. He watches you go wondering how the heck he got so lucky.

He reaches for the piping bag of icing and there’s still loads of it left in the bowl too.

“What should we do with this, it’ll be a shame to just waste it?” You say.

“I could make more cookies.” He suggests, and then looks at you as you look at him and it’s apparent to you, that you both just had the same, illicit thought rearrange the wiring in your brains.

The same thought, that quickly turns to reality, where you’re dipping your fingers into the bowl and bringing them, smeared with the white icing, up to his lips.

Marcus doesn’t hesitate to open and suck them into his mouth and groans with delight. You watch, enthralled as his tongue slips between your digits as he cleans the icing completely from them.

“Tastes good.” He sighs.

“Yeah? Let me try.”

He does the same for you with his own fingers, but as you lean forward to catch it, it plops down your front.

Chuckling, you go to wipe it away, but he stops; his fingers twisting inside of your own, sticky and wet, and relishing the feel of his thumb rubbing against your skin.

You both glance at your intertwined fingers; smooth and slightly adhesive in their stickiness, neither one of you pulling away.

Marcus leans in closer into your intimate space; those brown planets of his penetrating into you. “I’ll get it…”

He bends forward and his tongue makes sweet contact with your skin, sending shivers immediately bleeding out of it.

Your nipples come alive with electricity as it snaps and crackles around you. He licks it away; sucking it out of the fabric of your shirt that’s resting on the top of your bare breasts, which he’d noticed the moment you had sat down at the breakfast bar, and his pants had felt a size smaller ever since.

You couldn't help it, you couldn't actually find your bra when you dressed, searching for it. Deducing that it was probably stuffed down the side of the bed somewhere. All you remembered was him unclasping it and sucking your nipples into his mouth as you writhed on top of him.

Marcus runs his tongue up your clavicle and collarbone, stopping when the milky, sweet remnants of the icing is gone.

“Tastes really good,” he confirms, lingering just inches in front of your face. You can smell the sweetness on his breath; feel the warmth of it on your face and see your wanton reflection back inside his lenses.

He snaps his head back, reaching for the bowl and spoons out another blob, although this time he takes it in his own mouth, much to your dismay.

The way he fucks.

But then Marcus leans forward and simply presses his lips to yours, dribbling the icing all over them as you’re taken back by his carnal boldness.

Something you know he possesses under the somewhat nerdish outer shell he presents. It’s in the way he moves, the way he kisses.

You can feel it pooling in the corners of your mouth; the cool, velvety texture as it begins sliding over your lips and down your cheeks.

“So sticky.” He muses with a brilliant grin.

Marcus hoists you up onto the counter top easily, muscles straining around his biceps. Your legs now dangle off the edge of it and he parts them, standing in between. His immense hardness presses into the inside of your thigh and it feels marvellous.

You remember it, still feel the ache of him from being buried deep inside you for the first time last night.

He licks the icing off of your cheeks and chin, taking his time in cleaning you up, eyes crinkling around a subtle smirk.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” you tease.

“I am. Hard not to when you’re delicious.”

He then darts his tongue into your mouth. The taste of him; the taste of the icing makes your head spin in a syrupy mess.

He claws for the bowl once more, and this time dunks all his fingers inside it, bringing them up to your face dripping with sugary goodness.

He inserts them slowly into your mouth, but not before rubbing them over your lips in a way that would make the Devil himself blush.

You suck them clean, all the while holding his eyes; those gorgeous chocolate eyes that drink you all in. He bites down on his plump bottom lip, watching as his fingers swirl around your tongue and begins to fuck your mouth slowly with them as you suck on them eagerly.

“Does that taste good?” Marcus questions, through clenched teeth.

You nod as you suck his index and middle deeply like they’re his cock, popping out of your lips like a lollipop. He feels it wiggle inside his boxers and you can feel it throb against your thigh.

He looks down at your shirt collar; the damp patch from the previous dollop spilt there like an unfurled rosebud. He strips his fingers fully from your mouth; a luscious blend of silkiness and slight tackiness envelopes them.

He slowly begins to unbutton your shirt, but you stop him; clasping it together preventing him from going any further.

“What if they come back?” You say with a brewing grin.

He shakes his head. “Trust me, Missy is shopping with my mom. They won’t be back for hours.” He reassures and you drop your hands as he continues to unbutton.

It’s agonisingly sweet, and as he opens it, your bare, supple breasts greet him, and Marcus audibly groans. Pert, with swollen areolas, looking like a juicy and inviting meal for him to gorge upon to his heart’s content. You rest backwards on your palms and they perk up further for him.

He runs his tongue all across your breasts, licking up the icing and leaving a sticky residue of both his saliva and the icing cooling on your skin.

He picks up the bowl and pours the icing down the middle of your chest and you can feel it running; making that slow, sweet journey towards your navel.

He reaches a nipple and takes it fully into his mouth; the hard, perky bud of it tasting sweeter than the cookies he’s iced. You can feel it dripping down your stomach and it begins pooling at the waistband of your jeans.

After he’s done a delicious and sinful number on your breasts; each one having their fair turn with his attention, Marcus runs his tongue down the track in the centre of them, looking up at you with those bewitching browns.

You run your hand through his hair, ruffling it up and tugging at the roots inside your grip. He pulls your hips further to the edge of the counter top and slides his tongue across your skin just above your waistband.

“I do.” You agree with hooded eyes as his fingers linger on your button.

“I know you taste better than this,” Marcus says, licking his lips.

You pulse as you recall his face between your legs last night, expertly eating you out as you clawed at the sheets.

You raise your ass off the counter top momentarily as he tugs off your jeans revealing you in a black thong. The same one he took off with his teeth only hours ago.

He rolls off your socks; bending down so his nose just brushes past the apex of your thighs, the heat emanating from it and the smell of your sex driving him wild.

He tosses your fuzzy socks over his shoulder casually; one lands inside the sink and you giggle.

Marcus picks up your foot and presses his lips to the side of it, all the while watching you. You have to remind yourself to keep breathing as he kisses up the entire length of your leg.

You lay back on the counter top as he stands; resting upright on your elbows as he hooks his thumbs inside the thong and pulls it off slowly.

He stuffs it inside his pants pocket with a wicked glint inside his eyes. “Mine now,” he grins.

Your pussy is glistening at him and it smells incredibly inviting. The stickiness of the icing has stuck to your skin right above it and that’s where Marcus starts. Kissing you right there, his chin inches from your clit.

His smooches are light and give you goose pimples again. The anticipation of when he will brush against your opening makes you utterly mad.

He runs his tongue around the outside of your mound, all around the skin inside your legs, parting them further to reach inside the crevices. Prolonging the agony before he’ll glide that warm tongue of his all inside your gooey folds.

His head is seen buried in between your legs and unable to escape the view of him no matter where you look.

“Mmm…” You groan, throwing your head back.

You catch your reflection in the chrome pots and pans hanging above the counter top; dangling above your head bearing witness to this incredibly tantalising deed.

It’s shiny with your slick and he bears down on it with his mouth, sending your legs into a frenzied twitch as he gorges.

His tongue finally finds you, darting into the puddle of your sopping core and out again; slipping all over you and lapping you up like a starving dog craving raw meat.

It makes you pant as he spreads your folds open with his sticky fingers, revealing that pert nub of your clit on show to him.

“Oh... God!” You hiss.

“You taste so sweet, querida.” He purrs around your pussy looking up at you, his eyes framed by the thick, black rim of his glasses that get knocked slightly askew as he pushes his mouth onto your cunt.

He dives in for more; flicking his tongue back and forth over your swollen bundle of nerves. He suckles hard on it, sending you buck wild. Spread wide open before him, you look down to see his eyes meeting yours whilst he licks and sucks.

He reaches his fingers up towards your mouth, still clamped on that sweet spot; his cheekbones flexing from sucking on you hard, and slides them inside your mouth. They taste sticky and sweet from the icing remnants still on them.

You bite down on them gently and see his eyes twitch, driving you further into the walls of insanity.

“M-marcus, I’m gonna come…” You utter, his fingers slipping out of your mouth and fondling your breast; pinching your nipple between his fingers as your legs shudder uncontrollably.

You want nothing more than to press them together, unable to handle it anymore and deny what he’s doing to you; how he’s unwinding you so. It’s too much... too intense - fuck, it’s too-

You begin squirming; the feeling beginning to spew out of your pussy where he drinks like he’s parched from you. Your clit buzzes and ricochets under his lips and tongue as he intensifies on you, swirling quicker, sucking that nub harder.

“Oh, don’t stop! Marcus!” You pant, throwing your head back more and arching your back as the feeling begins drowning and pulling you under, twisting you from the inside out.

And he never wants to stop, never wants to stop hearing you moan for him and gasping his name like this.

“Marcus!” You cry out as you release into his waiting mouth, and he swallows the saccharine juices pooling around that sweet cunt of yours.

He rises, his lips shiny with you and licks them frantically like a man possessed. Not wanting to miss any trace of you.

You look up at him, legs still spread wide and eyes like you’re on some kind of drug binge; high as a kite, soaring in the euphoria of the blast that zapped out of your body.

His glasses are smeared with you, a clear gloss across one of his lenses and he smirks as he takes them off.

Marcus then begins frantically pulling his t-shirt over his head; staring you down with an intense hunger as you sit upright under your shaky arms.

He unbuckles his belt once he’s dropped the t-shirt to the floor, revealing those toned abs that shape above the small swell of his tummy, and tanned skin you’d glimpsed before; the perfect dad-bod.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Marcus asks in a voice that drips gold honey, as he unzips his pants.

The coil of dark hair around his belly button draws you in, screaming out at you to lick it.

You slide off the counter top.

You simply smirk and pick up the bowl and approach him.

“I’m hungry.” You reply.

He feels you stroke the firm trunk of his swollen cock as you reach inside his boxers. You run your hand around in there whilst slowly tipping the icing down his chest and he shudders.

He pushes his slacks and boxers to the floor, stepping out of them whilst your hand clamps around his thick shaft, pumping him.

He grips onto your ass cheeks, pulling you into him as the icing slides down his torso between you both; coating your breasts and smooshing it against you both, squelching.

Marcus whines, as he watches you take his icing covered cock inside your mouth and suck up and down the length of him; the icing pooling in the corners and dripping down your chin, pelting your breasts.

You lick his chest and run your tongue down the length of his body, all the way down until your eyes are level with his bulging cock inside your hand.

You simply take the bowl and dunk him inside of it and he hisses out between his teeth, jaw clenched.

“Oh, mierda. You’re so good at that.” He mewls, arching backwards; his hands thrown over his head completely beside himself at the feel of you sucking him off in the middle of his kitchen, which is easily a chef's wet dream.

You work his shaft, running your hand up and down, pumping him as you suck deeper and harder. He can feel himself expanding inside your mouth; the feeling amazingly rampant on his dick.

“Oh God.” He growls as he feels your mouth constrict around him. You release him and take him deep again and he begins to clutch the back of your head, greedy for your divine deep throating.

“Take me all in,” Marcus pleads, watching as you swallow him deeper, feeling him at the back of your throat. Feeling like he’s as deep as he can go without choking you.

But you continue to take him further; all the way down until your lips make contact with the base of him and your nose is pressed into the soft fat of his groin.

He’s gasping; his legs feeling like they could collapse under him at any given moment as you suck him deeper, over and over again. When he feels like he can’t take anymore, you do it again.

Of all the times he had glanced that pretty mouth of yours, he’d never once imagined it could do this and do it so incredibly well.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard after this…” He breathes, losing all his sweet, polite composure as you continue with your momentum, settling into a steady, deep rhythm around his cock.

He feels you giggle; the vibrations of your hum against him feels wondrous. It makes his brain explode, feeling your hunger for it - for him.

Marcus is grabbing at your hair now; winding it around his fist tightly and controlling your depth with his arm, bringing you back to the base of his cock and on tip toes almost as he flexes and rolls his hips into your face as he fucks it.

He feels your hands clamp onto his buttocks and your nails begin to dig into him.

“That’s it… like that. Oh, I’m gonna come!” He whines, feeling himself begin to bubble.

He yelps out in garbled Spanish, as he begins to buckle; his legs spasming as he pumps that creamy foam into your willing mouth and you swallow it down, deep down; savouring his salty taste, cutting through the cloying of the sweet icing.

He pulls out of your mouth; his come and the lingering sweetness mixing together inside of it, creating a pleasing cocktail that you would willingly drink forever from him with eager enthusiasm.

Marcus marvels at you, helping you up onto your feet and kissing you instantly; his body subtly trembling as he floats back down to planet Earth.

He can taste a faint descry of him on your lips and it makes his cock twitch in satisfaction.

“Well, that was unexpected.” He confirms as you pull apart.

“Mmm, tasty too.�� You smile as he kisses you.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he says, pushing your hair over your shoulder.

“Why, because I just gave you the best head ever?" You smirk.

He nods, considering it. “That, sure, and the fact you’re beautiful. And that you want me. And all this… mess.” He says, waving around the kitchen, but you know what he really means as you watch him blush again.

“I think I’m always going to want you, Marcus.” You confirm, your skin sticking to his as he wraps his arms across your lower back.

“Good, because I think I’m going to always want you too, querida.”

He nuzzles his nose against yours before you kiss him, tasting remnants of sweet icing as he holds you closer against him.

Marcus surveys the kitchen; your clothes in sticky heaps. The counter top flooded with icing. It’s a fucking wonderland of edible kink he never wants to leave. Although he’s dreading the clean up.

“What was that you said about kink earlier?” He queries.

“Why, do you think you’ve discovered a new one?” You say, reading his mind.

“Most definitely.” He nods, licking his lips.

“Food kink activated.” You say, punching the air.

You run your hands over his chest, smirking and he feels clammy and sticky to the touch, much like you do.

“Shower?” Marcus murmurs, kissing your shoulder.

“Mmm, sounds delicious.” You smile latching onto his lips again.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno we can be heroes #pedro pascal #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno x femamel reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fluff #pedro pascal characters #christmas stories #jett's writing

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mooncknight · 1 year

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To the dearest, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal. 🫠❤️

Now playing: Wild Child by The Black Keys.

1K notes · View notes

nicolethered · 7 months

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Pedro as Marcus Moreno in We Can Be Heroes (2020)

#pedro pascal #marcus moreno #we can be heroes #boyd holbrook

238 notes · View notes

flightlessangelwings · 7 months

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Ktober 2023 Day 8- Cockwarming

Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Word count- 1k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), softness, established relationship, no use of y/n

Notes- I miss writing for sweet himbo Marcus!! I can't believe it's been since last October when I wrote for him!! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

The morning sun hit your eyes and you let out a soft groan. You weren’t ready to face the day yet, not when you were so comfortable in bed. In Marcus’ bed. In his arms. You smiled to yourself as you let your eyes gently close and savored the feeling of his strong arms around you, holding you close and safe.

Nothing separated your bodies as you laid together under the sheets. Marcus’ body heat was all the warmth you needed as you both fell asleep tangled up in each other. Safe and comfortable and completely disconnected from the rest of the world, you never wanted to leave his bed.

Marcus groaned softly as he too started to wake. He mumbled your name in a sleep-ladened voice as he placed a series of light kisses along your shoulders and your back. Anywhere he could reach with his skin, Marcus kissed, worshiping your body in the morning sun.

“Marcus,” you breathed.

“Morning, baby,” he murmured between kisses.

He worked his way up your shoulders and to your neck, playfully nibbling and biting all the spots he knew were sensitive. You let out a stifled giggle as you bit your lip and craned your neck to allow him better access. Marcus hummed in approval as he ran his tingle along the taut muscle of your neck, eliciting a moan from you.

“Fuck,” you sighed as you leaned your body into him.

Marcus snaked his arms around your body to caress your chest, kneading and squeezing you to pull even louder moans. He groaned as he bucked his hips against your ass so you could feel his hardening cock against your body.

The two of you were alone in the house; Missy was away at a training camp for the rest of the week, so you could stay in bed as long as you wanted. And you both could be as loud as you wanted without fear of her hearing your bedroom activities. You absolutely adored Marcus’ daughter, but at the same time you were grateful for the alone time you got to spend with him while she was away.

He groaned your name as he wrapped his arms around your body and one hand trailed along your front to cup at your groin. You moaned loudly as he worked you between your legs, making you feel so good. Marcus was always good with his hands, and he could play your body like an instrument, and pull the most beautiful sounds to his ears from you.

“I need you, sweetheart,” Marcus murmured into your ear as his skilled hands fondled you.

“You have me, Marcus,” you whispered back as you turned your neck and took his lips with your own.

He moaned into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. It was slow yet passionate, and full of feeling. You rocked your hips in time with his hands as you started a new rhythm with him. Every time you backed up, your ass grazed against his cock, and you made sure to rub yourself against him.

Heat rose between your bodies as you both became more desperate for the other. Breaking away for a deep breath, you rolled yourself around to face him. Marcus looked at you with those big, dark eyes that you could never deny, and he reached out and cupped your face in a tender moment. You leaned in as you both breathed the other’s name before kissing him once more.

As your tongue danced with his, you shifted yourself so that you straddled Marcus’ waist. His hands never left your sides as he helped guide you while never breaking away from the kiss. It had just been since last night that he was inside you, but you both needed it again regardless.

You rocked your hips along his length, pulling low moans and hisses from Marcus as he broke the kiss to let out a cry of pleasure. He sighed your name as he looked up at you with a glossed over expression. His hands roamed all over your body, caressing your sides as if he tried to memorize every inch of your skin.

“Sweetheart…” he murmured.

“I know,” you whispered.

Slowly, you positioned yourself on his cock and lowered yourself down. Both of you gasped as his cock pushed past your first ring of muscle and entered your body inch by inch. Still wet from the night before and mixed with your need for him, you took his cock easily even first thing in the morning.

When your hips met his, you collapsed forward and laid down on his chest, and Marcus immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight. You felt his heart pounding in his chest as you ran your hand across his bare skin. This time, it was your turn to kiss wherever you could reach, and you felt Marcus let out a soft laugh as you tickled his skin.

“You feel so good, baby,” he purred as he caressed your back, his fingers trailing along your spine.

“So do you, baby,” you murmured as you contently closed your eyes.

Marcus loved to be inside you; he craved it every moment of the day when he wasn't. And now that he was, he felt like he was in heaven. He kissed the side of your head as he adjusted himself slightly so you both were comfortable. Neither of you wanted to move anytime soon, not when you laid connected together like this. And you had no plans or responsibilities for the day, so you were free to stay as long as you wanted.

“Did I ever tell you how amazing you are?” Marcus asked in a hushed voice, careful not to disturb the comfortable quiet that fell over the room.

“You just did,” you quipped back with a soft laugh.

“Well, you are,” Marcus joined your laughter as he kissed you again and tightened his grip on you, “I love you, baby.” He closed his eyes, ready to settle in like his as long as you would stay on top of him. His harden cock stayed buried deep inside you, but he didn’t feel the need to fuck you just yet. Right now, he just wanted to savor the feeling of you around him. He could always fuck you later, and this afternoon, and tonight, and tomorrow, and forever.

You hummed as you smiled against his skin and your eyes fluttered shut as well, “I love you too, Marcus.”

It was a long time before the two of you finally moved.

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wardenparker · 1 year

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What Happens in Vegas, part 1

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 8k Warnings: Mentions of partner death and divorce, smatterings of imagery of drunk sex. Technically most of this could be considered dubcon for drunkenness. Summary: A high school reunion in Las Vegas sounds great right? A fun, adult way to catch up with old friends and have a great party in the process. But everything goes a little sideways when you wake up the next morning in bed with someone unexpected. Notes: Part one of two! Marcus Moreno was absolutely a drama geek in high school and I will not be taking criticism.

Your eyes shoot open, and you sit straight up in bed. A mistake if there ever was one. Pain starbursts behind your eyes and you immediately pinch them shut again with a hiss. Shuffling slightly to cradle your pounding head, you moan as you hunch over. Not remembering much past the night before and having no clue on how you ended up in a bed. There's a grunt beside you, making your eyes shoot open again, but this time you don't try to resist the pain. You had definitely not come to your reunion with someone, so the idea of someone else in your bed is terrifying at best. One-night stands and being surprised by your bedmate the next morning had died in college during your walk of shame days. He's turned towards you, eyes closed, and face relaxed in sleep. One that you would have known anywhere, even if you hadn't tried keeping up with him through the years. You realize your own nakedness when you see his bare chest, gasping and yanking the sheets up over your breasts.

You’re in bed with your high school sweetheart, Marcus Moreno.

That place between sleep and awake is Marcus's favourite. It holds no worries and beautified reality, making touches feel like floating and sounds muffle as though they were coming through a wall of fluffy blankets. There is warmth beside him and beating down from his other side, vaguely registering in his sleepy mind as warm morning sun. He would have wafted through this half-feeling until he fell back to sleep, but he felt a jolt beside him and heard a yelping sound. Those were definitely not things from his dreams. Nor was the instant pounding that took over his head, making the previously comfortable sun feel like a jackhammer instead.

Marcus groans, rubbing his eyes as he gropes around for his glasses and slowly starts to string thoughts together: a bed, with someone else in it, in the morning, and he definitely has a hangover. He groans again, pained this time, and wonders what the hell he had gotten himself into. Vegas is a hell of a place to wake up with someone he doesn't know, and he briefly wonders if he had done something stupid last night. Once his glasses are shoved on his face and he can unglue his eyelids, he forces himself to look over.

Oh shit. It’s you. His high school sweetheart. What the hell happened last night??

"Mar– Marcus?" You stammer, your eyes widening, and you do an internal assessment of your body. Oh, you had definitely had sex. The ache between your legs is one that you hadn't experienced in a while but is consistent with a very vigorous night. You pull your hands down from your head and twist to look at him, hating that you don't remember what the hell had happened. The last thing you remembered was the slideshow at the event center. Nostalgia rampant and the bar open, while the graduating class went through the Most Like To list. Seeing everyone and sharing drinks had apparently caught up with you. "What happened?"

It's not until he sees you gripping the sheets to your body that he looks down – and realizes he's completely naked. Letting out a yelp of his own, Marcus pulls the comforter around him and then immediately cradles his aching head. The more conscious he gets, the worse it hurts. "Um..." Think, Moreno, think! But thinking hurts so much. "I'm not sure." He confesses. "I mean...we, uh..." his eyes are wide, looking between the two of you with embarrassed guilt. His core and thighs burn a little, and there is a faint taste of something tangy in his mouth along with stale beer. "I think we..." He sighs. "We definitely had sex..."

You hate how his sleep rough voice affects you. Low and gravely, it makes your core clench, and you feel the remnants of that observation between your thighs, sticky and thick. "Yeah, uh – I agree with that." You shouldn't be this embarrassed by that fact. It wasn't like you hadn't had sex with Marcus before. Hell, he was the first person you had sex with in your life. Sixteen and thinking you were going to be with him forever. "I–" Something catches your eye when you go to rub your head again, making you stop and flip your hand over, staring in horror at your left hand. A ring sitting on your ring finger, something that definitely wasn't there before this morning. "Did we– did we get married?" You manage.

"No!" Marcus is absolutely sure that that couldn't have happened, but his throat runs dry all the same. Slowly, he lifts up his own left hand where a shiny gold ring of his own gleams in the sun. "Or...maybe yes?" He tries not to focus on how good you look. Hair mussed and eyes a little droopy from having just woken up. He hasn't seen you like this in almost twenty years. Goddamn you look good. "I'm sorry," his face contorts in embarrassment. "I honestly don't remember much. Just the slide show at the reunion and then...nothing."

"Oh my God." You tug the sheets off of the bed, barely letting Marcus keep himself decent while you jump up. "No, there's no way. I mean, we just–" You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying not to freak out. "It's got to be some kind of joke." You remember Susan Combs, now Susan Ramey, talking about how the two of you were single, that you should rekindle the spark. Your eyes meeting Marcus's embarrassed gaze as the two of you stood awkwardly between her. "It's a joke." You tell him firmly, trying to convince yourself of it more than anything. How do you marry someone you haven't seen in nineteen years since he broke up with you when he met the woman he would marry his freshman year in college?

"Definitely." Marcus agrees. It had to be a joke. The thing that definitely wasn't a joke was the strong interest his cock had in the fact that one of the most gorgeous women he'd ever known in his life was standing in front of him wearing only a sheet. Not the time, he thinks to himself sternly. "There's...uh, there's some kind of brunch or something today, right?" He vaguely remembers it on the itinerary for their high school reunion, a chance for everybody to bemoan their hangovers together and say goodbye before people started catching their flights home. "I'm sure whoever's idea this was will be there to lord it over us." He hopes that, anyway. Hopes that it was some dumb joke from one of the other drama club guys or somebody who thought it would be funny to embarrass the hell out of the leader of the Heroics.

He looks around, not quite sure where to begin. "Do you...are my clothes over there?"

You look around and find his clothes mixed with yours on the floor, obviously stripped off together. You ignore that and lean down, tossing him his pants and not noticing that your panties are stuck in one of the pants legs where they had been dragged off your body. "I–fuck, I need a shower." You look at the clock and your eyes widen. "You do too." You hiss, noticing you don't have much time. "We can, I guess we are going to have to share a bathroom." You bite your lip, and try to suppress interest in seeing him as a fully grown man instead of a nineteen-year-old boy.

Marcus blanches for a second, wondering if you mean showering together, but he convinces himself that you can't possibly. This whole thing is too insane to really understand and what he needs most in the world is to wash up and brush his teeth. As much as his body might be interested in finding out how well you've grown up, that would be completely inappropriate given the circumstances. "You take the shower," he offers, ever the gentleman. "I can just wash up quickly and brush my teeth. Stale beer isn't a great taste."

Your face burns, a flash of him looking up at you from in between your legs pops into your mind. “No– uh, there is a shower and a tub, you take the shower and I’ll– we’re both adults and it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before.” You reason. You hate how flustered you are, how intensely you just want to go back to sleep and pretend this is just a dream. “Or do whatever.” You add, looking towards the other door. “The sooner we figure out this is a joke, the sooner we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Right.” He wiggles into his boxers, stuck inside his pants in a way that said they were definitely pulled off together, under the covers and slips out of the bed to head toward the shower. You’re right, of course. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen each other naked, even before whatever happened last night. “S’dumb,” he mumbles. “Somebody decided it would be funny to put rings on us?” Pulling open the bathroom door revealed that this was your hotel room - bottles of sweet smelling soap and shampoo alongside a few bits of makeup and your deodorant and a hairbrush. Looks like he’ll be doing a walk of shame this morning.

Turning on the water for the shower, he turns shy again. You’re right. You’ve seen him naked. There’s no reason to hide from you. But that doesn’t stop him from turning away from you to take off his boxers before drawing back the shower curtain to hop in. He could live with you seeing his bare ass. He didn’t want you knowing he was sporting a semi from the faint memory of having his lips wrapped around your nipples a few hours ago.

You follow him into the bathroom, the sheet from the bed firmly anchored under your arm. Sighing when he closes the curtain behind him. Marcus Moreno. You lean over and turn on the water to the tub and plug the drain. You could admit to yourself that you hoped to catch his eye, if nothing but to show him exactly what he could have had if he hadn’t dumped you. Petty, you know, but still with the vindictiveness of someone scorned.

Not that he had been mean to you about it. No, Marcus had been distraught, admitting that he was falling for the girl in his Psych class when he had come home for fall break. The one that he would go on to marry and have his daughter with. From what you had heard, he mourned for a long time following the accident that had taken her from her family. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, he had just found the love of his life, and it wasn’t you.

Marcus groans under the hot water of the shower, leaning his forehead on the cool tile to try to ease the headache that was still splitting his skull in half. What a stupid ass situation. He’d been so excited to see you last night, still with that twinge of guilt but excited nonetheless. He’d started seeing your name in magazines here and there, your career really taking off, and he’d wanted to hear all about it from you instead of via a reporter. He’d kept his face still when you mentioned your divorce in passing. Told you a little about Missy and been grateful when you didn’t get starry eyed about him being a Heroic. His mother’s instinct to send him to a regular school had been a good one.

It happened by accident. When he turned to shove his lathered-up hair under the shower head, he’d caught the outline of your body lying back in the tub and choked on his reaction. God you’re gorgeous. Even more than you had been back then. Vision a little blurry without his glasses, he can still make out the rise of your breasts above the water and admire the line of your leg sticking out above the tub when you have started to wash up. Marcus’s throat runs dry and he wills himself to keep control. The shower curtain obviously let shadows through, and he doesn’t want to be disrespectful. He’d loved you once - so much - and doesn’t want you to think he’d grown up to be a creep, staring at you in the bath.

You try to clean up quickly, but the hot water eases the pain. Closing your eyes and trying to not listen to the sounds of Marcus in his shower. It was so surreal, being here in this situation. You couldn't deny that you had thought about him over the years. He had been your first love, honestly the first man that you thought you were going to marry, although life had other plans. The entire class had thought so too, yours and Marcus's picture flashed up on the screen together: the two of you at prom together. You both had been voted most likely to get married. Something that you had both awkwardly laughed over, and you had ordered another drink.

“I’m – uh, I’m done.” He hates the way his voice waivers, but he had no goddamn idea how to handle this. He shuts off the water and reaches blindly out to the shelf beside it where he’d seen towels to wrap one around his waist. He draws the curtain back slowly, giving you fair warning to cover up, and swallows down the urge to jam his glasses onto his face and get a decent look at you. You aren’t... together. Whatever had happened, it was the product of drinking and a potentially bad joke.

"Okay." You stand and reach for your own towel, stepping out onto the mat and securing it around your body before you turn to the curtain. "You can– I'm decent." You offer, not bothering to worry about the water that is dripping down your legs. "I'll go into the bedroom to get dressed." You tell him. "You can– fuck it, use my toothbrush. It's not like we didn't kiss." You offer before fleeing the room so you don't do something stupid, like drop your towel and see how he reacts.

It only takes a few minutes to get ready, and Marcus is in his day-old clothes opening the door for you when you decide it’s time to head downstairs. He’s not sure he’ll ever be ready to face your former classmates, but he needs to know what happened. In the elevator, he discovers he’s nervously spinning the ring on his hand and looks down at yours again, seeing an expensive-looking wedding set, engagement ring and wedding band that lock together into an impressive piece of jewelry on your finger. It was the sort of thing he wanted to get you, back then. Dreamed of making his money young and being able to give you the world. Things changed when he’d met Missy’s mother, and he’d hated himself for hurting you even though he was so happy. “It’s nice,” he says, breaking the silence. “The rings. They’re...beautiful, actually.”

You jump, surprised that he had mentioned it before you look down at your hand. "It is." You admit, admiring it for a moment before your eyes find his. Looking away just as quickly. "Hopefully I– you, hopefully you can get your money back if you paid for it." You tell him quietly, knowing that if this was not a joke, it was definitely something he viewed as a mistake. "They look expensive."

He shrugs, looking down at his own ring. “Keep it.” He smiles sheepishly. “I gave it to you, I guess? So that makes it yours.” Over the last few years he had wondered what life would be like if he had stayed with you: if he’d still have Missy and if you’d get that cat you’d always wanted. If you still loved the snow. “You can remember what happened afterward, even if we can’t remember last night.”

You sigh, looking over at the man you are wondering if you had married in a drunken frenzy last night. You bite your lip, another flashback of last night coming to you. Riding him and having him kiss up your chest before he pulls your nipple into his mouth. You shake your head, banishing the memory just as the elevator arrives on the ground floor where the brunch was located. "No, I can't. You didn't want to marry me then, and you didn't want to marry me now." You tell him before you step out of the elevator and start walking off, not looking back.

“Shit.” He rushes after you, wanting to soothe your obvious and understandable irritation, but you have strode into the brunch room with your head held high. Strong as iron, just like you’d always been. When the crowd of your classmates sees you come into view there is an explosion of whooping and hollering, and just as much applause. His old friend Tim claps him on the back while he laughs.

Your heart plummets at the clapping and cheers. It's not a joke. You married Marcus last night. Susan rushes over to you, enveloping you in a tight hug and squealing loud enough that it hurts your ears over the rest of the noise. "Oh my God! I can't believe it!" She prattles, pulling away and grabbing your hand to gush over the ring. "I take full credit of course! It was all my idea and look!" She turns and points to the large screen where the projector is rolling and you gasp. There is video of you and Marcus, standing in a chapel in front of, of all things, an Elvis impersonator. Great, not only had you drunkenly gotten married to a man you hadn't seen in nearly twenty years, but you had gotten married by Elvis in Las Vegas. One big walking cliche.

“Oh my god...” Marcus feels his jaw hit the floor and his heart starts pounding, a stark reminder of the flash of a memory he has of being heart-poundingly excited standing in front of you in that ridiculous chapel. Had this really happened? He scrubs one hand down his face as his other unconsciously moves to hover over the small of your back, protective but not touching. You are in this together, after all.

“I guess...it happened...” he breathes, right next to you. He can��t believe these assholes took video of it, but he supposes at least now you could know what actually happened.

On screen, Marcus watches himself grin at you and you grin back. You look happy. Excited even. You must have been so damn drunk – you had been so angry with him for so long after he broke up with you and he didn’t blame you for it. He could remember the heartbroken look on your face as you had sternly asked him to leave your house, choking back tears. It was so different from how you looked on that video. Up there, you looked as happy as the day he’d asked you out.

You school your face into one that everyone else would believe is happy. Wanting to look away from the video, instead you watch, fascinated as you and Marcus giddily exchange vows, unable to keep from kissing each other between vows like saps. "A toast to the happy couple!" You groan quietly and your stomach rolls at the thought of alcohol as flutes of champagne are brought over to you and Marcus. Unable to do more than accept them, you turn and face the man who was now apparently your husband.

“Hair of the dog,” Marcus whispers, trying for a reassuring smile. He tries not to throw up as soon as the champagne hits his throat, but he’s determined not to embarrass you any further by looking as mortified as he feels. Watching himself kiss you, he can distinctly remember the perfect way your lips had wrapped around his cock, tongue teasing the veins as you looked up at him with big, innocent eyes.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” He asks in your ear, glancing over at an alcove nearby.

You finish the champagne despite it sloshing in your stomach and threatening to come up, then nod and hand your glass off to someone to follow him off to a secluded area. You swallow back some bile, hating that phrase. Remembering how he had resisted kissing you so many years ago and asked that same question before he broke up with you. "Yeah?" You ask, tensing for bad news and wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I’m starting to...” Marcus clears his throat, that glass of champagne not having helped at all. Hair of the dog his ass. “I’m starting to remember things.” He searches your face for a reaction but gets none. You look like a deer in headlights. “Um,” he exhales, eyes pinching closed for a second before opening again. He feels so guilty. Like he shouldn’t have these memories, despite the fact that you were the first person he did absolutely anything sexual with. “The sex.” He forces himself to say it. “Specifically, I’m starting to remember us having sex.”

You huff. "Yes, I'm fully aware we had sex, Marcus." You roll your eyes. "I'm the one that woke up with cum crusted on the inside of my thighs." Marcus flushes and his eyes dart down to your thighs. You were starting to get flashbacks of it as well, but it seems like he is remembering more than you did. "What's your–" You break off, your tone hostile and you don't want to take your mistakes out on him. "Okay, do you remember something you think I should know?"

“I know you’re mad,” Marcus’s head drops to his chest and he sighs. “We did something stupid and you have every right to be mad. But,” he glances up, hoping your eyes aren’t burning a hole in his head. “I made the first move, so...this is on me.” He can remember it clearly now. The two of you tipsy, having a fairly serious discussion about what happened back then, and he had kissed you. Apologized for hurting you. Told you how much he had been thinking about you lately, with the reunion coming up it had super charged his memories of you. “I kissed you first. And I’m pretty sure I was the first one to get clothes off. And I’m definitely the one who...went down on the other one first.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously. “So if you’re going to be mad about anything.” He shrugs. Now that he can remember it, that kiss felt amazing. That first press of your lips together after nineteen years and the way you had moaned against him when he opened his mouth for you to lick inside. “Be mad at me, I guess.” He can’t help himself, his eyes flick up to your lips, wavering there before looking back up at you. Now that he can remember it, he’s aching to do it again.

"I'm not...mad, I'm disappointed." You admit, looking away from him. "It's not like I hadn't– I wanted to just..." You shrug, suddenly feeling foolish. "I wanted to show you up, prove that you had missed out on something great. And now this is something that is going to cause you embarrassment." You close your eyes and sway slightly, your cunt clenching when you remember his tongue against your clit, moaning into you as he eagerly ate you out. "Stupid, huh? To still be petty about being dumped for the one you were supposed to be with." You swallow, meeting his gaze again and not being able to tell what he was thinking. "I'm sorry. I'll – I'll just go."

“Don’t!” He reaches out to grab your arm as soon as you turn, not too hard but enough to pull you back to him. “You did show me what I missed. And...from what I can remember, it was great.” You’re standing so close to him that he feels like he’s breathing down your neck and he has no idea if you’re okay with it or not, even though it’s stirring his cock back to life. “I don’t regret the years I had with Missy’s mother. She was a wonderful woman, and I loved her. If I hadn’t had her, I wouldn’t have Missy, but,” he huffs a sigh, his hand slipping up your arm to drag his knuckles down your cheek gently. “I loved you, too. I’m not embarrassed that we had sex. Please don’t think that, okay? I’m embarrassed that this is the way it happened. You deserve better.” He squeezes his eyes closed again, gearing himself up for you to snap at him again. “And, for the record? Everyone knows disappointed is worse than mad.”

You can't help but chuckle at that, relaxing at his speech. You didn't blame him, not really. The rejection had been heartbreaking at the time, but you also wouldn't have the career you have if you had stayed with Marcus. You would have followed his career, let it overshadow what you wanted to do with your life. "I guess we need to talk about this somewhere a little more private about all this." You look around and bite your lip. "Decide what we are going to do."

Marcus nods, glad you haven’t screamed at him or run away. “Do you want to placate our gleeful classmates and eat first?” He asks, not wanting to pressure you into anything. He’d gladly leave now if you wanted but he’d leave it up to you. “It might be helpful to hear more of what happened.”

You can agree with that. "It might help the hangover too." You acknowledge, looking towards the buffet. "Do you want to go grab a plate?" You ask, wanting to see if he wanted to eat with you or would prefer to separate and learn as much as he could on his own.

He glances around the room taking stock of everyone’s reactions and finds half the room trying very badly to pretend they’re not staring at the happy couple. “Go talk to Susan,” he suggests, knowing how your old friend loves to talk her head off. “I’ll see if Tim is feeling chatty.” He swallows, hard, and finds your eyes. “Better keep up appearances?” It’s selfish, using the curious eyes as an excuse to kiss you again, but Marcus Moreno is so rarely a selfish man that he’s willing to see if you’re okay with it.

You nod, knowing that everyone in the room is trying to discreetly look towards you. "Okay." You breathe out, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as he steps closer to you, his hand coming up to grip your waist. Your heart is pounding and you curl your hand around his neck as he leans in, his tongue coming out to swipe on his lower lip. "Kiss me, Marcus."

That’s all he has to hear. Holding back a groan, he tugs you closer and slots his lips against yours. It’s probably only for a second, but it feels like hours. The kind of kiss that makes him tingle. Your lips are as soft and warm as they were last night, but this time there’s no alcohol and the taste is all you with a touch of toothpaste. That groan he was holding back breaks free and he pulls back, embarrassed.

You sigh out, wishing he had kissed you for longer, but it was for show. Trying to convince the roomful of your former classmates that it hadn't been a drunken mistake when you had gotten married last night. You drop your hand from his neck and give him a small smile that you don't feel. "Good luck finding out what we did." You whisper and step to the side and walk off towards Susan.

Marcus watches you go, eyes lingering on your ass just a little too long, but he figures it’s okay to check out the woman who was technically his wife. God, what a mess. At this point, he had to admit to himself that he’d come here for you. No other reason and no other motive. He wanted to see you again and this was the only way how. How was he going to explain this to Missy? Hey here’s you new stepmom, we got drunk and Elvis sang Burnin Love to us after our vows. Ugh. He headed back to Tim and his other old friends, hoping they could shed some light on the events leading up to the insane cliche of a Vegas wedding.

“Awwww!” Susan is giggling when you walk back towards her, clapping her hands a little and looking at you with dreamy eyes. “You guys have always been so cute!”

"Thanks." You give her a smile and try to ignore the way you feel Marcus's eyes on you.

"He's watching you, you know." Susan says with a happy grin, making you look back to find his dark eyes on you. Giving you an encouraging smile before he looks over at the guys when someone comes up to him and slaps him on the back, a grin flashing across his face. "Tell me," Susan leans in conspiratorially, "was it as good as you remembered? Or was it even better?" She sighs, obviously in love with the idea of your fairy tale romance. "He's definitely a man and not a boy anymore." You hum and make a non-committal sound that she takes as playing it close to your chest.

******

“Come on, Romeo,” Tim is laughing and grinning, pulling Marcus along to join their other drama club friends in the buffet line. “Tear your eyes away from your bride for 30 seconds and come fuel up. From what I heard, you’re going to need your strength.”

Marcus blanches. “What d’ya’mean?” He mumbles, shoving a piece of toast in his face so he can’t say too much.

“Dude my room is right next to hers,” Tim shoots him a sly grin. “You guys are better than porn.”

“Uh...thanks?” What the hell does Marcus even say to that? “Please tell me you didn’t jack off to me having sex?” His eyes are absolutely pleading. He’s very glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself, but he doesn’t want anyone to say one single word against you for something you clearly regret. He wishes he didn’t have this knot in his stomach. Not the one from his hangover, but the one from kissing you just now.

“I would never do that.” Tim tells him solemnly before busting out a grin. “I was too busy editing your wedding video for today. Like you asked.”

******

"From what Tim said, you were very vocal."

You honestly wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You bite your lip, still aching pleasantly from whatever had made you so vocal last night. "So why don't you tell me what everyone said when we decided to go to the chapel."

That makes Susan change topics. She grins and nods. "Oh, everyone was just ecstatic. All talking about how touchy the two of you were. And when Marcus kissed you? All the girls that were jealous of you having him in high school were green with envy." She giggles and leans in to whisper, "Some of them didn't think it was real, just hype for the reunion, but I could see his heart in his eyes when he looks at you." She confides.

You flush, your cheeks burning, and you wish that were true. You had never exactly gotten over Marcus, even after you moved on and married your now ex-husband. "Well, the feeling was mutual." You admit, telling yourself it was just to keep up appearances.

******

“Thanks for that.” Marcus finds that he really means it, because it’s helping both of you to piece together the night - and maybe also a little bit because watching himself look at you like that was eating at his armor. The armor he had carefully constructed after his wife had died and he had promised himself that no other woman would come into Missy’s life until he was absolutely certain about her. And he had never been certain about any of the small number of women he’d dated in the last five years. But you? He mechanically fills up his plate with enough food to banish his hangover and nods his head along with whatever Tim was saying.

“What did she think of the ring?” He asks, and Marcus tunes back in. Tim huffs at his quizzical look and chuckles. “You were so serious about engraving those things, I figured she would at least say she liked it.”

Marcus immediately slips his ring off his finger and finds a rose flanked by both of your first initials carefully engraved inside. His chest clenched. You had played Romeo and Juliet together in high school – the rose in his ring being just like the ones he used to give you before rehearsal.

******

Your head is pounding and Susan's chatter isn't helping, but you follow behind her and fill up your plate with things that won't make your stomach revolt. "And then that engraving on your rings? That was so sweet and the fact that Marcus insisted on it made me swoon."

Your eyes widen and when you sit down you slip off your rings to find your initials and a rose engraved on the inside of the band. "Oh." Your heart melts but the realistic side of you hates to see it. It means the rings can't be returned. You hope that you had paid for your rings yourself so he isn't out the money.

******

“Uh, yeah,” Marcus manages to nod, forcing a smile that he hopes is convincing. “She really liked it.” Ready for a tornado to come and swallow him whole, Marcus shoves his hand in his pocket as the guys head to a table together, finding his cell phone open to a text string with his daughter:

‘Missy, I know I should have talked to you first. I should have told you about her, and how she’s the only woman I’ve ever loved besides your mother.’

‘There’s nobody else I want in our lives and even your abuela liked her, so you know she’s a keeper.’

‘Miss, I’m not trying to replace your mom. I just hope you’re okay with this. I love her, and I hope you will too.’

Oh god. Marcus swallows the rising dread threatening to make him sick all over again. What have I done?

******

You look over at Marcus, frowning when you see him looking at his phone with a distraught look on his face. You wondered what has him looking like he's seen a ghost. You think about going over there, but you aren't really his wife.

"Hey everybody!" Your head turns to the front of the room where the projector is going. "We are about to officially show the wedding video of our own newest happy couple. Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Moreno! Come on guys, stand up and come up here!" You want to crawl into a hole when everyone starts clapping again and Susan urges you up.

Catching your eye from a few tables away, Marcus makes his way over to you with an uneasy gait. The texts back from Missy had been more confused than anything else and he wasn’t looking forward to explaining what had happened. Reaching your seat, he offers you his hand to hold and presses an apologetic kiss to the back of it when you accept the gesture. The room “awwe”s at the sweet gesture, mistaking it for romantic.

"Are you okay?" You murmur quietly as the two of you make your way to the front of the room. Marcus squeezes your hand gently but doesn’t answer, making your stomach flip from nerves and from the way his hand feels entangled with yours. When you come up to the front, the former class president, John Walker, grins at both of you.

"So in high school they were voted most likely to get married." The picture of the two of you wrapped around each other was flashed up on the screen again like it had throughout the brunch. Your smile doesn't falter but your eye twitches, your grip on Marcus's hand loosening. "It's taken twenty years, but last night they made that a reality! And thanks to Tim Dalton, we have the wedding video for everyone to enjoy!"

When the footage starts rolling it's of the whole reunion, lots of couples slow dancing on the hotel ballroom's dance floor to the Pretender's "I'll Stand by You". The camera zooms in on Marcus with his arms around you, the two of you with hearts in your eyes. The song continues as Marcus watches himself lean in to kiss you, and he smiles a little now at the memory. On the screen, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, both of you losing the rhythm of the music as you get caught up in the kiss. He remembers it distinctly now, that moment. He leans down a little and nudges your shoulder before whispering in your ear: "I remember that...you, um...you had just told me you missed me. And I said I missed you too."

You vaguely remember that, the haze of alcohol not having taken hold quite yet. "You...you said that you almost asked your information director for my number." Your brow furrows as you remember that detail. "You didn't want to contact me through the reunion app." There was an app that was like a general chat room for the entire class. It was chaotic at best and completely visible to everyone. "Or am I imagining that?"

He shakes his head gently, head still bent next to your ear. "No. You didn't imagine that." He swallows, dry mouth and the slight anxiety of memories coming back mixing together. "I really only came here to see you, anyway. I didn't figure the whole class needed to know that, so...I was going to call you and see if you were even coming." Heat creeps up Marcus's cheeks. "Clearly, I chickened out."

You can't help but grin at that. "But obviously it worked out." You point out, liking the way that his eyes lighten when they crinkle in a matching grin. God he’s still as handsome as the day you had first held his hand. Or the last day he had been close to you. Maybe more so. He had aged like fine wine. Your attention is captured when you see the video change, obviously later in the night, the two of you a little more tipsy.

Marcus reluctantly looks away from you, turning his eyes up again to watch the two of you on screen – you sitting in his lap with your arms around him, gently peppering his cheeks and neck with kisses. The audio crackles a little, tuning in to what the two of you are saying. "So fucking gorgeous," he hears himself saying to you, before he actually giggles a little at you planting a kiss on a spot where he's ticklish. He has to agree with his tipsy self – you look amazing.

Catcalls come over the video, shouts from other classmates for you to get a room. Until Susan comes into view. "No, they need to just get married! We all know they belong together."

You fluster tipsily, laughing and kissing Marcus. "You should make an honest woman out of me." You coo, batting your eyelashes at him playfully. Oh God, you had encouraged it, you had practically begged Marcus to marry you. Embarrassment floods your body even as Marcus eagerly nods on the video.

The catcalls turn to cheers as Marcus watches himself lift you off his lap and slip off his chair, down on one knee. Wide-eyed, he grips your hand tighter as he watches himself propose to you. Tipsy as he was he trips over his words a little, but it is absolutely clear that he was not coerced or forced in any way. And neither were you. Tipsy? Yes. Encouraged by your classmates? Absolutely. But this was two adults who seemed to be fully aware of what they were doing.

You watch the proposal and the way that you immediately nod and crush your lips to his. Only pulling away to shout to everyone around you that you were getting married. "Oh my God." You whine, only where Marcus can hear you while everyone else in the room releases 'awwwwe's and laughs at how excited the two of you are in the video. "I don't think you can blame yourself for this." You whisper to Marcus.

"We're in this together." He moves his hand from holding yours to wrapping his whole arm around your shoulders supportively. The video morphs again - this part clearly filmed on someone's phone as you and Susan are poking through white dresses in a shop clearly meant for this exact purpose. Susan grabs a little veil off a shelf and plops it on your head, telling you to "Say something to Marcus!" while she points at the phone. They were obviously already planning on putting this video together.

"Marcus, I love you so much." You gush to the camera, making a kissing face to it before you burst into giggles. Susan squeals and says she's found the perfect dress, recapturing your attention.

The video cuts to Marcus searching for suits with Tim. "I can just wear this." He whines, looking down at the outfit he was wearing. Your eyes widen, realizing the suit he was wearing now wasn't what he had come to the reunion in.

"No man, you can't get married in that. Tell your lady love something." Tim says, encouraging Marcus to look over at the camera.

“I love you, hermosa.” Marcus says on the video, flustering and grinning. “I’m so glad you’re here and I’m here and that you said yes.”

Beside you, Marcus looks down at his suit and squeezes his eyes closed. How did he not realize that he wasn’t wearing the same one he came in? The pile of clothes on your hotel room from earlier comes back into his mind and he now realizes there was a white dress tossed in one corner of the room.

The video cuts to the chapel, the two of you giggling and Marcus won't even let you go long enough to walk down the aisle traditionally. Loudly telling Elvis that he wasn't letting you go, it had been too long since he had last held you. That makes you bite your lip, swallowing hard when he leans in and kisses you again on screen.

The vows are surprisingly heartfelt, for how drunk you both are at that point. He’s pulling you in for kisses after every sentence or two, telling Elvis that he wouldn’t be able to keep from kissing you either if he were him. When Elvis finally proclaims you man and wife, Marcus watches himself pick you up bridal style and carry you back down the aisle, shouting at everyone not to wait up. The sound of you giggling in his arms is one that brings him back – and he realizes he’s been holding you tighter while your haphazard wedding ceremony plays out on screen.

You fluster, hearing the comments that the party that had come with you are saying. You bite your lip and your face feels like it's on fire when they start making bets on how long before you announce a baby. Your eyes dart over to Marcus's and you see his own widen behind his glasses, the thought of birth control obviously one that had just hit him. You take mercy on him, not wanting him to panic too hard. You lean in to him. "I'm protected." You whisper, hoping to put his mind at ease.

Marcus deflates a little at your assurance, ashamed that he hadn’t thought of that himself. The video ends with Susan and Tim waving your marriage certificate in front of the camera and the room is filled with the sound of flatware clicking against glasses. “Kiss!” Someone in the back of the room spots, and within seconds everyone has joined in.

You lift a brow and look at him in question. It wasn't like you hadn't kissed before. This time you were a little more eager, wishing that you knew what he was thinking when he searches your face before nodding. His hand cups your cheek, and you tilt your head as his mouth slants across yours. Firm and much deeper than the one he had put on you earlier, making you whimper into his mouth and melt against him.

Kissing you had a habit of making the world float away. Marcus had kept himself firmly on the ground in the alcove earlier, but this time you were pressed against him and sighing open to let him in and he melted along with you – much to the glee of the entire ballroom. This time when you parted it was reluctantly and Marcus keeps his eyes on yours, knowing how much softer he looks and feels. Did you actually mean even the smallest bit of what you had said last night? Did you still love him even a little bit or was it the alcohol and horniness talking? Make an honest woman out of me, you had said on that video. He would have, if he hadn’t met Missy’s mother. You were the only two women he’d ever loved. And right now the clenching in his heart told him he might have meant it when he said he loved you. Or at least, he was falling back in love with you.

You tuck your head under his chin, shy from how much you had let yourself slip into the kiss. Feeling like it had been real while he was kissing you. Your heart aches, wishing that everything that had been said in that video had been real, but you couldn't be sure. You sigh quietly when his arms tighten around you as the rest of the room finally quiets down. "Now lovebirds, as a gift to you, we have booked you two a few extra days here and changed your flights. So you can enjoy a proper honeymoon." John announces, making your eyes widen. "Some of us have bets on when there will be another announcement." He chuckles.

“It’s okay,” Marcus whispers to you. His arms squeeze you close and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It gives us time to figure this out.” Figure it out. Marcus can feel how wrong the words came out, but he doesn’t know what to say to fix it. You would want out of all of this as soon as possible, but since there were probably twice as many divorce lawyers in Vegas as there were chapels, he was sure you’d be out of the woods in no time. He would apologize profusely to Missy and nurse a severely sad heart at home. He had never wanted to do anything to hurt you and now he’d done it twice – breaking up with you and somehow getting you into a marriage that you’d only agreed to because you were drunk.

From the side of the little stage, Tim hands him a room key with a wink. “And there’s a surprise waiting for you there!” He announces to the room. Your eyes widen, half afraid of what kind of surprise there is.

“Well, I guess that’s our queue to leave.” Marcus says playfully, taking your hand again and making everyone laugh. He leans into the microphone and tells the crowd: “Thank you, this will definitely be a reunion we will never forget.” Talk about the understatement of the year. And severely ironic.

John shoos you off the stage. “We wish you both the best of luck and get out of here! Go make babies!” He jokes, making you fluster and you can see Marcus’s ears burning.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Moreno #Marcus Moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno x you #Marcus Moreno x female read #Marcus Moreno x f!reader #high school sweethearts #one that got away #what happens in vegas stays in vegas #We Can Be Heroes

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joels-shitty-puns · 5 months

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Can we talk about Marcus Moreno for a sec and also the fact that they made his uniform SO MUCH SEXIER than every other hero??? Like hello? Look at Pedro's outfit next to Boyd's. His is so baggy and Pedro's is TIGHT and black. No offense to Boyd. His suit is still cool. But look at the difference.

Also this was a kids movie, they didn't need to go that hard. Like who in the costume dept had a crush on Pedro?

I don't see enough fanfic about him. He's sexy as hell and an incredible dad. He also wears glasses and is a kick ass superhero. What more do you need?

Was the movie a cheesy lil kids movie? Yes. But damn, Marcus.

#pedro pascal #we can be heroes #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #Pedro #marcus moreno #Marcus

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absurdthirst · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023: October 2nd

Day 2: Frottage, Sexual Frustration, Virginity

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Virginity, loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Tonight is probably the most nerve wracking, terror inducing night of your life. The night you are going to give your virginity to the one and only Marcus Moreno.

It’s not like you meant to stay a virgin. It just kind of happened. A combination of high standards and concentrating on your work has led you to be a middle-aged woman with no sexual experience. About to try to take this next step with a man that you not only respect but you are really, really attracted to.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you take a deep breath. Smoothing down the lines of your lingerie that you had decided was the most appropriate to show that you are ready to do this.

He’s been amazing. The conversation had been hard, breaking down into tears while you confess the dark secret that you’ve been keeping from the man you’ve been dating for three months. He had not judged you, just wrapped his arms around you and assured you that it didn’t matter to him. He would wait until you are ready to do anything.

That, more than anything, told you that this was the man that you wanted to give your virginity to. Or, maybe a better way to put it would be that this man is the one you wanted to experience sex with for the first time.

Now, you feel like you are ready. Every night you spend in his company convinces you that you are eager to take this step. Every lingering kiss, the tension builds, but he still holds back. Ending the make out sessions with one final kiss and then a breathless sigh as he shoves his hand through his hair, shooting you a sheepish grin before he discreetly adjusts the proof of his own desire.

Taking one more breath, you turn and slip out of the bathroom. Turning off the light and finding Marcus waiting on the bed for you. His own nerves are not on display as he turns towards you. Eyes widening behind his glasses as he stands up. “Wow.”

The breathed out awe in that one word soothes you, making you smile and giggle slightly as you pop your hip out to pose for him. “You like this?” You ask, watching as he takes off his glasses and closes them to put on the dresser before he steps closer to you.

“Yeah.” He nods and licks his lips and slowly reaches for you so you have a chance to back away if you want. You don’t want to back away, you want to press closer.

“Marcus…” You bite your lip and your heart is pounding in your chest. Nerves fluttering and churning in your stomach. “I- I want this.” You had talked about this at dinner, but you feel the need to make sure that he knows that you really do want this.

“Are you sure?” In front of you is a superhero. A man who has saved the world countless times, has powers that you cannot even match. Yet, right now, all his attention is on you. His warm eyes darkened with desire, and you feel the way that his grip tightens on you. Still, despite his own needs, he’s making sure that you have a choice.

“I’m sure.” You nod, fingers curling into the shirt on his arms. “I’m really sure.”

Once he’s given permission, Marcus instantly becomes the lover that you’ve always dreamed of when you secretly read those romance novels. His touch is worshipful as he starts to slowly caress you, his mouth kissing yours over and over again before he starts to trail kisses down your neck.

Never moving too fast to overwhelm you, he keeps you yearning for more, every perfectly placed touch meant to keep you on edge for him. Your breathing heavy and your thoughts completely turned to mush by every calloused pass of his hands on your skin.

Marcus hums as he lays you down on the bed, one knee between yours. Hands gentle as he starts to peel you out of the lingerie. Groaning and dropping feather light kisses on the skin that he exposes. Making you feel like a princess, or a goddess as he makes every doubt about yourself fade into the warmth of his presence.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He groans, his cock twitching in his pants as he looks down at you.

Squirming under the weight of his gaze, you don’t feel like a virgin, you feel like a vixen. A seductress that could tempt any mere man and make them fall at your feet. “You’re gorgeous, Marcus.” You pant quietly. “I need more.”

Being the glorious man that he is, Marcus knows exactly what you need. His fingers sliding through your folds and starting to rub your clit in slow, tight circles. Your eyes roll back and your moan is embarrassingly loud. Not that he seems to mind, his groan matching yours when his lips descend on yours again.

You had already told him that you didn’t want him to go down on you. Too embarrassed or scared of what he might think when he’s face to face with your pussy. It’s not like you’ve ever had that done to you before, and you know that you are nervous enough about letting this man’s large cock inside you. You know it’s large, you’ve felt it pressed against you when your make out sessions got a little steamy.

“I’m going to make you cum just like this, baby.” Marcus’s voice is like honey whiskey. Rough and smooth as he coos at you. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

It’s hard to give over control, but you know you are in good hands. Those hands, the same ones on you right now, have literally held the fate of the world in them. You think you can trust that he will do right by you. Your eyes are closed, lips curled up in a slight smile. Missing the way that his own eyes narrow slightly in concentration. Wanting to make tonight perfect for you.

“Marc.” Your whine is breathless, body trembling under his touch as you start to creep closer to the edge. “Oh, oh god.” It’s the first of many times that you will cry out in pleasure.

“That’s it, baby.” He murmurs, his lips pressing against your pulse to feel it pound under them. “You need to cum, so I can make sure you enjoy when I’m inside you.”

Those words throw you over the edge. The pleasure bursting in a sharp kaleidoscope of heat, flooding your body in waves. “Marc!”

Marcus groans, cock twitching and throbbing in his pants. He hadn’t pushed his fingers inside you, but you would be so tight and wet right now. Slowing down the circles of his fingers as your hips chase the pleasure he is bringing you.

Coming down from the utter bliss is soft, slow. Slow enough that you don’t even realize that you lose contact with Marcus for a moment. The shuffling of clothes not even registering until he’s back in your arms. His hot skin pressed against yours and immediately firing all new sorts of sensations and shivers.

His kisses are tender, reassuring you as he starts to settle between your thighs, the long length of him pressing against your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. Swallowing them down for you and rocking his hips forward, making you want to wrap your legs around him.

The moment he slips inside you, time ceases to exist. Everything stops, even your heart as he slowly pushes in. Filling you, stretching you beyond anything that you imagined in your wildest dreams. Letting you cling to him as he kisses you and pets your hair, murmuring praises.

He moves slowly, letting you feel every inch, every ridge and vein as he pulls and pushes inside your slick walls. Every roll of his hips pulls another sensation, another moan out of you. Working your body back up slowly, but just as steadily as before.

The weight of him is magnificent. The crease of his brow as he hovers over you. The flex of his arms as he keeps his full weight off of you. Totally focused on you and how this is making you feel. Every moan listened to, responded to. When you gasp, he’s making sure that it’s in pleasure and not discomfort.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, sure that you wouldn’t be able to cum from sex alone, but he had taken his time to make sure you weren’t falling behind. Grinding his hips just perfectly to hit the right angle inside you. His cock pressing against something amazing.

His own pleasure follows right behind yours. Obviously holding himself back to make sure you had cum before he gives into his own needs. Groaning out your name is the sexiest thing that you’ve ever heard in your life and even though you are panting, breathless, you can’t help but stroke his chest and his cheeks as he rides out his pleasure.

“How was it?” Marcus asks after he’s cleaned you up and you are cuddled into his chest. His fingers stroking your arm as the softness of the moment isn’t lost on you. You feel amazing, tired, but energetic all at the same time.

“It was amazing.” Turning your kiss his chin and smile when he looks down at you. “Thank you for making my first time special.” You whisper quietly.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” Marcus assures you, licking his lip and leaning in for another kiss. “My absolute pleasure.”

Marcus Moreno took your virginity, and made it a perfect night for you. Ever the superhero.

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fanfiction #we can be heroes

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morallyinept · 3 months

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A full character analysis on MARCUS MORENO from the film WE CAN BE HEROES.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to learn more about the character. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

FULL CHARACTER STUDY:

Basic Details:

Full Name: Marcus Moreno

Nickname(s): None noted

Appears in: We Can Be Heroes, 2020 (First heard on Missy's bracelet at approx. 03:21, first appearance seen on screen at approx. 03:23)

Age (if known): Unknown/not confirmed - assumned late 30's/early 40's

Nationality: American, not confirmed exactly from where, however the film was largely filmed in and around Austin, Texas, featuring a lot of familiar buildings and architecture from real life Austin, as favoured by the director.

Sexuality: Straight

Family: Daughter, Missy Moreno. Mother, Anita Moreno. Deceased wife, unnamed.

Spouse/Partner: Marcus is a widower. His wife died, presumably, when Missy was younger. Her name isn't revealed in the film, or how she passed away exactly.

Relationship Status: Single/widower - Marcus currently still wears his wedding band

Current Living Status: Alive

Languages Spoken: English/Spanish

Education: Not confirmed, however it would be prudent to assume Marcus has obtained high school/college education at least. Marcus is also leader of the Heroics, so assumed further education in training.

Occupation:

Job Role/Title: Single father/leader of the Heroics. His card that he swipes to get onto the transit to take him down into Heroic's HQ reads Special Agent.

Special Skill(s): Master swordsman with dual katanas, magnetic powers that enable him to keep a constant grip of his katanas. Marcus is able to fly with the aid of a device attached to his utility belt. Marcus also leaps really high into the pit of aliens. Marcus is also skilled in martial arts.

Notable Colleague(s): Miracle Guy, Shark Boy, Lava Girl, Anita Moreno

Marcus's ID swipe card briefly seen:

Distinguishing Features:

Tattoo(s): None

Piercings: None

Scar(s): None visible

Other Markings: Freckles on neck

Eye Colour: Brown

Prominent Feature(s): Moustache, wears glasses

Injuries: Marcus falls and crashes, lower back first, into an upturned car when his flying device is broken by the aliens, but he quickly regains composure and get's back up

Hair Colour: Brown

Personality:

Traits: loyal, brave, strong

Marcus' mother and Missy's grandmother, Anita Moreno, trains the Heroics. Her nickname is abuelita, which is Spanish for grandma. She has a secret training ground hidden in her garden and is presumed to have trained her son, Marcus, too.

Marcus is a widower, his wife died when Missy was much smaller, but it is not known the exact cause of her death. After her passing, Marcus made a promise to Missy not to do frontline battle alongside The Heroics anymore, and to remain working at Heroics HQ at his desk instead. He feels conflicted having to break his promise to Missy when the aliens invade and he has to suit up.

Marcus' wife wasn't a superhero with powers, she was human, however Anita tells Missy that she was the real strength behind Marcus, enabling him to be a great leader.

Although Marcus knows he is no match on his own, as the only Heroic left, against all the alien entities, he still tries as he tells Missy "a good leader leads by example."

Both Marcus and Missy's communication devices are engraved with MM which is their mutual initials.

Marcus' garden appears to have a swimming pool and what looks like a hammock. The kitchen is large with two TV's evidenced. His kitchen and garden have a lot of Spanish influences in the decor.

Fashion/Outfits:

Outfit 1 - (Opening scene in kitchen) Green round neck t-shirt, grey jeans, black rimmed spectacles, communication watch on left wrist

Outfit 2 - (Dropping off Missy scene/Heroics HQ scene) Light blue long sleeved shirt, dark blue silk tie, navy blue slacks, black belt, black shoes, black rimmed spectacles. Black leather jacket worn later at HQ

Outfit 3 - (Facing off against the aliens scene & remaining scenes) Black round neck t-shirt, black cargo pants, black steel toe-capped boots, black tac vest, black fingerless gloves, black elbow protectors, black belt with Heroics logo metal belt buckle

Accessories: Black rimmed spectacles, communication wrist watch device on left wrist engraved with MM his initials, wedding band on wedding ring finger, looks to be possibly platinum rather than gold, Marcus is able to fly with a device that seems attached to his utility belt.

Close up details of Marcus' costume:

Weapons Used:

Weapon(s): (Exact weapons pictured below)

Marcus has two, black handled and leather wrapped katanas (Japanese style fighting swords) which are mounted on a plaque at his desk in Heroics HQ. He can seemingly "call" them to him by opening his hand and they fly into his grip. It is debated whether he has a magnetic force that attracts them to his hands, or if he is psychically able to "call" them to him. However as it is never confirmed in the film, most assume the former.

He is a master swordsman and able to wield the katanas confidently and effectively.

Marcus is trained and skilled in martial arts and is in peak human condition to fight.

Modes of Transport:

Vehicle(s):

Marcus drives a dark silver/grey Toyota, which looks to be a Camry model. His car appears modified inside to tune into Heroics HQ via the dash computer.

Marcus flies using a flight device attached to his belt.

Dialogue:

🗨 See Marcus' full dialogue from the film, including deleted scenes.

Further Character Links (if any):

Marcus Moreno Fandom Wiki Page, Behind The Scenes: We Can Be Heroes, Pedro & Christian Slater interviewed by Guppy

Samples of Marcus' Wardrobe - Wrist watch info obtained via Styleofpascal IG

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO'S CHARACTERS ANALYSED

#marcus moreno #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #marcus moreno we can be heroes #we can be heroes #PPCU #pedro pascal character database #pedro pascal character study #pedro pascal character analysis #marcus moreno character analysis

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radiowallet · 7 months

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Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter takes Marcus to a party in the valley. WC: 4.5K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists. Anal sex, dirty talk, kissing, cum play, semi-public sex. Small angsty moments. Yearning. So much yearning. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy). A lot of purple prose and waxing poetic.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been a very very long time since I've shared any writing here. I don't have any good excuses other than real-life stressors, mental health and anxiety, and the overall stress of being on Tumblr really really got to me. I'm trying to ease my way back in. Slowly. I've really enjoyed catching up on all the amazing fics you guys have been writing. Thank you to everyone, still here or otherwise. Even when I was off dealing with irl stuff, I could feel the support.

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For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

Marcus chewed at his nail bed, surveying the house from the backseat of his Uber. It was hardly the first time he’d pulled up to the Sherman Oaks home. He was comfortable with the routine at this point. Tapping in the code for the front gate with practiced ease. The same one Dieter had scribbled onto the back page of a forgotten script after that first night together in New York City, his cell ringing incessantly from his back pocket, a car waiting down the curb to whisk him away. Marcus swore he could still taste the mint and menthol on the actor’s breath when he stepped in close and pressed the paper into his hands, kissing him until his toes curled.

“Please say you’ll come visit.”

After that, it had been one strategically planned visit after the other. Marcus was almost mathematical in his process, arranging flights out west around his patrol schedule, switching shifts, and taking on extra duties just to rationalize the time away. Burning the candle at both ends but not caring even in the slightest, happy to run his tank on empty. He’d drive all fucking night if it meant more time with Dieter.

So he took to the task with a vigilant level of focus, texting details and arrival times, the actor responding with a barrage of emojis, always ending with a heart.

Marcus liked the way the little pixelated picture made his stomach flip.

Once together, it became less of a routine and more of a dance, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm that Marcus had no desire to predict. They would lose themselves in each other, wrapping tightly around the other, the heat impossible to turn away from. There were late nights and early mornings, the color of the sun replacing the hours on the clock. Sometimes, he would give up on sleep all together, content to match the actor’s eccentricities, watching Dieter move from room to room, minute to minute, until the other man would return to his arms.

But as each visit came to a close, Marcus would find himself falling back on easy habits, his mind already making plans and rearranging schedules, focusing on that instead of the overbearing weight of goodbye.

In the middle of one farewell, Dieter had grinned and nipped at his bottom lip, a tease curling around the curve of his cheek.

“Don’t worry so much about the vigilante shit, sweet boy. You’re welcome anytime.”

Marcus had frowned at that, but Dieter was unfazed, humming an off-key pop song under his breath before giving one more piece of advice.

Be spontaneous.

Marcus had gnawed on those two words the entire plane ride home, the concept both enticing and diabolical at once. He imagined all the ways he would have spoiled Dieter if they lived in the same zip code. Spur of the moment cups of coffee, flowers just because, nights in and out and everything in between. But even those daydreams felt out of reach, Marcus unable to let go of the need to control everything. Everything. Everything that he possibly could.

Except Deiter Bravo.

The actor was bound for overseas, a six-month shoot looming ahead, lonely and large. They had spent the weekend before much the same way they had any other. Twisted together, sweat and cum and lips and hands pressed into bare skin, ignoring the ticking of traitorous time. Cruel miles were taking the other man away from him, and Marcus couldn’t stop the swell of jealous fear flaring inside his heart.

Would he even be missed when the whole luminous, wonderful, exciting world was waiting for Dieter on the other side of the tarmac?

A deep cough from the front seat dragged him back to the present, and before he could second guess himself again, Marcus climbed out of the car, tapping out five stars with one hand and grabbing his overnight bag with the other. He hesitated, just the smallest moment of debate, before he knocked, three sharp raps on the large black door. There was a shout from inside, Dee’s voice alerting someone he would get it, a breath and a curse as the lock was fiddled with, and then they were standing face to face after only 39 hours apart.

Dieter seemed shocked to see him and he didn't bother hiding it, his jaw dropping in time with his arms, the shirt he had been buttoning hanging open to reveal his bare chest. Marcus couldn’t help but steal a glance of tan skin and a soft belly, licking his lips in anticipation. When Dee called his attention back up, the other man was smiling wide.

“This is…”

“A surprise?”

“A great fucking surprise.”

It was almost a blur after that. Fumbling hands and broken laughter as they came together in a messy kiss. They managed to make it up the stairs and down the hall, Dieter’s bed barely breaking their fall.

Marcus wanted to take his time, should have been taking his time, but Dieter’s voice was in his ear, thanking him — thanking him? — for showing up tonight. Thanking him and begging him and pressing salt-slicked lips into the curve of his neck. And before he could breathe the other man in, savor the moment that was coming out of nowhere, they stripped away each and every layer, Dieter panting beneath the hurried press of Marcus’s fingers deep inside.

Sooner rather than later, Marcus was sliding into the other man one final time, their hips flush and their fingers laced. He came with a groan, face buried into the dip of Dieter’s neck, while the actor sunk his teeth into his shoulder, the pleasure burning away into the edges of pain. Only after they both found their breath, bodies pliant and limbs loose, did Marcus find his voice.

“Do you want to order in?”

Dieter didn’t say anything and Marcus craned his neck up to peek past the other man’s chin and catch a glimpse of him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Did you already eat? Because that’s okay.”

“No…,” he started, fingers tracing a line of muscle from the top of his shoulder and back around, lingering along the teeth marks he left there only minutes earlier. “I haven’t eaten. I…there’s this thing I have to….well, not have to. I was getting ready for it when you knocked—“

“Dee?”

“There’s a party,” he finally blurted out, eyes finding the swing of the ceiling fan above, a grimace pulling his lips into a jagged line, a deep shade of pink settling on his cheeks.

Marcus leaned up on his elbow, watching the small battle of wills dragging across Dieter’s face. He thought maybe he should try to comfort the other man but he was suddenly anxious, those creeping realities working their way up his spine.

“A party?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of this farewell thing my friends are throwing,” he explained, not needing to. “Really, just an excuse to get blitzed.”

The lack of eye contact suddenly made much more sense.

“You wanted to go.”

It wasn’t a question.

Dieter was up and over him in a flash, one large hand bending around Marcus’s jaw, thumb pressing the seam of his lips shut. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Marcus pursed his lips, the pad of Dieter’s thumb still pressing firm. He felt the callous from where Dee cheated his paintbrush, a perfect spot to push a kiss before pulling away.

“You want to go.”

Dieter searched his face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, trying to pull apart the determined set of Marcus’s jaw. When he came up empty-handed, he fell back to his elbows with an exaggerated sigh, one large hand still cupping the cut of the hero’s cheekbone, keeping his thumb close enough to touch.

“I want to go with you.”

———————

Marcus smiled from where he was leaning against the doorway, watching Dieter rummage through his ridiculously sized closet, a string of muttered musings leaving him as he pulled item after item off of hangers. The Heroic had slipped back into his jeans and t-shirt once the decision had been made that they would attend the party together, not really packing (or owning) anything that fit the L.A. scene.

He was two steps towards the bathroom, intent on fixing his messy hair when Dee stopped him with a strong grip on his elbow.

“Leave it,” he teased, a quick kiss pressed to his lips, fingers tugging at one of the sweat-slicked curls.

Now he was standing behind him, sliding a stone-washed jean jacket up one arm and then the other, one more kiss, this time gifted to the back of his neck. The jacket hangs a bit loose around him, Marcus guessing a mix between the cut and style, and Dieter’s broader frame both at play. He couldn’t help himself, tugging the collar to his nose and inhaling deeply, the smell of weed and cologne and something subtle sweet filling his lungs.

He felt Dieter’s eyes, watching him carefully in the reflection of the mirror, his hands finding the dip of his waist beneath the bulky fabric, gripping hard then soft, one, two, three times. Marcus took in the pair of them — sex-mussed hair and bright blush on him, wild eyes, and a teasing smile on Dieter — and he suddenly had no desire to go to this party. Any party.

No.

All he wanted was for Dieter to pull this jacket off the same way he had so easily slipped it on, and drag him back down to the safety of the mattress.

“Come on, sweet boy,” he hummed, the hook of his nose tracing the shell of Marcus’s ear. “Sooner we get there, sooner I get to take you home.”

The word followed Marcus down the stairs and out to the car, his stomach flipping each time he let the meaning of it roll around inside his head.

Home?

———————

Driving in L.A. was an experience in and of itself. Marcus had made his own attempts, managing to find a rhythm in the few times he had been sent out to the west coast on assignment. It wasn’t much different than driving in any other city, as long as you were prepared to sit in what felt like endless hours of traffic. Of course, Marcus had the pleasure of abusing side streets and off-ramps when it came down to emergency situations.

Driving with Dieter behind the wheel was a different experience altogether. He seemed unfettered by speed limits or traffic lights, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around Marcus’s knee, singing along to the song on the radio but only getting about half the words right. If not for his powers and years of honing his reflexes, Marcus would have maybe suggested he do the driving when he was in town.

As it was, it was nice to settle into the plush leather seat and listen to Dieter’s slightly off-key voice, his hand squeezing Marcus’s knee in time with the beat of the music. He leaned back and closed his eyes, weighing the risk of asking Dieter to just keep driving. Maybe if they kept going, all night and all day, they could avoid the inevitable goodbyes looming in the distance.

———————

The last time Marcus and Dieter had been at a party together, they had only ever heard of each other, recognizing names and faces from newspapers and movie screens. They didn’t know any different than what was said in headlines or plastered on billboards, rumors and hearsay coloring in their opinions of one another. How many assumptions had Marcus made about the actor upon that first meeting? That he was pompous. Self-centered. Selfish. An addict. An asshole. A monster.

Or maybe Marcus was afraid that was how Dieter saw him.

The monster in the night. The shadow that lurked in the corner. Fighting away the evils of the world, the palms of his hands so very dirty with blood and secrets and violence. Living in the between of good and bad and never knowing where he really stood.

But when their eyes met across that darkened alley, only the glow of Dieter’s cigarette casting shadows between them, those half-truths and packaged lies that Marcus took for granted started to fall away. Somewhere between their small secrets and one smokey kiss goodnight, he started to learn who Dieter Bravo really was.

This party was different in so many ways than that first elegant affair. Gone was the light classical music, replaced with something loud, a heavy bass and fast lyrics. Bowls of chips instead of passed trays. Stiff black and white was traded in for soft denim, Dieter’s scent surrounding Marcus from room to room. They entered the party together, no longer separate, no longer strangers, and instead more.

So much more.

Dieter’s arm was wrapped around Marcus’s waist, holding him close by his side as they navigated the packed mansion. The crowd parted around them, little waves of people ebbing and flowing to make room for the two men, boisterous cheers of joy raining down upon them. Dieter preened beneath the attention, his smile wide and his cheeks warm, the hand wrapped around Marcus’s waist squeezing hard to grab the Heroic’s attention.

“They like to make a fuss,” he hummed into Marcus’s ear.

He couldn’t help but cock his own grin back, turning his head just enough to brush his lips along the shell of Dieter’s ear, delighting in the shiver that followed. “I think you like the fuss.”

———————

They get separated about an hour in, an inevitability between the number of people vying for Dieter’s attention and the sheer size of the house. Marcus excused himself to the bathroom, trying and failing not to be annoyed when the first empty one he found was on the opposite end of the party. By the time he made it back to where he left Dieter, the other man had moved, now sitting on a couch, friends and fans alike draped around him.

There was something strange about watching Dieter Bravo in what some would consider his natural habitat. He was bright and shiny and impossible to look away from. He almost looked relaxed, his arms thrown over the back of the sofa and his legs stretched out long, only the tap tap tap of his heel giving him away.

Marcus wanted to insert himself. To crowd himself beside the other man and press his palm to the bend of his knee in hopes of soothing away the small tremor of anxiety, but he hesitated, his own worries holding him in place. So he stayed where he was, back glued to the wall, arms crossed and frown firm, as he tried to decipher the scene playing out in front of him.

Was Dieter’s laugh real just then? Or was the one Marcus had teased out of him hours prior? The sounds seemed so similar, a copy of a copy that looked and felt and sounded real. Were his cheeks pink because he preferred their attention over Marcus’s? Or was it because this room was too damn hot? What did it mean when Dieter touched her knee? Or kissed his cheek? Or leaned a little bit more into their touch?

And why did Marcus care?

He didn’t consider himself a jealous man.

But it almost felt inevitable, the dark tendrils of jealousy seemingly always present, ever since that fateful moment in the alleyway, smoke and secrets traded away for unspoken promises for more. Marcus clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, watching the other man glow beneath the attention of others. Was it merely a reflection back of the attention poured upon him? The mirrors of a disco ball catching in the light and shining for the delight of others? Or was Dieter just enjoying another moment in the limelight?

Marcus couldn’t seem to see the line between real and fake, or what side he stood on.

Someone handed him a drink in the midst of his brooding, and the sting of the alcohol paired well with his bitter mood. He was trapped in a hell of his own making, refusing to look away from the crowd gathered around Dieter, but hating every second of it.

The jealousy burned inside of him. What had just been something dark mingling in the background was now present and in full force. Marcus was jealous. Jealous at how effortlessly Dieter lived his life, able to navigate crowds and fame and fervor without ever breaking a sweat. Jealous at how his smile seemed just as bright as it had when he opened his door hours earlier. Jealous at how someone else held the attention of his sweet brown eyes.

And suddenly there was fear. Icy cold and horrifying reality.

Marcus didn’t belong here. Here with these pretty people and their clean lines and bright lights. He was messy edges and dirty hands, stained with years of violence that would never scrub clean. There was dirt on his ledger and red on his chest, and Dieter was beautiful. So very very beautiful.

Another wave of panic gripped tight at Marcus’s throat.

When was the last time he told Dieter he was beautiful? Yesterday? Or the day before that? Either way, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. And he couldn’t fathom a world where he lost the chance to say it again.

He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose him.

The lights above them flickered, an unwelcome side effect of his superpowers, Marcus’s unruly emotions too much to handle all at once. It was just enough to drag everyone’s attention up, stealing their eyes away from Dieter, but only briefly. The actor caught his gaze in the small interim, brows pinched and lips curved, his sharp mind putting the puzzle together. Marcus blushed beneath the scrutiny, feeling very much like a child caught in the midst of a crime. He slammed the cup down on the nearest surface he could find and shoved his dirty hands in the pockets of Dieter’s jacket, and turned away, the lights flickering one last time as he made a quick and embarrassing exit.

From behind he could hear the shout of a stranger.

“Hey, Dee where’s your boyfriend headed?”

Marcus was so focused on the fact that someone else called him ‘Dee’ that he missed the way Dieter's eyes lit up at the word boyfriend.

The bathroom he had found earlier was blissfully empty, and he took care to lock the door behind him. He braced himself against the sink, the cool porcelain a balm to the heat of his palms, breathing in and out, sharp and fast, to match the beat of his heart. A knock came seconds later, Dieter’s voice chasing the sound.

“Let me in, Marcus.”

It didn’t sound like a request.

Marcus unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist, and the actor slipped in, eyes pinning him in place as he locked the door behind him. For a moment both of them refused to speak, 2 feet of space between them, and enough silence to last a lifetime. It was Dieter who finally broke the tension, stepping forward until Marcus was within his reach, the palm of his hand cupping his cheek to keep him close.

“Flattered as I am, I can’t decide if I like jealous on you or not.”

Marcus knew it was foolish to lie at this point. If his fucking superpowers hadn’t given him away, then storming off surely had, and any denial would have rung hollow. Besides, they had promised. Months ago, in an opulent hotel room, cum and sweat sticking them together. They promised to always be honest with each other.

“I don’t belong here, Dee.”

“Shut up.” The sentiment came out as a tease, the tip of Dieter’s thumb tracing the stubble along Marcus’s cheek, but the look on his face was serious.

Marcus shook his head, unsure how to say what had seemed so clear to him only minutes ago. “I’m not…I’m not g–”

“I swear to fucking all, if you say the word ‘good,’ Moreno.”

His mouth clamped shut, and he smiled for the first time since he left Dieter’s side earlier in the night. The other man yanked him in for a quick kiss, only pulling a breath away when he spoke again.

“You are better than all of us, sweet boy. Please tell me you know that?”

Marcus wanted to shake his head in disagreement, the very idea that Dieter saw the good in him too much to bear, but the actor was already kissing him again, lips slanting sweetly along his own. When they broke apart for the second time, Dieter said it again, and then again, each time pairing a kiss with his words. Marcus thought maybe he would have kissed him a hundred times and then a hundred more, praise and adoration passed between them until the inevitable end of time caught up.

But then Dieter crowded in closer, kissing him with much more fervor, his intent clear. Hands scrambled as belts were tugged free and pants were pulled down, bodies twisting until Marcus was plastered to Dieter’s back. He slipped inside the broader man easily, still slick with his release from earlier. Dieter whined at the stretch, pressing back into Marcus, fingers curling around the edge of the bathroom counter as he began to beg.

“Hard, baby. Please.”

Marcus nipped at Dieter’s ear, refusing to move, the entire length of him buried to the hilt inside him. “How hard?”

“Hard,” Dieter begged again, squirming in Marcus’s tight grip. “Hard as you can. Need to feel you. F-feel so good.”

It was an intoxicating rush, reducing Dieter Bravo to stumbling pleas and wanton moans, and Marcus swore as long as he was able to pull air into his lungs he refused to take that feeling for granted. He pressed a soft kiss to Dieter’s skin and gently nudged his nose to the back of his head, coaxing his gaze up to meet Marcus’s in the mirror.

He dragged his hand up Dieter’s chest, stopping to feel the steady thump of his heart, one, two, three beats, before moving up to wrap his fingers around the other man’s throat. He whined again, writhing to and fro, the sound more pitiful with each passing second that Marcus refused to move.

“I’ve got you, mi cielo. I’ve got you,” he hummed the promise, pressing another kiss to Dieter’s sweat-damp curls. He squeezed the actor’s throat again, watching as his cock seemed to pulse in time with the action. He bit back his own groan, his own cock painfully hard where he was buried inside the other man.

“M-marcus…please…”

When he finally moved, it was slow, almost torturous for the both of them, but Marcus refused to be rushed. Not this time. Fuck any and everyone who dared to knock on that door. That dared to interrupt them. That dared to break between this moment. He pulled the other man closer, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other still gripping tight to his throat. Dieter’s hands were still scrambling, designer soaps and over-priced products falling to the floor as he seeked some sort of leverage. He finally found it, stonewashed denim bunching between his fingers as he dug them into Marcus’s forearms.

And only then did Marcus give into his request, snapping his hips as hard as he could, teeth sinking into the curve of Dieter’s neck. There would be bruises, bad ones, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too overwhelmed at the thought of marking the other man as his own. Dieter didn’t seem to mind either, begging Marcus again and again to give him everything he had.

“Want to feel it,” he sobbed, the pleasure just on the other side of pain. “Want to feel you when I’m gone. Please.”

“You will, baby. I promise,” Marcus growled. “You’ll feel me for days. You won’t forget me. P-please… don’t forget me.”

The admission fell out of Marcus before he could stop it, along with his own broken sobs to match. The pain and tears burst to life, the broken pieces he had hidden all over his body finding new life as he begged Dieter to take it all with him. Each slam of his hips and bruising touch of his hands. Every bite from his teeth and kiss from his lips. The words and the promises and the things neither of them knew how to say but felt all the same.

“Take me with you, Dee. Please, take me with you.”

“I will, sweet boy,” he gasped, his body shaking beneath Marcus’s anguished hands. “Sweet boy. Good boy. I promise.”

Dieter came first, though Marcus wasn’t sure how, his sobs and sighs of pleasure long past any sort of coherence. His cock twitched and pulsed, coming completely untouched. Marcus watched Dieter’s face break apart in the reflection of the mirror, his brown eyes wild and skin flushed, lips parting around a feral scream.

Marcus fell apart in kind, sparks of heat bursting at the base of his spine as tight velvet squeezed around him, Dieter’s voice in his ear, his jacket sticking to his skin. He spilled inside the other man, tears and spit and snot pressed into Dieter’s neck, little words of praise coaxing him through the brunt of it. Eventually, the tears turned to laughter, the two of them clinging tighter as they made guesses at how many people heard them.

��Either way, I hope they enjoyed the show because I sure did,” Dieter teased, nipping his teeth on the hinge of Marcus’s jaw.

They did a piss poor job of cleaning up, Dee’s cum barely wiped clean from the porcelain with a towel found below the counter, too high a thread count for something so filthy but neither man really gave two shits to look for an alternative. The products were tossed haphazardly into the sink, the idea of stacking them neatly ridiculous. They both agreed; you get what you ask for when you throw a party in the valley.

Marcus took better care when it came time to clean Dieter up. He warmed up the water from the sink as best he could, using that same fancy towel from before to wipe up the trickle of cum slipping slowly down his backside. He couldn’t stop from stealing one small indulgence, using his thumb to press some of himself back inside the other man, Dieter’s legs visibly shaking from the sudden stimulation. Marcus shushed him with a soft kiss to one of the many bite marks littered across his neck, humming out a quiet apology.

“Do they hurt?”

“They do,” Dieter grinned, tilting his chin to admire the marks as he tugged his jeans up over the swell of his ass. “I’m gonna need a few more before I get on that plane tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmm, definitely.”

Dieter pressed something hard into Marcus’s hand and when he looked down he could see it was his car keys, the silver teeth catching in the light.

“Take me home, sweet boy. I have plans for you.”

There was that word again, breathed out so easily, like a promise he knew he would keep.

Home.

#Marcus Moreno #Dieter Bravo #Marcus Moreno fic #Dieter Bravo fic #Marcus Moreno x Dieter Bravo #mlm #we can be heroes #the bubble #pedro pascal characters

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nicolethered · 8 months

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Pedro as Marcus Moreno in We Can Be Heroes (2020)

#pedro pascal #marcus moreno #we can be heroes #I put that one gif in there just for all you hand people #I think about y’all when I plan out my gifsets

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dancingtotuyo · 26 days

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12:32 PM (Marcus Moreno Drabble)

Rating: PG

Summary: Marcus likes to think he's moved on with life.

Tags/Warnings: Grief, loss of a spouse (Wife), fluff

Notes: Written off the prompt "I've always wondered why it had to be you" as an exercise with with some friends where we were assigned a prompt and Pedro boy and given 30 minutes to write. Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the divider!

Words: 700

Author Master List | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other Resources

Marcus goes every Thursday at 12:32 pm. Rain or Shine. Sleet or Snow. Sometimes when he was still the leader of The Heroics, he’d have to miss his standing date, but his watch would ding in reminder instead.

Now that he’s retired, he never misses it.

Every Thursday at 12:32 pm, Marcus visits Marissa Moreno’s grave with a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a tuna melt. The exact day and time he spotted her across the greasy spoon he frequented, favorite sandwich inches from his mouth. The exact moment his life changed forever.

He’d been young and arrogant at the time, twenty-two and ready to take the world by storm as the dashing young superhero he was. Marcus is confident, always has been, but the moment she came over and asked him if he needed a refill, his mouth went dry and he stumbled over his words like a damn fool. It was two months of tuna melts before he finally pulled it together enough to ask her out.

She had laughed, his favorite sound in the world, the prettiest music to his ears, and winked at him. “Took you long enough.”

Marcus never looked back after that. They got married a year to the day after he first saw her. They’d welcomed Missy into their lives a few years later, and life was perfect. A dream. Marcus knew he was the luckiest man in the world. He treasured his wife and daughter. He still does.

He still feels the sharp jab of pain in his heart every time he thinks back to that rainy Tuesday night.

“I’ll be back by 10.” She had smiled at him as she dropped her lipstick into her clutch. Mom’s night out. He’d made a good attempt to keep her home with sultry words and a kiss that required her to reapply her lipstick. Had he known it would be their last, he’d have never let her go.

She’d kissed Missy’s head, declared her love for both of them, and rushed out of the house. At ten o’clock, she wasn’t home. Marcus hadn’t been concerned at first. Then, the clock hit eleven. At twelve, her phone had gone straight to voicemail. Before he could call Christine, there was a knock at the door.

He caught the flash of police lights painting the walls of his home before he ever saw the police officers. He’d known. It felt like a dream sequence. He didn’t hear a word the officers said.

The next year of Marcus’s life had been like that. A living dream that to this day, he can only recall in blurs and flashes. Finally, one day he’d walked into that diner, sat in the same booth, and sobbed. His poor waitress. Apparently, it had been her first day. That had only made him cry more.

Marcus can’t tell you how long he cried in that diner. Only that it was daylight when he walked in and the black of night greeted him when he emerged.

He’s done better since then. He’s been better since, now 20 years removed from the night that took his wife from him.

He keeps her up to date on everything. His life, Missy’s life. He laughs over some trouble the twins got into and cries over the fact that she doesn’t get to be here for it. He tells her how much Missy reminds him of her in everything. Her mannerisms, her glow. She’s always been the bright shining, light leading him out of the darkness, just like her mother.

He likes to think he’s gotten past it and moved on with life. He doesn’t tell her how he wakes up missing her each morning, the sheets cool on her side of the bed, or that he still sets her coffee mug out on the table each morning. He tells her he’s okay, when deep down he doesn’t know if he ever will be again.

He sets a hand on top of the tombstone. The ache never dulls. Despite the countless times he’s said goodbye, the words always echo in his head with tears flicking in his eyes.

Why did it have to be her?

#marcus moreno #we can be heroes #marcus moreno fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro stories #pedrostories #ppcu fanfiction

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softiedingo · 6 months

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Marcus Moreno 🥺💖✨️

#jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #ppascaledit #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedropascal #pedropascaledit #we can be heroes #marcus moreno #ok but seriously #he was like #so fucking adorable #i really enjoyed the movie #because of him #marcus moreno made me have high expectations for any dilf I could find #my gifs #dingogifs #softiedingo

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loriane-elmuerto · 1 year

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WE CAN BE HEROES (2020)

THE LAST OF US 1.01 "When You're Lost In The Darkness" (2023)

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wardenparker · 1 year

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What Happens in Vegas, part 2

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.3k Warnings: Mentions of partner death and divorce, hurt/comfort, fertility issues/illness/pregnancy symptoms, if I ever write a story where Marcus doesn’t use his powers to undress his partner assume something is wrong with me, intimate piercings, oral sex (f and m receiving), soft!dom Marcus, fingering, a dash of praise kink, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex. Summary: It is time for honesty, as you and Marcus decide what your future will hold and how to mesh your lives together. Notes: We’ve had this one on the back burner for quite some time, and we’re so glad that it was finally time to break it out to share with you all! As always, thanks for reading and for being such lovely folx 🧡🧡 Part 1 is right Here!

Once in the safety of the elevator Marcus wraps his arms around you again, this time out of sheer protectiveness. All this insanity is centered around both of you, and he feels like maybe he can absorb some of the impact by keeping you bundled up. “That was...enlightening.” What else can he really say? “I guess there’s no real place to lay the blame.”

You snicker softly. “We can blame it on the alcohol.” You sigh, leaning some of your weight against Marcus. “We don’t– well, shit, I’m supposed to check out of my room today, so I guess we better check out this room they got us and have a talk.” You venture.

Marcus glances down at the room number written on the key and presses the corresponding number on the elevator's keypad. He doesn't let you out of his arms when you don't indicate that you want to step away, just leaning against the elevator wall with you leaning against him in turn. "You looked beautiful," he mumbles, not sure if he's even allowed to say that. "In your dress, I mean. I mean you always look beautiful, but the dress – it was good..." Ugh. He hates how he rambles when he gets nervous. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he gathers his words. "Last night. You looked beautiful last night."

You smile, remember how he had stumbled over his words when you and he were together. “Thank you. You looked very handsome. Still do.” You add since he is wearing the same suit as last night. “Although I’m sure you want to change into something more comfortable.”

"I would kill for jeans and a t-shirt," he admits, cracking a grin. "And a coffee. Not the watered-down crap they had downstairs. Real espresso. What are the odds this room they got us has a good coffeemaker in it?"

“50/50.” You quip, walking down the hall until you reach the door. “Or maybe….” The door is larger than the average door, looking like you’ve arrived to a suite instead of an average room. Marcus inserts the key and the door swings open. “Oh God, they’ve gotten us the honeymoon suite.” You breathe out when you step inside and glance around.

There's an absurd amount of rose petals strewn around, an ice bucket holding champagne, and a tray of chocolate covered strawberries right there when you walk in the door. There's a coffee table further into the room laden with all kinds of trinkets that the hotel must leave out for every couple that rents the room. A banner in Susan's handwriting reads Congratulations Mr and Mrs Moreno! and has been signed by all of the people who were in the chapel with you in the video. "Well I'm glad they're getting a kick out of this," Marcus grumbles, his ears burning.

“It’s sweet.” You acknowledge, sighing and wishing for a moment that this was real. “I–” you are nervous about bringing it up but it needs to be addressed. “What do you want to do, Marcus?” You ask softly. “Obviously I don’t think you would have done this sober, so, I’m not going to hold you to this– this– whatever this is.” You choke on the words, but keep your voice steady.

"You sound like you want to stay married." The observation has him hesitating, standing in the mass of flower petals on the rug and looking over at you like it's prom night and you've just come down the stairs in that light blue and silver dress you loved because the beads reminded you of snow. He can feel how soft his expression is despite how wide his eyes have blown. He had never for a minute considered the idea that this was something you might have actually wanted.

You give him a sad smile, not wanting to bring up your past. “What I want doesn’t matter.” You insist, looking over at the window so you don’t see the rejection in his eyes. “This wasn’t something that was planned out and I’ll understand.” You promise, thinking about how this could completely upset his life.

“It absolutely does matter.” Marcus insists. Pieces of last night are starting to fall into place, along with some of this morning. It’s only a few paces for him to be standing next to you, with one hand gently touching your arm. “I texted my daughter last night. I told her what was happening. So it’s not like this is something that we’re just going to sweep under the rug.” Taking the risk on stepping around you, he puts one crooked finger under your chin and makes you meet his eyes. “Whatever happens, we’re going to decide on it together, okay? Which means we have to be honest with each other.”

“Oh god? Your daughter? She must be freaking out.” Your eyes fill with panic and you squeeze them shut. “I’m so sorry Marcus. I shouldn’t have– this is–” You break off with a soft sob as you imagine how much his daughter must hate you. “Just–” You sigh. “Wanting to marry you was never a question for me. But you–I understand. I wasn’t it for you.”

“C’mere.” Marcus opens his arms, enveloping you in a full body bear hug. He trusts his instincts, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.” He says after a pause. Once of his hands runs up and down your back in a steady rhythm. “I’m sorry I was bad at explaining things to you. But we were 19 and I didn’t know how to tell you how confused I was.” This is somehow easier without looking you in the eyes, but it seems dishonest so he pulls away to look down at you. “I had every intention of marrying you.” The truth, out loud, after so many years makes him feel like even more of an asshole. “I didn’t plan on meeting her. I didn’t know she was out there. But...you’re the only two women I’ve ever loved. Just you two.” Come on, Marcus. Spit it out. “Then...I saw an article about you in a newspaper last year. And then you were on a talk show. I found your website. You were everywhere again and I realized how much I missed you. Not just...not just missed having a person. I missed you. So please don’t think I don’t care about you.”

It both broke your heart and helped mend it knowing that Marcus had been going to marry you. You knew that the heart wants what the heart wants as the old saying goes. Letting out a shuddering sigh, your body relaxes against him and your arms come around his waist hesitantly. Marcus was a good and honorable man, had been when he was a teenager. Of course the idea of falling in love with someone else had probably confused and terrified him. For so many years the idea had been set in stone that you were each other's person, that someone new had knocked him on his ass. From everything you had read about her, she was a wonderful woman who had loved Marcus and their daughter. A candle in the wind that had been blown out too early. “I– after your wife....passed, I–” You bite your lip and wonder if he's going to hate you for this, having wanted to do something, anything to help but wanting to respectfully keep your distance. "I was the one that had those meals delivered to your house." You confess softly. You knew from when your parents had passed that people brought more food than you could deal with right after they heard or to the reception following the funeral. Well meaning and heartfelt, but after that, their lives went back to normal while you tried to figure out exactly what your new normal was. Marcus Moreno's wife dying had been front page news nationwide, and you had hated that he was left to flounder with a seven year old. So you had quietly arranged to have meals delivered to their house for a while starting a few days after the funeral, asking them not to say who was the silent donor.

“Oh...” The word punches out of him and for a second he’s that heartbroken young version of himself that had discovered the meals and cried over them in his kitchen every time, wondering who had been so generous. Over the years, he had had many theories as to who had sent them, but it never would have occurred to him that it was you. “I always...” He pauses the thought, getting emotional all over again. “Those were a lifesaver. I had a hard time getting used to doing everything myself and... having one less thing on my plate made a huge difference.” His forehead drops to lean against yours, eyes momentarily closed so he doesn’t tear up. That wouldn’t help the situation at all. “Thank you.”

Your arms tighten around him, relieved that he hadn't taken your gesture the wrong way. "You're welcome." You whisper, not wanting to add anything more to that. It hadn't been for the recognition or for him to feel in some way in your debt, but you couldn't keep a secret like that from him when you both were trying to decide what to do about your current situation. "I never actually said it, but I'm so sorry for your loss, Marcus." You murmur quietly, the words muffled against the fabric of his suit, the same suit that he had married you in. You feel better, now that you've had this heart to heart. Even if Marcus didn't want to stay married to you, after all you were virtual strangers after twenty years apart, you felt like this wasn't something that you would regret. Old wounds and self doubts from that time had vanished, leaving your heart less scared than it had been and for that you would be grateful.

This time when Marcus sighs, it’s with a slight shiver and a mile’s worth of confusion. “What are we going to do?” He asks. Honestly he has no idea. He doesn’t regret sleeping with you again, but he’s guilt ridden at the idea that you’ve been forced into something so life changing. He’ll straighten things out with Missy once you’ve managed to talk things through here. The idea that you might actually want this is seeping slowly into his bones and he has a voice in the back of his head that says he doesn’t deserve any kind of relationship with you since he broke your heart.

"The obvious choice would be to quietly get divorced." You pull away and turn, kicking off the heels you had worn as you walk over to the window. You didn't want to see the relief in Marcus's face when you are the one to propose it. He had skirted around it but was too much of a gentleman to be the one to voice it first. He had even said something about you keeping the ring before you ever knew it wasn't a joke. "I– surely this has happened plenty of times. Maybe they would even allow an annulment since we were obviously far more intoxicated than we should have been." You look out over the lights of the Vegas strip and blink back the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I'm not going to force you to stay married to me, you don't deserve that."

“You keep saying that like being married to you would be the worst thing in the world.” He protests, and all of a sudden it hits him like a freight train. He’s been trying to get you to say you want him, and he hadn’t really realized it. He hasn’t jumped on the idea of a divorce at all since it’s been brought up because he’s missed you. Miracle Guy is always saying that you don’t say anything drunk that you don’t feel when you’re sober and Marcus hates that his annoying best friend might be completely right this time. “What if we tried it?” He asks quietly. Almost afraid of what he’s saying but at the same time resolved to see what you think of this idea. “I mean...I don’t know where you’re living right now or anything like that...there’s logistics and stuff. But...what if?”

Your eyes are wide when you whirl around to face him, shock written on your face. "Wha— are you kidding?" You ask, praying that he isn't but then again, this is Marcus. He wouldn't joke around about something as serious as this. "Would you want that?" You ask quietly. "Not so there isn't a press release or to save face, but do you want to stay married? To me?" You bite your lip, feeling like you are naked in front of the entire world rather than trying to admit how you feel to one man, but this is the man that you have loved for your entire life. "I–I moved on, dated plenty, fell in love, got married." You need him to know that this hasn't just been about him, that you've had a life outside of him and the day he broke your heart. "Got divorced, but I've always kept you in my heart. I never hated you or stopped loving you."

“We’ve both had our own lives.” He agrees, taking one careful step toward you. He doesn’t want to spook you, but he also doesn’t want to shout this conversation between you across the living room of your suite. “Maybe this is the universe telling us that now we should be having a life together.” He believed in fate wholeheartedly, believing that fate brought his late wife into his path and Missy into their lives when they had struggled so hard to get pregnant. Fate’s hand was here, too. “You were my first love, and you’ve always had a place in my heart. Maybe...” Marcus takes one more careful step. “We said we loved each other on that video. Which means we must have talked about it. And...marriage is about communication and honesty as well as love.”

You watch his eyes, solemn and serious behind his glasses as he watches you. Gauging your reaction to his thoughts. Nodding, you yield, taking your own measured step towards him. "I wish I could remember what we said. I'm sure it would help if I could just know what we said to each other." You sigh, confessing your one hang up to all of this. "I just– I don't want to compete with her memory, Marcus." You whisper, struggling to keep your eyes on his. "I can't do that. I don't want to do that. It's not fair to me, or to you." He had reminded you it was about communication and honesty and you were laying your cards on the table.

Marcus feels himself nod, knowing you are completely right. But at the same time, there was a flip side to that coin. “And I don’t want to be competing with the memories you have of me.” It felt odd to say out loud. That your memories of him were different than the man he is now, even if he was still so similar to who he had been there in many ways. “You’re...you’re so amazing. You always have been and from what I know about you now, you’re doing great work and really succeeding. You’re not second to anyone. Not to me.” With one more step forward, he reaches out to take your hand. This is becoming so real with every passing second and his heart is pounding in his ears. “If we do this, it would be about who we are now. Memories are memories and that’s great, but I don’t want to get caught up in the fact that things turned out differently than we expected.”

You nod, understanding his point completely. "Still so smart." You murmur, inching closer and reaching up with your free hand to cup his cheek. You sigh when his eyes flutter at the contact and your pinkie sweeps over the stubble on his jaw. "I want to do this...if you do." You admit, your gaze focusing on his lips again and you want to kiss him. "I want to stay married to you and make this work. I want to be with you."

For Marcus, the scariest part of this wasn’t waking up this morning beside you, or how mad you had been in the beginning, or how upset with all of your old friends he is. It’s admitting to himself that he would be sad if you walked away from him. That the shock of everything was actually surpassed by how happy it is making him. How his tipsy texts to Missy were filled with so much hope, and despite her understandable confusion, she was doing what she could to be supportive. He would have to call her later and explain everything, but right now you’re right in front of him, telling him you care – and this time his head is spinning without the hangover. “You’re okay with being a stepmom?” He hears himself ask, cursing himself for ruining the moment but knowing this was the nail in the coffin. If you aren’t okay with his daughter, then this has no chance of working.

Your brow furrows and you know he sees the sorrow in your eyes. You hope he doesn't mistake it for not wanting to be a stepmom. "I– my ex and I tried for years to have kids." You admit quietly, remembering the heartbreak when you got your period every month. "It was the reason that we got divorced, he – he wanted kids and I couldn't give them to him." Your breath catches. "I don't – I've always wanted kids but I won't try to take over her mother’s place. Stepmom would be fine." You bite your lip and try to keep it from trembling. "I can't give you another baby though, are you– can you live with that?"

“I’m so sorry,” is the first thing he says, tugging you into his arms. He remembers how hard it was to try and try and feel like the world was against them for almost two years. “That must have been hell.” When he leans back to press a kiss to your forehead, he’s smiling a reassuring smile. “I don’t need anything else.” He tells you softly. “I just want you.”

Your doubts fall away, everything that had kept you from really believing that this was happening was gone. Your fingers curl into the hair at the base of his neck. "Marcus, " you look up at him and smile. "Kiss me. Please." You beg, wanting to remember this kiss that wasn't for show, wasn't for anyone else but the two of you.

“With pleasure,” his smile turns into a giddy grin. “Mrs. Moreno.” There’s no hesitation in the kiss - one hand reeling you in to him by your waist and the other tipping your chin back ever so slightly so he can taste you as soon as you open up to him.

You can't help but moan, your mouth opening and a whimper slipping out when his tongue flutters against yours. Your hands slide up to his back, fingers digging into the fabric while you try to get as close to him as you possibly can. Your entire body ignites, and you feel that pull of need.

Marcus echoes your moan, pulling you up in his arms until the only way to get physically closer is to be inside you - which is bringing his body back to life in all sorts of delicious ways. He’s fairly certain there’s a sofa behind him and takes a chance that he’s right - walking you back two steps until he tips backward with just enough warning to pick you up off your feet so you land on his lap. No one could ever say he doesn’t know how to use his strength to his advantage.

Your dress rides up your thighs, letting you straddle him easier. Making you shudder when his hands are warm on your bare skin. Your arms wind around his neck and you lift up to your knees so you can press closer, holding the back of his head while you give in to the kiss and groaning when his hands squeeze your flesh. "Marcus," you mumble against his lips, your tongue licking into his mouth and your cunt throbbing with need. "I want– fuck, I need you." You pull your mouth away from his and start kissing along his jaw. One hand coming back around him and sliding down his chest to reach between the two of you and your fingers find his belt. "I want to remember this."

Tangling one of his hands in yours to stop your eager pulling at his belt, Marcus wraps his lips around your pulse, sucking on your skin and nipping at it, tongue soothing away the sting. "Let me take care of you," he insists. It's not that he doesn't want to be inside you right fucking now, it's that he's not going to have sex with his wife for the first time (that he remembers) on a sofa. His free hand lifts from its grip on your hip and flexes, making him grin cheekily when you gasp at the feeling of your dress being unzipped without his hands on you. Katanas weren't the only metal he ever used his powers on. Reveling in your surprise, Marcus takes an extra second of concentration to undo the metal clasp of your bra as well. His eyes tip up to yours, blown black with anticipation and lust.

"That's new." You giggle, even more turned on by that move. Marcus hadn't tried his powers on you when you were younger. His mother cautioned him to not abuse his powers and his sometimes lack of control over them had made him wary of trying manipulate your clothing. He grins and winks at you, making you whimper at the self assuredness he has come to possess. "Jesus." You pant, wondering if he remembers that one little detail about you that was so different from when you were together the first time. He would find out soon enough you supposed, and hoped that he wasn't too shocked by it. You had definitely gone through a wild phase in college, but you didn't regret it.

He’d have time to be pleased with himself later, right now he cared much more about the way you were subtly grinding down in his lap, making him harder with every passing second. “Shit, sweetheart.” He huffs, bucking up against you before he can stop himself. His hands skim under the bunched hen of your dress, nudging the material. His powers nudge at him a little and he dismisses it as a reminder of your dress’s zipper, but the feeling is coming from somewhere different. Marcus quirks one eyebrow at you, intrigued by your expression of amusement, and pulls your dress over your head - tossing it and your bra several feet away. “Jesus, hermosa!” He groans, his hands immediately coming up to cup your breasts, mesmerized by the piercings he definitely did not remember being there before. How he didn’t remember them last night, he doesn’t know. “How do you keep getting hotter?”

You smirk, loving the awe that is in his eyes as he stares at the hoops in your nipples. “You like?” You tease, feeling how much he likes them from the way that his hips bucked up again when you arched into his touch, pushing your tits into his hands harder. “I got them in college– after we –” You weren’t going to keep feeling embarrassed about your past, or trying to deny it. “Took my clit piercing out because my ex hated it, but I couldn’t get rid of these.” You admit, remembering how he had hated them, refused to touch your tits when you had them in. But it was for you, not him, and you had stubbornly refused to give in to his wants.

Marcus almost pouts over the fact that he was losing out on playing with a clit piercing, but when he trains his eyes on your tits and watches you writhe with pleasure as he twists the little hoops with his powers, he’s so hard it doesn’t matter anymore. “Need to taste you,” he mumbles into your skin, tongue laving over your nipples where he’s been playing with them. Marcus lifts you off his lap, turning a little to settle you down in the pile of throw pillows on the sofa. “Will you let me taste you, hermosa?”

You moan, his fingers curling under your panties and you nod, lifting your hips up so that he can drag them down your thighs. You spread your legs wider, modesty and being shy throw out the window. You bite your lip and squirm, your own hands on your breasts while Marcus rocks back, hastily shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it down on the floor with no thought. “Fuck you look pretty like that.” He groans, flicking the buttons of his shirt open and taking off his glasses to toss on the floor, hopefully to not get crushed later on. You whine, needing him to hurry up and you let go of one of your breasts to slide it down to your mound, circling your clit with your fingers while you watch him strip.

“Nuh-uh,” Marcus grabs your hand, pulling your fingers away from your clit and licks them clean with a stern look on his face. “Only I get to touch and taste you right now.” He tells you and revels in your moan. Positioning your ankles on the edge of the couch, he takes in your spread-open pussy with a lascivious smirk. “So fucking pretty,” he praises before leaning down and sucking your clit into his mouth.

Your hips jerk up and a squeal breaks free at the insistent feel of his mouth. Control looks so fucking sexy on Marcus. The fumbling boy that was asking if what he was doing was okay was gone, replaced by a man who was confident in his ability to please. You squeeze your breast and moan when his tongue flicks over the sensitive bundle of nerves, closing your eyes. Only for them to spring back open in shock when he pulls his mouth away and lightly slaps your folds. "Eyes on me, baby." His lust-rough voice makes you shiver and you meet his satisfied gaze, making him quirk his eyebrows, pleased at your obedience before he puts his mouth back on you.

Part of Marcus had been slightly concerned that the more dominant style of pleasure he’d adopted since knowing you wouldn’t be something you enjoyed, but from the way you are panting and mewling above him as he spears his tongue as deep into you as he can manage, he knows now that it’s more than welcome. He hums his approval into your folds, his nose intentionally bumping against your clit with every stroke of his tongue. He could look up at you like this forever – shivering and shuddering but keeping your eyes on him like he ordered. “Don’t even think about cumming until I tell you.” He punctuates the sentence by driving two fingers deep inside you, sliding along your tight folds gripping him so well that he moans along with you.

You whimper and try to grind your hips down on him, but he throws his free arm around your hips and jerks them up high, practically holding your ass up while he utterly destroys you with his mouth. Pleas and praises fall from your lips as you try to stave off your impending orgasm. "Oh God, oh fuck Marcus." You whine, watching him pump his fingers into your fluttering cunt and his nose is pressed against the neatly trimmed hair above your clit. "So good, so fucking good." Your walls clench around him and you squeal again when he curls his fingers up. "Oh please, God – I'm so close." You ramble, scratching at the couch and trying to keep from cumming so hard that your thighs are starting to shake. "Please baby, please let me cum."

It’s the first of what he intends to be many orgasms today, so he eases a third finger into you and watches your face contort for a second before nibbling on your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me baby. Wanna drown in this taste. In you.”

His permission given, you fly off the cliff and wail his name while your walls clamp down on his fingers. Flooding them with your juices and your entire body humming in pleasure while he keeps sucking on you. Making stars burst behind your eyes, you can't help but squeeze them shut and tilt your head back against the cushions while you thrash around in pleasure and make so much noise you are sure that there will be a noise complaint coming soon.

There are few things, in Marcus Moreno’s opinion, better than having a woman cum in his mouth. Something made even better by the fact that he knows he’ll have your scent lingering in his mustache for the rest of the day. He curls his fingers against that perfect spongy spot inside you and hums in delight as your second orgasm follows the first without warning. Hearing you scream his name might be the most musical sound he’s heard in a very long time. “Listen to you,” his voice is like honey. “Screaming my name for everybody to hear. Now they know you belong to me.”

He takes pity, taking his mouth off of you and slipping his fingers out to let you calm down while he savors the flood of your juices on his fingers, alternately kissing the insides of your thighs while he coos praises from where he kneels on the floor.

Your cunt throbs and your walls flutter around nothing now that he's pulled his fingers from you, the low sigh that you let out sounding as boneless as you feel. Your entire body relaxes with your eyes turning heavy and slipping closed from how good you feel. "Oh God." You whisper, reaching down and carding your fingers through his hair and lifting your head so you can look down at him. "I want– no, I need you inside me." You beg, looking over at the bed that was so beautifully set with rose petals. "Please, I want my husband to make love to me."

Marcus’s lips curl into a smile, much gentler than he had been a second ago and he stands up, cock red and weeping from neglect, hard as diamonds as it bobs a few inches from your face. He sees the hungry look in your eyes and shakes his head slightly – instead leaning down to scoop you up in his arms and carry you over to the bed. Marcus has absolutely no desire to pull back the covers, laying you down on top of the rose petals like a beautiful gift. He sighs, loving the sight of you like that, devastated and shaken from intense orgasms but beaming at him at the same time. “I love you,” he tells you, crawling up on the bed between your legs as they open for him. “I’m glad our classmates meddled. And I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you, sweetheart.”

You reach for him, your arms wrapping around his back, so much broader than the last time you remember him being over you like this. His body no longer lean and wiry with youth, but broad and filled out deliciously with age. “I love you.” You whisper, your heart beating like a drum in your chest from happiness. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” You assure him, leaning up to kiss him and drag him back down over you. Wanting the weight of him on top of you. “Want you to fuck me… husband.”

“So impatient when I’m trying to be romantic,” the chuckle comes from deep inside him, the same rough, lusty place that had him taking his cock in his cum slick hand, and pumping a few times before sliding the head through your folds. “So wet for me,” he groans, happy to know he was the one who had made you that way. “You ready for me, good girl?”

"Yes." You whine out, eager to feel him stretch you out again. You know you had him last night, but you didn't remember more than a few flashes of memories and the ache you had felt when you woke up. You cup his cheek and watch his face when he starts to slowly push inside you. Your own mouth falling open with a needy moan filling the air while your walls give to accommodate him, making your hips lift slightly to make sure that every inch of him is inside you when his hips are flush against your own.

“ Fuck,” he bites out the curse as he bottoms out inside you, knowing he looks as absolutely wrecked as he feels just from being inside you again. “So tight, hermosa. So tight around my cock.” The authoritative voice from a few minutes ago rumbles from his core as he lifts one of your legs up onto his shoulder, watching your mouth drop open even wider. He draws back again until only his tip is still inside you, snapping his hips back against yours with a pleased grunt, and then again to hear you moan. “That’s it, baby.” He leans down to kiss you, greedily drinking down every sound you make.

He's so fucking deep inside you. Making you feel like he's pushing up into your stomach and rearranging your insides with every hard thrust. You love it, love how he's not being gentle even though you know he's holding back. Now fully aware of why you ached for hours after you woke up, you wanted to feel that way again. Loving how much he had changed over the years and it makes you crave to find out every way that he differed from the boy you knew. You gasp out on his next thrust. "Oh god!" You cry out when he changes the angle of his hips and hits directly against your g-spot.

Marcus focuses on that spot, loving the way you call out and wanting you to cum one more time for him before he lets his restraint snap. He knows he’s different in bed than he had been when you knew him - no longer worried about being enough or whether or not he was reading your body correctly. He knew he was stronger now, more confident, and a better lover; and he was careful to keep himself in check so he wouldn’t go too hard this time. He nips and sucks at every bit of skin he can reach as the sound of skin smacking against skin fills the room. Unable to resist, Marcus focuses just enough of his powers on those little hoops through your perfect nipples to make them hum and vibrate, shoving you closer to the edge.

“M-Mar-cus!” You cry out, the very air being pushed from your lungs every time he drives deep inside you. Your fingernails dig into his skin, leaving crescent shaped marks in his flesh and you clench down on him when he moans. “Yes, yes, yes!” You scream out when your entire world shatters and the subatomic explosion in your core radiates white hot and all-consuming as you come apart for him.

He grunts, held so tight by the way that you’re clamping down on him that he can barely move and it’s absolutely delicious. Marcus makes one more thrust before he’s groaning your name and painting your still-spasming walls with his seed. He drops his head against your shoulder, panting and wonderfully spent.

Your leg slides down off his shoulder and you let it wrap around his hip while your hand glides up and down his back. The touch is soothing - his skin under your fingers and as you relearn the planes of his back. “I love you.” You whisper, holding him close and enjoying the weight of him on top of you.

“I love you too,” he breathes a kiss on your lips, running one hand up and down your side. The contours of your body have changed as you got older and he is determined to memorize your body as soon as possible. “Don’t want to crush you,” he murmurs into your kiss, shifting his body off of you but tugging you close to his side as he lays down.

You sigh and roll over with him. Resting your head on his shoulder and stroke his chest gently. “So, I have to admit, I never expected this to happen at the reunion.” You giggle, unable to believe that this is real.

“I don’t think anyone did.” He agrees, but laughs. “Well, maybe Susan.” He plants a kiss on the top of your head before lifting himself off the mattress and padding off to the bathroom for a damp wash cloth to clean you up. When he re-emerges he has the bottle of champagne in hand as well.

You giggle again and raise your eyebrow at him. “Ready to drink already?” You ask playfully, making him snort in amusement. “At some point we are going to have to pack up our old rooms to check out.” You remind him.

“And I have to call Missy.” Marcus nods his head, disappointed to have to come back to reality. “She’s fantastic,” he assures you, squeezing your hand and kissing your palm. “You’re going to love her. And she’ll love you. But drunk texts from your dad are no way to find out he’s in a relationship.”

“No it’s not.” You agree, standing up with a groan and taking the wash cloth so you can quickly clean up. “How about I get dressed and go pack up my room so you can have some privacy to talk to your daughter?” You ask, knowing that he would probably want to be alone for that conversation.

“Hurry back?” He’s pouting and he doesn’t care.

You smirk and lean in to kiss him once more. “I will. You will need to pack up your room too.” You remind him before you pull away to walk over to where your clothes had been flung.

“I’ll do it after I talk to Missy,” he promises. It takes a minute or two for him to track down his pants and find the room key, holding the spare hostage until you pay the ransom of three more kisses. “And then we’re gonna be naked for the rest of the day.”

You hum, smiling against his lips as you pluck the card from his fingers. “So I guess that means you don’t want to see the lingerie I brought just in case I got lucky?” You murmur.

“Minx.” He teases, but that fire is back in his eyes. “Put it on before I get back.”

You smirk and walk to the door. "Sure thing baby." You tease, winking at him before you open the door and disappear down the hallway.

******

In the weeks since returning from his reunion, Marcus had done his fair share of groveling. Missy had been at her abuela's while he was away and both of them were (understandably) fiercely upset with him for the way things happened. It was two full weeks before Missy stopped being mad at him, and only then had his mother agreed to be the one to host everyone for dinner. She had loved you when you and Marcus were teens and was glad to see that you were the one who was making him happy again. The night you'd all had dinner together she made ropa vieja and the biggest pot of rice and beans that Marcus had seen in years, and he knew exactly how glad she was to see you - your favourite foods laid out on the table for everyone to enjoy.

You'd agreed that you would keep your apartment until the end of the month, giving Missy time to adjust to you being around the house. She had warmed up to you quickly, finding you much more entertaining company than her dad for any number of things. She had even helped you unpack when you moved into the house with them after leaving your apartment.

These days Missy could be spotted teaching you her favourite cookie recipe and raiding your jewelry box some days before school. It warmed Marcus's heart to see the two of you bonding, relieving him in equal measure.

******

"You know, I'm so glad dad doesn't cook breakfast anymore." Missy rolls her eyes and you snicker conspiratorially. You love this little girl like she is your own. She's an easy girl to love and you are so thankful that it worked out that she doesn't hold your intrusion in her life against you.

“You aren't telling me that your dad is a bad cook, are you?" You ask, arching your eyebrow at him while you whisk the eggs for the omelets.

She rolls her eyes again. "Dad burned everything! We once ate mac and cheese for breakfast because that was all he could make without messing up."

"I do not burn everything!" Marcus has a very serious look on his face. "I would never, ever burn bacon."

You laugh and lean back, tilting your head so that Marcus can kiss you. "Mmmm." You smile against his lips and pull away so he can move past you. "Okay maybe not bacon but cracking eggs down the sink and throwing the shells in a bowl, Marcus?" You giggle, watching him flush and rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"That was one time!" he pouts, embarrassed. Missy was never going to let him live that down. "And that was a very stressful day, thank you very much." He shuffles over to the coffee pot when it dings, grateful to have a distraction. The smell is divine, those beans you love had turned his morning cup into something divine from the perfunctory wake-up it had been before. "Big mug or little, babe?" He asks you, pulling spoons out of the drawer and his favourite mug out of the cupboard.

"Little." You answer, your stomach feeling queasy. "I'm still not feeling one hundred percent." You admit, hating that you had this stomach bug that you couldn't seem to get over. You had been sick over the weekend and had put a damper on your plans and you were still feeling guilty over it.

Marcus still hadn't said anything about you not feeling well. He had tucked you in and gotten you plain things to eat and drink, letting you rest until you felt better. He dared to hope that he knew what was wrong - recognizing the little signs from years ago. He got out a little mug, fixed your coffee for you and slipped the mug down the counter, watching you carefully. "If you're still not feeling well maybe you should go to the doctor?" He suggests gently. A doctor would be able to confirm or squash his idea immediately, but he wouldn't push you.

You shake your head. "No, I don't need to go to the doctor." You’re still stubborn about seeing doctors after all those appointments that your ex had forced you to go to. It made you anxious for any type of clinical setting. You give Marcus a soft smile, and pick your cup up. "Thank you, sweetheart." You thank him as you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip. As soon as the hot beverage hits your lips your gag. Your stomach rolling and you drop the mug, shattering on the edge of the counter and you cover your mouth, running for the half bathroom that was down the hallway.

Marcus shifts gears quickly, grabbing a rag to scoop up the broken stoneware and toss the whole bundle in the trash. "Be right back," he tells Missy, hurrying down the hall after you.

He finds you bent over the toilet for the fourth time in four days and kneels down next to you to make sure there's no hair in your face or clothing soiled. "Babe?" His eyes betray how worried he is, but he tries not to show it on his face. "Was it the coffee?"

"Oh God." You moan, hanging your head and mouth waters again at just the mention of the coffee. "Did the creamer go bad?" You ask, cursing the fact that your stomach was so queasy and you couldn't shake this bug. You retch again, but luckily you hadn't eaten anything else so there wasn't anything more to come up.

"I brought it home yesterday." He runs his hand up and down your back, soothing and supportive. "I didn't want anything old in the house, just in case."

You pant, nodding while you reach up weakly and pull the handle for the toilet so the coffee and bile from your stomach start to flush down, resting your head and on your arm for a second before you look up at your husband. "I'm so sorry. I know this is annoying to deal with." You whisper, hating that he is having to take care of you.

"It's not." Marcus promises. Stepping away for just a second, he wets a washcloth with warm water and offers it to you to clean up. He's learned over the past few days that keeping a washcloth and your toothbrush nearby was a very good idea. "Don't apologize, love. But...I do think it might be more than a bug." He hates how much he hopes he's right. You had talked about it. It wasn't something in your plans. You had told him it was impossible. But he couldn't help but hope you might actually be pregnant.

You frown and immediately jump to the worst possible conclusion. "Cancer?" You whisper, your eyes widen, and you pray God wouldn't be so cruel as to do this to Marcus.

"No, baby." Marcus has to stop himself from laughing at how you went straight to the other side of the illness spectrum. He presses a kiss to your hair, breathing out slowly. "I think you might be pregnant."

You rear back, your frown fierce and you step out of his arms. "Marcus, I– we talked about this." You tell him flatly, trying not to raise your voice. Anger and sorrow swirling inside you. "I can't have kids, so I can't be pregnant." Your jaw sets and you look at him warily. "I knew– God, I knew that this would happen." You mumble.

Marcus sets himself down on the tile next to you, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. "I don't have my hopes up." A blatant lie. He absolutely does have his hopes up. "And I don't think it's likely," at least that was true. "But...I've been through this before, with Missy. I remember what it looks like. And I know not all pregnancies look the same, but humour me." His smile is soft, trying to be encouraging and as supportive as possible. "I'll go down to the store and grab a test. When it comes up negative like you think it will, we'll drop it and I'll give you foot rubs all night to apologize for even thinking it. Is that a deal?”

You want to say no. Want to scream that you've taken enough tests for a lifetime and cried enough tears when every single one of them came back negative. The doctors had never been able to tell you why you couldn't get pregnant, just that it wasn't happening. Of course it had caused some horrible arguments that had eventually led to your divorce. However, Marcus isn't your ex, and you see nothing but worry in his eyes. So you find yourself nodding, biting your lip as you agree. "Okay." You tell him quietly, feeling him squeeze your hand gently.

"Okay." He sighs with relief that you're willing to take the test, knowing that it's a hard thing for you to agree to. He helps you up off the floor, staying with you while you brush your teeth, and then tucks you into the couch with the remote in your hand before he heads out. Missy has already put the eggs and veggies from the forgotten omelets back in the fridge and gotten herself a bowl of cereal. "I'll be right back," he tells both of you, grabbing his jacket and wallet from the sideboard by the front door. "Don't burn the house down while I'm gone."

"Bye dad!" Missy calls out sarcastically. She finishes her cereal and comes out to the living room with you. Obviously worried from the way that she keeps looking over at you. Picking at the edge of the armchair she was sitting in; you can see that she's wanting to ask you what's wrong. "I'm okay sweetie. You can get ready for school. The bus should be here soon." You remind her, glancing at the clock on the DVR.

“You sure?” Missy has come around to you faster than she expected to, learning to like having you as part of her day and fully appreciating that home cooked meals are actually pretty good now. She’s been up front about the fact that she’s not ready to call you mom, and you’ve promised her she never has to if she’s not comfortable with it. She calls you by your name, and just the fact that you’re not trying to force yourself on her has made all the difference in the world. What happened was kinda screwed up, but it’s turning out okay.

"I'm sure." You assure her, giving her a small smile. Missy grins, reassured, and hops up. "Okay! I have to get ready for the audition today."

You sit up a little straighter and call up the stairs as she thunders up them. "I want to hear all about it when you get home!" You call out. "And we'll make cookies!"

******

When Marcus gets back from the store he has a little bag with him – your favorite M&Ms and a bottle of that raspberry tea you love sitting alongside the box of pregnancy tests. “Missy got to the bus stop on time?” He asks, having just missed her.

"Yes, she did." You smile, remembering her exuberant goodbye as she raced out the door. "She was excited for her audition, and I promised we would make cookies when she gets home." You know you are probably spoiling her by baking nearly every day after school, but she loves it and it’s good bonding time for the two of you. Plus, the Heroics love when Marcus brings in the leftovers every morning. You catch sight of the bag and look up at him nervously. "Marcus..."

“I know.” He bobs his head apologetically. He knows this is hard for you. You’ve talked it out before while you explained things that had caused you anxiety with your ex. Marcus had been determined never to touch a single one of those things, but he could feel it in his bones that he was right. “I...um...when I was at the store. I realized...you haven’t had your period since we got married. So even if this comes up negative and I give you apology foot rubs until the end of time, I think we should see a doctor anyway. In case something is wrong.” He pulls out the M&Ms and holds them out flat in his palms to you like a sacrifice. “Please don’t be mad at me. I just want to take care of you.”

You give him an amused smile, taking the M&Ms gratefully. "I know you do." You admit, knowing he is nothing like your ex. He had never made you think he was upset by you not being able to have kids, so you had realized your fear was purely out of instinct. "I'm not upset at you, I promise." You sigh and throw the blanket off your legs, getting up and cupping his cheek. "I just don't want you to be disappointed."

Marcus smiles, a little lopsided, and pulls you up into his arms. “How could I ever be disappointed when I have you for my wife?”

You laugh, comforted by the fact that your husband always seems to know what to say to put you at ease. "I guess it's a good thing that I have to pee." You joke, holding out your hand for the box. "Are you going to want to be in the bathroom while I do this?" You ask, tilting your head at him curiously.

“If that’s okay with you.” He presses a kiss to your cheek.

You nod. "Okay, sweetheart. How about we go upstairs to our bathroom, rather than crowding into the hall bath again."

“Anywhere you’re more comfortable.” With your hand in his, Marcus takes the stairs one by one right beside you. “Tea to make you pee?” He giggles at his own stupid rhyme, holding out the bottle of tea. God, he just wants you to be okay. No matter what the outcome was.

You giggle even as you roll your eyes, taking the bottle of tea. “You are such a dork.” You tease him, making him scrunch his nose up and lean in to kiss you when you reach the top of the stairs.

“But I’m your dork.” He argues, making you smile.

“Yes you are my dork.” You kiss him again and sigh. “Let’s get this over with. My bladder is starting to scream at me.”

You’re past the awkward stage of being in the bathroom together, and Marcus perches himself on the counter beside the sink while you take the test. “It’s just peace of mind,” he reminds you. “There’s a bug going around Missy’s school and that might be all it is. This is just checking one possible cause off the list.” He’s rambling and trying to be as kind as he can, not letting silence linger so you can’t sink into bad memories. He never wants any pressure between you, and he knows he signed up for no more kids. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be thrilled if it turned out to be true, but it means he’s not expecting it.

You know why he is talking so much, and you appreciate it. Although it’s not necessary. Once the test is sitting on the back of the toilet, you wash your hands and step over to your husband, wrapping your arms around his waist and sighing when you feel the warmth of his embrace. “I love you.” You whisper, conflicted about looking at the test. Part of you just wants to tell Marcus to look to satisfy his own questions, but you know that will hurt his feelings.

"I love you, too, sweetheart." He murmurs back, gently peppering kisses in your hair and all over your face until you can't help but giggle. It's a long three minutes. By far the longest three minutes of your entire relationship, past or present. When the timer on your phone goes off, he squeezes you tightly in his arms. "Do you want to look or do you want me to do it?" He asks quietly.

You bite your lip and look up at him, falling more in love with him when you don’t see any judgment in his eyes. “You look.” You whisper, having seen enough negative tests to last a lifetime. “I know what it will say.”

"It's just peace of mind." He says again, but somewhere along the line he's gotten mixed up about whose mind needs the peace. Marcus slips off the counter, squeezing you again before he lets go and steps over to the toilet. He catches himself, not wanting you to hear him hold his breath. Willing himself to look normal and calm, Marcus leans over to look at the most important piece of plastic he's seen in years.

He's grateful that he's facing away from you because he knows how wide his eyes have blown. "Baby..." His voice waivers, carefully picking up the test and staring down at the little plus sign in the window. He's on the verge of exploding, trying not to get excited before he sees your reaction. He has no idea what you'll say when you see this.

You sigh, knowing that despite what he said, when you hear his voice catch, you know he had been hopeful. “I’m sorry Marcus, I really am.” You turn around and rub your hand up his quivering back. “It’s– I’m sorry.” You shouldn’t apologize but you do. “I’ll make a doctor’s appointment to find out what’s wrong.”

"Honey." Marcus inhales softly, turning around to face you and practically cradling the test in his hand. "You should look at this."

“I don’t—" You freeze when you see the face of the test, your heart stopping or skipping several beats as you stare at the positive result. You make a noise that can’t even be described and rip your eyes away from the test to look up at Marcus. “Is that– Marcus, it that…positive?” You whisper, not daring to believe it. You’ve taken hundreds of tests and never even gotten a false positive.

"It is," he nods his head. He's trying so, so hard to keep a poker face until he can figure out how you feel about this but he's not sure how well he's doing. "It's positive, babe."

Your lower lip trembles and your eyes are already starting to fill with tears. “Positive means…I’m pregnant?” You whisper, staring back down at the test again, your lips starting to pull into a wide, ecstatic smile. “Marcus, I’m pregnant!”

The relief he feels at seeing you light up is palpable. He drops the test on the counter and scoops you up in his arms, feeling you grin against his neck as you hug the life out of each other. "You're pregnant," he whispers it against your lips, grinning along with you. "We're pregnant."

“Oh my God.” You sob out, the tears streaming down your face definitely ones of joy as you kiss your husband over and over again. “We’re, oh! I have to make an appointment. A blood test just to be certain, but I’ve never, ever had a positive test Marcus.”

"We'll call in a minute." His thumbs gently swipe away the tears running down your cheeks. Marcus is fairly certain he's never seen you this happy before, even in the video of your wedding. "We'll get the tests done and get you checked out, okay? Make sure everything is okay and get the coffee out of the kitchen so it won't make you sick again." He'd switch to tea and energy drinks in a heartbeat. This was the best reason in the world to have to change his routine.

You can’t help but beam up at him, excitement humming through your veins, and you feel like you could move mountains at this moment. “Later.” You tell him, pulling him to you for another kiss. “First I want you to take me to bed. Celebrate the little one the exact same way we created them.”

"My girl's always so eager." Marcus nips at your bottom lip, hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass tightly with both hands. "So gorgeous when you're excited, hermosa." His kisses trailed from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck. One hand snakes around to rest over your belly. "Going to look even better growing my baby inside you."

You whimper at his words, never thinking that you would actually hear them in this context. It was so much sweeter that it had happened with Marcus. "I can't believe it." You admit, loving how his hardness is growing at your hip, twitching with growing need. "You like the idea of me fat and pregnant with your baby? Mood swings and sensitive tits?" You had thought your breasts being sensitive was just because of your oncoming period, the one that Marcus had noticed you missing. Being sick and the upheaval of combining your lives had just made you think that it was delayed. You had been late plenty of times with a negative test for you to trust your cycle.

“I’ll end up getting really protective,” he admits, stroking his thumb over the place your tiny baby has decided to settle in and grow. “I went a little crazy with the whole thing before Missy was born. But I’m your man for 3am snack runs, foot massages, a good solid fucking whenever and wherever you want, and keeping every doctor’s appointment scheduled so you don’t have to worry about it.” He already knows you will hate the doctor’s visits. All the poking and prodding will probably give you serious flashbacks, but he will be there to hold your hand every step of the way.

"I love you." You close your eyes and curl into his body, loving how much he is already putting you at ease. "I– Marcus I want you to take me to bed and give me that good solid fucking, and then I want to schedule our first appointment for our baby." You breathe out, your voice wavering slightly with the overwhelming emotions that are coursing through you. "And I can't wait to see protective daddy mode."

Marcus growls playfully, fusing his mouth to yours instantly. It is only a few steps to walk you backward from the en-suite into your bedroom, and he can make the walk from muscle memory alone. “Glad I called out of work,” he mumbles against your lips, already reaching for the hem of your t-shirt. “Gonna spend all day celebrating with you.”

You hum, smiling as he pulls back to lift your shirt over your head. "You seem to like that." You tease playfully, reaching down and cupping his hard length over his jeans. "Spending all day in bed with your wife."

He hisses at your touch, but can’t stop smiling. “Maybe I’m just really, really in love with you.” It’s no word of a lie. The last two months had proved to him that you were always meant to be a part of his life and he had grown exponentially more in love with you every single day. “And maybe I’m also turned on by how excited you are.”

"Mmmm." You love how open and honest he is with you. "I am excited and I want to show you just how excited I am." You normally let Marcus take control in the bedroom, reveling in his more dominant side, but right now you push him back from you slightly, smirking at his confusion as you look at him. "Strip." You order, biting your lip and looking at him in challenge.

His smile quickly morphed into a smirk. “Yes ma’am.” Never one to disobey a pregnant wife, Marcus pulls his t-shirt up over his head and tosses it aside, aiming for the laundry basket but failing miserably since he can’t take his eyes off of you. His favourite trick - undoing a zipper with his powers - comes in handy here and reveals that he hadn’t bothered to put underwear on this morning when he got out of the shower. Stiff and proud, his cock bobs when it’s free of his jeans and his smirk turns darker when he sees your eyes travel south and you bite your bottom lip. “See something you like?” He teases.

You inhale sharply, your own need making you reach for your clothes. "Fuck yes." You moan. "Get on the bed." You order him again, pulling your own shirt over your head and watching him lay down before you push the leggings and underwear you had been wearing down your legs and kick them off. He watches you as you kneel on the bed, making you smirk when he groans, your hands trailing lightly up his thighs. Bending down, your tongue runs up the length of him before coming back down, moving past his shaft and down to the hot and generously full balls beneath. Your lips press against them and you hear his moan when your tongue swipes at the soft skin. Paying special attention to the part of him that had given you such joy.

There is something about the gentleness of your caresses that lights a fire in Marcus as much as his normal rough and ready does. Making love is different than fucking with you - both are intense and highly pleasurable - but lovemaking always seems to press primal buttons in him that keep him close and doting on you for days. He knows that there will be more of this to come, but the sweet way you kiss his body is already making him squirm.

"Never thought I would get to have a baby." You admit, knowing he already knows this, but you feel like it needs to be said. Your lips press against his skin again and again in praise and worship, teasing and admiring. "But you, you gave me one." You realize now that it was your ex that was the issue. He had never shared the results of his tests, claiming they were normal, that you were the problem. Your nails scratch at the skin on his hips while you move up to let your tongue flutter around his frenulum. "Strong, virile and all mine." You whisper.

Marcus preens under your praise, feeling like there’s nothing at all special about him but if you say he’s special to you, then he believes it. Moans litter his responses to your touch, one hand slipping into your hair so he can make sure to see as much of his cock disappearing into your mouth as possible. “Anything for you,” he pants, humming in pleasure. “Try as much as you want or just love the hell out of this baby now.”

You moan around his cock, loving how he wants to give you options, leaving it up to you. "I'll be greedy later." You murmur, pulling off of him and kissing the tip of him, feeling his twitching where your hand is wrapped around the base. "Right now I just want to love the hell out of my baby daddy," you tease, winking up at him before you lick him again. He moans again and you release him, kissing up his stomach before you straddle him. Your dripping core pressing against his cock.

“I’m all yours, sweetheart.” He promises. He gently strokes your clit, loving the way you let him watch your slick cunt slide up and down his length before you sink down on him. His hips buck, already looking more than a little wrecked as his eyes plead with you to keep going.

Your eyes roll back, a soft moan filling the air at how full you feel. His cock fits perfectly inside you and while you know it's all in your mind, you feel more sensitive than you were last night when he had taken you. Your walls flutter around him while you grind down on him and circle your hips slowly, relishing the way that he grabs onto your hips to try to control himself.

“I’m all yours, baby,” he repeats, hissing when you grind down harder into his lap same he plants his feet flat on the bed to fuck up into you with more force. “Yours to use.” There’s a flash of dominance in the statement as he tells you what to do, but he is relinquishing control to you. Letting you set the pace and take what you need.

You moan, jostled on his cock and you love how he hits. Leaning down, you don’t miss how his eyes drift down to your tits, where they are brushing against his chest. “Marcus.” You whine, wanting his mouth on them. You push your chest towards his mouth.

He gladly latches on to one tit, tracing your piercing with his tongue and palming the other to give equal attention. He’s found out that the best way to make you squeal is to play with your tits with his powers, so the hard peak pressing against his palm receives a jolt of energy - just enough to be pleasurable before the threshold of pain. He explores with sucking kisses, already having memorized your body but always wanting to praise your peaks and valleys. He’s sure to leave live bites littered across your torso that the doctor will see but politely not comment on, and he loves it.

Your walls tighten around him, making your hips jerk when he tugs on the piercing with his teeth gently. "Oh fuck baby." you pant out, bouncing on him faster. Your walls slide up and down his shaft, your thighs burning from the fast pace that you start, needing him urgently and wanting to fall apart on him.

He knows that look on your face. He has dirty dreams about that face even though he sees it at least once a day. You’re so close that you would normally be begging if he were in charge. Begging for permission to soak his cock in your release, screaming his name as you came. Marcus loves that look.

He swaps his attention to your other breast and snakes his hand down between you to rub your clit, pushing you even further toward your peak. His spine is tingling deliciously and he knows he’s going to follow you right over the edge.

"Oh God, oh fuck, Marcus." You whimper, barreling closer to cumming, especially when he brings his hand down to rub your clit. The perfect pressure that you love against the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Oh fuck!" You cry out, your body jerking and you collapse on his chest, trying to grind your hips down to keep moving while you cum around him.

He fucks your through your orgasm, rhythmless thrusts jerking deep inside you until thick ropes of his cum paint your cunt and claim it as his. Marcus holds you tight to his chest as you both come down from your high, peppering kisses in your hair and finding your lips sweet, loving kisses. “I guess this is what happens when we never use protection,” he jokes, catching his breath while still inside you.

Your breath catches when you realize that. "Oh God." Your brow furrows and you pull back to look down at him seriously. "I– Marcus I didn't mean for this– how do you feel about this?" You ask. Logically, you know he is happy, he wouldn't have reacted the way that he did, but you had told him that you were safe. That you couldn't have children and now you are pregnant. That miniscule part of you feels like you tricked him into this and that is what is prompting this moment.

“Sweetheart...” he sees the worry in your eyes. The flash of guilt. “Baby, I’m thrilled .” He promises. “Please don’t think of this as some kind of accident.” His arms tighten around you, cradling your body against his. “This is a gift. You never thought you’d get to be a mother and now you can be. Honestly? I love being a dad. And Missy will be a fantastic big sister. Our family is growing and that’s a beautiful thing to be grateful for.”

You slump down against him, relieved by his reassurances. You press your lips to his and sigh, happy that you got to be with this man again. That you were able to even be where you are right now. "I love you, Mr. Moreno." You whisper, smiling against his lips and closing your eyes when his arms tighten around you. "So very much. I am so happy that we got married at our reunion. Best drunk decision I've ever made."

Marcus presses a playful, smacking kiss to your lips. “I wonder who won the bet?” He muses, waggling his eyebrows. “How many of our classmates do you think bet on you getting pregnant on our honeymoon?”

You snicker and bite your lip, contemplating. "Susan and Tim for sure." You guess, grinning down at him. "We will have to announce it on the app after we confirm it with the doctor and see who crows the loudest." You suggest, leaning down and kissing him again.

“We should call the doctor,” he mumbles, now kissing down your jaw and the line of your neck. He absolutely doesn't want to pull out of you even though he’s gone soft inside you, but neither of you has a cell phone nearby and it’s a very important appointment to make.

You murmur a soft protest but start to get off of him. "I guess it's for the best." You grumble before you flash him a grin. "I have to pee again."

“Get ready for a lot of that.” With one more kiss, Marcus lets you off of him and follows you into the bathroom to clean up. “You’re going to be a great mom,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand tight and pressing a kiss to your palm. “You’re so good with Missy already. You’re going to be amazing.”

"I hope so." You tell him, nervous but eager to face the challenges that come with motherhood. You break away from him so you can go use the bathroom and clean up. Watching Marcus pick up the pregnancy test and pad out of the room while you finish up, you hear him on the phone, murmuring too low for you to hear and you smile to yourself, your hand drifting down to cover your stomach protectively.

Miracles do happen it seems.

You're married to the first man you've ever loved and are now carrying his baby. You smile, looking down at the test you couldn't resist taking while you were cleaning up. Another pink plus sign, making you truly grateful.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Moreno #Marcus Moreno x you #Marcus Moreno x reader #Marcus Moreno x female reader #Marcus Moreno x f!reader #We Can Be Heroes #high school sweethearts #one that got away #what happens in vegas stays in vegas

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