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morallyinept · 3 months

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Heyday Hero! - A Marcus Moreno One Shot

Summary: Retired from his role as leader of the Heroics, Marcus finds that his life is missing something he never really slowed down to notice before, and soon the prospect of growing older and grey alone suddenly doesn't seem like such a super thought.

Pairing: Mature!Marcus Moreno x Mature/CurvyF!Reader (No name of reader. It’s you, bub. However Reader is of a similar age to Marcus, who I have made 52 in this story, and Reader is more on the curvier side in body type. Otherwise a blank slate.)

Word Count: 12.5k. I'm not sorry. Settle in, it's a long one.

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: Some angst/very slight mentions of body confidence/both Marcus & Reader have REAL bodies, and very real middle age spread/coming to terms with ageing & feeling obsolete.

Explicit: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/fingering - Marcus has superpower hands⚡️/lots of kissing/schmaltzy romance/Marcus doesn't fuck, he makes love.

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.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, 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: After seeing how distinguished and incredibly handsome Pedro looked at the Emmy's recently (and remarkably like an older version of gorgeous Marcus Moreno) this idea came to me. And I had to write it down... It's long for a one shot, but I didn't want to cut too much out as I wanted to really get inside of Marcus's head. 🧠

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

In the dimly lit restaurant, Marcus fiddles anxiously with the menu as he waits for your arrival.

Sat in the swanky establishment, chosen meticulously for it’s luxurious, yet modest selection of incredibly tasty fare, the ambiance around him is a blend of soft lighting and muted colours that exude an air of quaint sophistication.

The walls are adorned with contemporary art pieces, which he can sometimes get lost inside between courses, creating an elegant backdrop to the gentle hum of conversations weaving around him like a ribbon in the background.

To his left, a couple engage in animated laughter, their cheery faces illuminated by the warm glow of soft candlelight. Across the room, a group of friends celebrate a special occasion, clinking glasses in animated jubilation.

The soft jazz music playing in the background adds a touch of romance, and the scraping of cutlery against fine china creates a comforting sense of familiarity in a place Marcus has favoured from time to time, bringing his daughter as his usual date.

The waitstaff, dressed in crisp uniforms, move gracefully between tables, ensuring that each patron experiences the epitome of culinary indulgence with a first class service.

Grateful that he chose to don his spectacles, he opens the menu and skims the appetizers and main courses, inwardly cursing his exceptional time keeping skills at arriving thirty minutes earlier than he needs to be.

He’s acutely aware of being on his own; standing out as a single amongst a sea of tables where numbers around them are even, and it crawls onto his shoulders to sit there like a heavy, unwanted companion settling in.

Despite the refined atmosphere, Marcus feels a tinge of nervousness swell in his belly. As he catches glimpses of couples sharing intimate moments and friends engaged in lively cahoots, Marcus can't help but feel like an outsider peering into a world that has become somewhat unfamiliar during his retirement.

As he sits in contemplation, considering the Filet Mignon with a Cabernet Demi-Glace alongside a glass of Malbec, or maybe the Châteauneuf-du-Pape, that would go down nicely, the restaurant serves as a swamping microcosm of the world he’s retreated into - a world filled with ordinary moments and the promise of new connections, despite the cocoon of abject terror woven tightly around them.

He wonders briefly for a moment what you will choose to eat as he skims down the list. Then he wonders if you'll actually have the courage to show; his own hesitations and fears trying to toy with him with their insidious little voices hissing in his ear.

His once steady hands now convey a subtle tremor, a physical manifestation of the nerves that have gripped him tightly ever since the idea of this date had taken root and grown limbs of its own.

A journey that still confused him, unable to believe it all started with a simple swipe over his face and a digital message shared between you...

His daughter, Missy, had perched on the armrest of the couch only a mere fortnight ago, a mischievous glint in her deep chocolate eyes that matched his own set of peepers.

"Alright, Dad, let's make you the perfect dating profile. You've got to be enticing, mysterious, yet approachable," Missy had declared with a buoyant smirk.

Marcus nodded, still getting accustomed to the concept of online dating and his acceptance to it after months of Missy berating him about putting himself out there more.

He finally caved when he realised she was right. She usually was about these things, although hardly an example to live by. Several failed relationships later, including an engagement that never led to Marcus actually walking her down the aisle proudly on his arm, and she'd thrown in the towel and embraced single life.

She'd grown in age for a thirty-something rambunctious young woman, but evidently not in maturity.

"Right, right. Enticing and approachable. Got it.” Marcus nodded. “How do I do that?"

“You’re a lost cause, jeez,” she snorted, as her fingers danced across the keyboard on the phone screen. “Luckily, you have me to help you out.”

“What are you writing in there?” Marcus asked curiously, trying to take a peek.

"I’m making you sound like a catch. Because you are.”

“I don’t know about that.” He mumbled bashfully. “I’m old.”

“Being in your fifties is not old. Trust me. You’re what, 56?”

“52.” Marcus frowned.

“Exactly. Young. Now, for the headline. How about 'retired hero seeking sidekick for life's next adventure'?"

Marcus nodded. “Mm, I sound like a sales pamphlet.” He chuckled.

With a teasing grin, Missy continued typing. "Let's highlight your strengths. 'A man of action, but also enjoys long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners.'"

Marcus scratched under his greying beard. "Look at that, I've been upgraded from sales pamphlet to walking cliché."

Missy laughed, "fine, we'll skip the beach walks, then. How about we mention your cooking skills? 'Can whip up a mean lasagna, tower of pancakes and save the day - a triple threat.'"

Marcus nodded in approval. "That's not bad. Cooking is a superpower in its own right. And one that I excel at, if I do say so myself."

"You always say so."

"Quit complaining. You eat here for free." He quipped.

As they navigated through the intricacies of the dating profile, Marcus's naivety about online dating emerged. "Do people really swipe left or right on this thing?”

“Yep. You swipe right if you like the look of them, or left if you don’t.”

“How fickle.” He wrinkled his nose at such a thought.

“Eh, it's what all the cool kids do these days.” Missy shrugged.

“Maybe that’s too cool for me. What about one where I can meet someone like me?”

“Dating specifically for retired Heroics?”

“No. Dating for… something other than a one night stand.” He cleared his throat.

“You mean you don’t want to slut around?” Missy teased. "These are your hoe years, Dad!"

“Hey! Potty mouth.” He frowned again. “And no. I-I want to meet someone who’s serious.”

Missy rolled her eyes. “Dad, this isn’t Tinder I'm setting you up on, don’t worry.” She reassured. “This is a serious dating site for old, uh, mature people who want to find something real. It just has a similar algorithm to Tinder in matching you up.”

“Well, good.” He nodded. “What’s Tinder?”

“Slut central.” Missy smirked.

“Oh.” Marcus chuckled again. “And what's with all the emojis? Ooh, is there a superhero emoji?"

Missy tittered, guiding him through the nuances. "Yes, there's a superhero emoji, we can add that, or a heart to jazz it up a bit."

“I like the purple heart. Can you put that one?”

“Purple? Why not the green one?”

“I don’t like green, purple is my favourite colour. Why would I use the green one?” Marcus questioned, wrinkling his nose.

"I don't know, green is cool. Different."

"I'm not cool. Just put the purple one."

“Purple it is.” Missy said, smiling down at him and how curiously receptive he was to it all. She had assumed he would have put up a bit of a fight and insisted he was perfectly fine on his own. But they both knew that wasn’t entirely true.

As she finalised the profile, Missy held up the phone to snap a picture of him.

“Oh no, let me just-”

“Dad, you look fine.” She groaned as he ran his hand over his head tidying his already neat hair.

“Well, let me take my glasses off.”

“No way. They’re a part of you. Now, say cheese, you uncool old man.” She snapped a few pics as he smiled awkwardly, and chose the best one to upload.

"And there we have it - the profile of a retired superhero ready to conquer the world of online dating. You're a niche in the market."

Marcus simply scoffed.

"Now, brace yourself for the flood of admirers, Dad. Your inbox is gonna be lit."

Marcus looked at the screen, a mix of nervousness and amusement on his face.

"Flood of admirers, huh? I never thought finding a date would be this... complicated."

As Missy finalised and submitted the online dating profile, a moment of hesitation gripped him. He looked at the screen, the upbeat words that described him echoed in his mind, and a pang of guilt tugged at his ventricles making him sigh heavily.

The prospect of moving forward felt like a betrayal, a step into an unknown territory where memories of his late wife still lingered, clinging on. He fiddled with the platinum band around his finger absentmindedly.

But Missy sensed her father's inner turmoil, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding as if she could read every silent thought that churned through him.

She gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

"Dad, it's okay. Mom will always be a part of us, no matter what. This doesn't mean you're leaving her behind."

Marcus nodded, his gratitude evident in his misty eyes. "I know. It's just... it feels strange, you know? To be potentially opening up to someone new. I feel so out of the loop."

“But that’s the fun in dating.” Missy squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and he placed his hand on top of hers. "You meet all kinds of weirdos before you find one that's the right kind of weird."

"You're a weirdo." He smirked.

"Takes one to know one," she mused. "Besides, mom would want you to be happy. And I want that too. You deserve it. There’s someone out there that's just as uncool as you are, I guarantee it."

"Thanks," he chuckled.

"I mean it. Whoever they are, they're going to fall madly in love with you. You really are a hero, Dad."

Marcus smiled up at her with rosy cheeks and a warming smile. “Love you, kiddo.”

“I’m not eleven anymore. I’m a grown woman.” She rolled her eyes at the pet name that had stuck, although secretly she loved it.

“You’ll always be my kiddo regardless of how old you get. That'a just the deal.” He confirmed with a singular nod.

With a soft smile, Marcus returned his focus to the dating profile. The words on the screen transforming slowly from potential betrayal to a blooming eagerness through some determined resilience and the capacity to allow himself to embrace a new beginning in his long absent love life with some appeasement.

Weeks had passed since Marcus and Missy created the dating profile.

Admittedly Marcus hadn’t spent a lot of time on the app, finding it tricky to navigate and the constant swiping made his thumbs ache after scrolling through reams of attractive faces that it began to overwhelm.

But he dipped in now and again to check any matches, and didn’t really expect much.

Marcus was the kind of man who harboured that dreamy infatuation of falling in love naturally in an environment reminiscent of his favourite rom coms.

Like bumping into his soulmate in a coffee shop over a foamy latte, or locking eyes through the stacks in an old dusty bookstore, or between the exotic blooms of the local botanical gardens where he liked to sit and have lunch sometimes.

But of course, life isn’t a rom com, and Marcus was convinced his had always been a gritty action adventure with no time for the romantic story line to be weaved into the dangerous plot.

One evening, as Marcus checked his phone, he discovered a notification from the dating app. His heart skipped a beat as he opened the message, revealing a match with you.

A mixture of excitement and nervousness washed over him. He read through your profile, discovering shared interests and a warmth that resonated through your words about seeking a life partner with whom you could share your zest for life with.

Your photo captivated him, namely your smile, and Marcus found he spent several minutes just trying to envision what you were like in person with those gorgeous eyes of yours staring back at him.

The room seemed to brighten as he absorbed the realisation that someone out there was potentially interested in getting to know him beyond the superhero persona.

"Hey, I got a match!" He called out to Missy, who was folding laundry in the next room.

Despite how domesticated her father was, he still loathed ironing and wasn’t really that skilled at it, so it was left for Missy when she visited, which was an almost daily occurrence. Moving out some years ago into her own place across town, she still spent more of her time at her childhood home hanging with her father when she wasn’t saving the world.

Loneliness, it seemed, was hereditary.

She rushed in, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Really? Let me see!"

As they huddled around the phone, Marcus navigated through your profile.

“Oh, she’s gorgeous, Dad.”

“Right? Far too gorgeous for me.” His voice dipped.

Missy frowned up at him. “Don’t say that, she likes you, look. And look, she loves flowers, you love your garden! Ooh, and she’s a foodie! Perfect match!"

"You think so?" He asked.

"You're officially in the dating game, Dad!" She grinned excitedly.

Marcus couldn't help but smile, a blend of gratitude and anticipation in his eyes.

“Send her a message back.”

“What do I say?”

Missy rolled her eyes. “Just talk to her, dummy.”

He nodded. "I never thought I'd be doing this at my age. But here goes nothing."

Missy playfully nudged him. “You say it like you’re on your last legs.”

“I’m so nervous. Do you think she could really find me interesting?”

Missy's face softened. "Absolutely. You’ve got so much to offer. Remember, just be yourself. And if all else fails, maybe tell her about the pancake towers… That seemed to work for you before."

The father-daughter duo laughed and then she left him to it. As Marcus prepared to message you, he felt a sense of hope blooming within him, seeding with delicate tendrils of what-if scenarios through the soil of his being.

The dating app, once an intimidating frontier, now represented a chance for connection in the palm of his hand, and the possibility of a second chapter in his life.

In the soft glow of the phone screen, Marcus typed his first message to you; a simple yet sincere greeting, with thoughtful follow up questions to get to know you.

As he pressed send, the room seemed to hold its breath with him; floundering in the uncharted territory and all the terrifying pitfalls of online dating opening up in seemingly unconquerable chasms before him.

He could feel his fingers buzz and crackle in giddy excitement, and he shook the pulsing from them as he waited anxiously.

Marcus smiled as wide as his mouth would stretch when moments later your reply came, followed with a purple heart emoji of your own at the end.

The pair of you spent the reminder of that night messaging back and forth until the early hours of the morning, both of you seeming reluctant to halt the texting for the inconvinience of sleep.

You questioned him about his previous career as leader of the Heroics, something that he made no effort in hiding from you, but he was more surprised when you brushed over it and asked him more personal questions about him and his life now.

It warmed him to know that you were keen on getting to know the man underneath the padded out suit and katanas.

As Marcus delved into the conversations that flowed eagerly across the screen, he eagerly shared those glimpses of his life beyond the Heroics. In his messages to you, he found himself excitedly revealing the most cherished aspects of his retired life - his culinary prowess and his love for gardening namely.

Through his words, never abbreviated to modern day text slang, he painted vivid pictures of his kitchen as a canvas where he crafted tasty and experimental delights, contributing to his now less-than-trim waistline.

The tales of him donning an apron and concocting flavours with pots and pans were woven into the giddy narrative - like creating his legendary lasagna and towering pancake stacks - and held a touch of pride and a hint of self-deprecating humour.

Perhaps you'll be the lucky one to experience my famous lasagna one day. I warn you though, it comes with a side of terrible superhero puns and far too much garlic bread.💜

Your response made his cheeks ache from grinning so much:

Well, lucky for you I love far too much garlic bread. And terrible puns.💜

He spoke of mornings spent tending to the plants in his back yard, nurturing them as if they were his wards. The garden, once a therapeutic escape from the demands of heroism, now became a space where he cultivated not just flowers and vegetables, but a sense of ongoing tranquillity.

As he shared these aspects of his life, Marcus was ecstatic that you saw beyond the retired hero and glimpsed the man who found joy in the beautiful ordinary.

You both spoke morning, noon and night until only a few days into your chatting, Marcus offered you his phone number and he called you, engaging in a video call conversation that lasted late into the night and curated a dinner date arranged for just a few evenings later.

And now, sitting in the restaurant waiting patiently for you, his phone buzzes in his pocket at the table and Missy’s name flashes up.

Stay away from anything garlicky 2nite, no matter how much u want it. Good luck! Love u x

He smiles at his daughter’s sage advice after responding with a thumbs up emoji, and he puts his phone back in his pocket and glances out the window.

Outside the restaurant, the early night casts its enchantment over the cityscape of downtown Austin, turning the bustling streets into a reflective mosaic of city lights. The glow of the street lamps create warm halos diffused by the previous cascading rain, warm in the Texas summer.

The restaurant, with its polished veneer and the subtle drama of its patrons all around seem to suddenly cave in on Marcus, and the nerves begin to convince him that you might feel out of place here.

He’s starting to, as he glances down at himself; his once-strong hands now showing signs of a subtle tremble and wear. He smooths down his soft cashmere sweater nervously.

Agonising on what to wear, Missy came to the rescue after his attempts at some mismatched disaster left her looking at him as though he'd completely lost his mind.

And perhaps he had for even entertaining the idea that someone could find him desirable and attractive now at the gates of a later stage in life.

After a brief fashion show of potential date outfits, they settled on a classic and sophisticated choice of a black cashmere sweater, paired with a white pressed shirt and a sleek black tie underneath, teamed with black pants and smart dress shoes that seemed to strike the right balance between the refined and approachable.

Much smarter than his grey denim that was scuffed at the knees.

"Very James Bond, Dad," Missy had remarked, a playful grin on her face.

"James Bond is incredibly smooth with the ladies. I'm more like Jack Lemon." Marcus snorted. "Got that nervous, twitchy energy down to a T... How do I look?"

With a final nod of approval, they exchanged their trademark father-daughter grin; a silent acknowledgment of the bond that went beyond snappy wardrobe choices.

Missy, ever the supportive sidekick, had not only helped pick an outfit, but infused the process with laughter and adoration, quelling his aforementioned nervous, twitchy energy. The ensemble was nothing too fussy, but equally comfortable and smart.

But now he wonders if the sweater accentuates the stomach he’s allowed to grow out of him through not working out on the daily anymore, and he inadvertently sucks it in.

As Marcus browses the menu, his mind wanders aimlessly to the days when the government relied on him and his team to protect the city. Now that gratitude seems to have faded, replaced by a forgotten indifference.

The retirement party was a mere formality, a token of appreciation for a job well done over the years, and soon he was swallowed up in the anonymity of regular civilian life.

But in the quiet solitude of his home, Marcus often found himself grappling with the stark void that retirement had suddenly left behind. The absence of the daily camaraderie of a team, and a mission, left him with a sense of purposelessness that was hard to ignore.

Days stretched before him like an uncertain horizon and weighed heavily on his shoulders. The routines that once defined his life had dissolved, leaving behind a disorienting stillness and quietness that seemed perpetually louder as the days wore on where he was left floundering. And immensely bored.

His daughter watched with concern as her father navigated this unfamiliar terrain cautiously - and somewhat alone.

The strong, confident superhero who had once faced down villains and alien entities alike, and saved the day countless times without so much as a thanks from the general public most of the time, but bore the scars and wounds that weren't just physical, now faced the formidable challenge of figuring out what came next.

In the midst of his internal battles, loneliness became an unexpected companion that walked beside Marcus; its presence more pronounced as the passage of solitude had unfolded.

In the darkest corners of his mind, Marcus grappled with the harsh reality of ageing. The once-vibrant hero who was in super shape, whose every step echoed with the assurance of a Titan-esque strength, now found himself facing the inevitability of a body that carried the pudgy weight of his advancing years and one too many lasagnes.

The grey in his beard and the subtle signs of time etched around his tired eyes, served as visual markers of a journey that had traversed the highest peaks of heroism and now meandered through the sludgey valleys of introspection.

A sense of nostalgia lingered for the days when his strength seemed boundless, and the world bowed in acknowledgment of his achievements and saviour duty.

Yet, beneath the surface, there was also a quiet, yet slow acceptance; a recognition that each new wrinkle and grey strand bore witness to a life well-lived. Overall, he was happy, accomplished; he had what he needed to be content.

But there was still a hole where a hole ought not to be. And it was starting to gape.

The memories of his late wife visited him in unguarded moments. Especially at night when the world was still and peaceful, yet his yearning was abominably loud.

Marcus missed the warmth of her presence, her body wrapped around his, the shared laughter, and the quiet intimacy that had defined their mere few years together.

He would fall asleep glancing at the tarnished gleam of his wedding band that he still wore around his finger, up until his impending date.

A metallic fragment still clinging on with her memory despite its haze, and popping it safely away inside the drawer came with a sense of unyielding sadness as it did with something excitedly eager to pursue a new chapter.

The transition from active duty to retirement weighed heavily on Marcus. The once effable hero, accustomed to the exhilaration of fighting crime and saving lives, found himself facing the stark reality of now being cast aside, overshadowed by the emergence of a new, younger fleet of heroes; his own daughter taking up the position that he once held proudly as leader of the Heroics.

Retirement, in its initial stages, felt like a forced departure from a life that had defined him. The government's decision to make way for the next generation of heroes left Marcus grappling with a sense of displacement.

The outfit, which had been a symbol of strength and purpose, now hung in the closet faded and moth-eaten; a silent reminder of a bygone era, no longer fitting him where he’d allowed himself to fill out a little.

The katanas were sheathed and stored away at the back of the furthest shelf out of reach, and out of sight, and no longer needed to be called into his grip by his own will.

And despite him still feeling that magnetised, crackly buzz in his fingers, it became less noticeable as time wore on.

His team, once a tight knit band of clashing personalities in lurid coloured suits alike, were now strangers in his phone book whom he barely heard from.

There was an inherent loneliness attached to retirement, a solitude that stemmed not just from the absence of battles, but from the realisation that the world had moved on and left him forever encased inside his heyday.

Marcus recognized that the cycle of heroism demanded the emergence of new champions; each generation contributing to the ebb and flow of the greater narrative. He knew and understood he would never be able to keep going forever, nor did he want to.

The challenge, however, lay in reconciling his sense of self-worth with a society that often failed to appreciate the depth of experience that came with age.

It was as if he had become invisible overnight.

Marcus yearned for a companion, a lover who could fill the void left by the passing of his wife. The longing for romance, for someone to share the mundane and extraordinary moments alike, for the feel of someone's bare skin writhing and cupping against his own filled his waking thoughts.

The world, once a carnival of action, now seemed incomplete without the shared tenderness of someone to enjoy it with. The quiet dinners, the walks hand-in-hand, and the simple pleasure of having a partner to confide in rooted a growing hunger within him.

The desire for companionship wasn’t just a fleeting wish; it was a profound ache that echoed through the vacant chambers of his heart, a reminder that heroism, while noble, did not shield him from the vulnerabilities of basic human need.

For your date with Marcus tonight, you'd carefully selected a dress that effortlessly blended elegance with a touch of modern flair.

The dress was a knee-length, A-line silhouette in a shade of deep midnight blue, shimmering with some well placed sequins.

The rich hue complimented your complexion, enhancing the natural tones of your skin, along with a subtle dusting of make-up to accentuate your best features.

The fabric, a luxurious blend of silk and satin, cascaded down in gentle folds, creating a silhouette that was both graceful and sophisticated and hid a multitude of sins that you felt knocking your confidence about a little.

The moment you step into the restaurant your eyes are eagerly searching for him, and you spot him at a table by the window, his eyes equally searching for you.

And it's as if time itself has stopped, and there is only him and you.

Your dress is incredible, hugging your curves and emphasising them in all the right places. He can’t help but let his eyes roam over the fullness of your behind as you turn to give your coat to the host when you walk in.

Marcus can feel his mouth salivate; a small hint of your swelling cleavage is exposed as you walk towards him, rendering his pants feeling a little tighter.

But what captivates him the most is your smile; it lights up your whole face when you dazzle him with the beam of it.

“Holy ssh…” He trails off to himself as he loses his breath.

Of course, he already thinks you're attractive; he's seen you already through your picture and your video calls that have been on his mind constantly. He’d be bashful to admit that he’s looked at your dating profile picture probably far more than he should.

(He’ll never reveal to you that he’s also used it as inspiration to chase his own pleasure as he wrapped his hand around his thick cock to impure thoughts of you whilst he looked at your smiling face. Well, he won’t tell you that just yet, anyway.)

But seeing you finally in the flesh is something else entirely.

As you approach the table, the air pulses with a blend of eager excitement, and that familiar nervous, twitchy energy.

Marcus rises to his jellied feet, a courteous smile on his tanned, weathered face; his mind racing with the age-old question of whether to extend a hand for a shake, lean in for a kiss on the cheek, or open his arms for a hug. He fears he might not let you go at the latter.

All options make him giddy; the thought of finally touching you, even for a polite greeting, makes his legs buckle.

Your eyes meet, and a moment of charming awkwardness ensues. Unsure of the social cues, Marcus hesitates for a split second, caught between the realms of old-school gentlemanly grandeur and the nuances of modern dating etiquette.

In a playful attempt to navigate the greeting, he extends a hand for a shake just as you move in for a friendly hug. The result is a momentary dance of uncertainty - a handshake that morphs into an unexpected half-hug, odd dance. Laughter bubbles up between you both, diffusing the tension of your awkward limbs, as you share an amused, bashful glance.

"Well, that was smooth," Marcus quips, a twinkle in his eye.

"Some of my best moves," you agree, chuckling in agreement.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” Marcus compliments. He pulls your chair out for you and you smile as you sit whilst he tucks you in, then takes his own seat opposite you.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, feeling warm all over. “Very handsome.”

“Thanks,” he says, smoothing his hands down over his broad chest. “I had some help.” He admits, his eyes crinkling in the corners behind his specs as he chuckles. “My daughter saved the day.”

“Well, she has great taste. You look amazing. You smell really good too.” You say as your nose still twitches with the heady oaky notes.

"Thanks." He smiles and finds he can't stop.

He drifts off for a moment, lost in your eyes as they observe him fondly. It takes a moment for his composure to return and his brain to remember words coherently.

“Oh, I almost forgot, these are for you,” Marcus says, pointing to the vase of extravagant flowers resting beside the table on the windowsill.

The florals are incredible, a cluster of bulbous-headed peonies and fluffy garden roses, topped with curled calla lilies; their trumpet-shaped blooms standing out amongst their companions, adding a contemporary flair to the bouquet.

A soft hue of pinks and corals greet you, and the scent wafting from them makes your head swim with their delightfully wafting fragrance.

“These are stunning, Marcus. Wow, they must have cost a fortune... you shouldn't have.” But you're glad he did as you reach forward to smell them and run your fingers over their velvety petals in awe.

“Actually, they’re from my garden.”

“You grow these?” You baulk.

“Yeah. I know you said you love the lilies; they’re some of my favourites too.”

“That’s so thoughtful... I really do love them. Thank you.” You’re stunned at the fact this incredibly adept man knows how to cultivate something so beautiful into existence from a tiny seed. “Flowers just make me so happy, you know?”

“I get that. They make me happy too.” He agrees. “Would you like some wine, are you a wine drinker?” Marcus enquires.

Despite your long conversations laughing like teenagers breaking parental curfew well into the night, there are still things you're both yet to uncover about each other.

You nod. “I'd love some.”

The waiter takes your orders and you choose the pan-seared sea bass, drawn to the delicate and flaky texture of the fish, served on a bed of lemon risotto with roasted cherry tomatoes and asparagus.

Something light that won’t aggravate your stomach with your own nerves so much throughout the evening.

But his soft, inviting smile revealing a dimple as he gazes at you whilst you talk, puts you at ease. He really is incredibly handsome in the flesh, to the point it leaves you unable to speak for a few moments in between the engrossing conversations.

But the silences are never awkward between you both.

The dark-rimmed spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose adds a touch of intellectual charm to his appearance, framing deep cocoa eyes that hold the wisdom of years spent in both heroism and now the quieter, reflective moments of life.

His greying beard and moustache add a rugged yet refined quality to the sun-kissed countenance of his complexion. The salt-and-pepper tones speak of a life rich with experience, the threads of grey weaving through the tapestry of a man who has weathered both storms and serenity.

He made no attempt of keeping his heroic qualities a secret from you - his face was known for saving the world time and time over - and despite it, it wasn’t something that put you off when you learned he was a former Heroic, and that people would sometimes recognise him like a celebrity when he were out doing mundane things like grocery shopping.

If anything, it flattered you that someone of his calibre would find you attractive in any kind of way. Compared to Marcus, your life in contrast was humdrum at best with a simple, yet modest job and a simple, yet modest home.

He could have a limber woman with a body sculpted to perfection in tight spandex, but instead it impressed you at how humble, and seemingly reserved and shy he was.

And how keenly interested he was in you and everything you had to say.

“Oh, this is delicious.” You sigh after the waiter brings your food a while later.

Conversation has flowed easily between you both and he makes you laugh a lot; something that he selfishly enjoys when he sees you throw you head back and titter, making you look more beautiful than ever, and filling his head with wayward thoughts of kissing down your neck.

That tight feeling in his pants hasn’t gone away yet and he revels in the throbbing ache hanging heavy despite the discomfort, because it’s been so long since someone made his body react like this.

“You wanna try some of mine too? The meat's really good.” Marcus offers, and holds his fork out to you when you nod.

You notice he bites his bottom, plush lip as he watches you take it in your mouth.

“Mmm, that is good. So tender. This was such a good choice of restaurant.” You say.

“Thank you. I love food and kinda pride myself in finding the best places to eat.” He says with a slight flush creeping over his nose. “That probably comes off as rather arrogant-”

“Not at all. I love it that you love food so much. I do too, it’s probably why I’m more on the heavy side these days.” You chuckle as you reach for your wine glass.

Marcus shakes his head. “I think you look amazing.” He smiles and you notice the rosy blush settle in his cheeks again.

“I never knew this place was here. It’s funny, you can spend your whole life in one place and not realise what’s right under your nose, right?” You say, and Marcus can’t help but agree in more ways than one.

The meal is delicious, the wine flows between you both. Finishing the bottle, he offers you dessert with a tempting smile and arched brow, that ignites something over your skin and leaves you tingly and squeezing your thighs together.

Your mutual sweet teeth lead you both to agree on the tiramisu to share between you. Layers of coffee-soaked ladyfingers and mascarpone cream, dusted with cocoa powder, promises a delightful conclusion to the meal, to which you both indulge in as you speak more.

As you discuss your favourite movies and share anecdotes, the conversation takes on a flirtatious undertone as he leaves the last creamy bite on the plate just for you.

Wholly engaged in your words, Marcus leans in slightly over the table on his crossed arms; a hint of intimacy in his gesture, and a reassuring sincerity in his eyes that convince you that he’s enjoyed this evening and your company so much.

And when you look back at him, leaning in a little closer on your elbows across the table too, watching and shuddering as his fingertips soon brush against yours, you confirm the same to him in your own eyes that glitter and beguile him to his knees in subjugation of you.

"You know, they say the best movies are the ones that leave you wanting more... I can't help but feel the same about our date. I've had a really wonderful time with you tonight," he concludes, his dark-rimmed spectacles adding a touch of earnestness to his gaze.

He watches you smile and the world outside implodes.

"I was thinking... w-would you be interested in doing this again? Maybe something a bit less formal - like maybe a walk through the city or maybe a picnic or something?"

You chuckle, your eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. “I’d absolutely love that, Marcus.”

“Yeah?” He beams, all teeth and pink grinning lips.

“I’d love to spend more time with you, definitely. I’ve really enjoyed tonight too. Almost don’t want it to end.” You say as your fingers glide over his knuckles.

“Well, it doesn’t have to… I-I mean, the night is still young, perhaps we could go for that walk? Or get another drink elsewhere? I know a good cocktail lounge in town, if you're feeling fruity?” Marcus suggests.

He’s careful not to sully the line between polite etiquette and implied impropriety. But you both chuckle at his choice of words.

“Sounds good.” You agree, all twinkly at him, and he can feel his heart soar.

He fetches your coat and holds it open for you as you slip it on. He carries the vase of flowers out towards the parking lot, suggesting he puts them in the car so he can hold your hand freely as you walk together somewhere, anywhere.

But you both don’t make it on that walk, or to the cocktail lounge, as instead you turn to him and go to kiss him, taking him by surprise that he almost drops the vase of flowers as your lips barely graze his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I just had to,” you say, a little flustered and giggly.

“Wait,” he says, and you watch him plonk the vase on the ground safely, and his arms pull you towards him. “Okay, let’s try that again.”

Smiling, Marcus leans in as you tiptoe up and your lips finally meet; soft, inviting and delicate.

A smooch that lasts and morphs slowly into something more passionate, more desired. And confirms everything you hoped and imagined about him from the moment you laid eyes on him this evening: Marcus Moreno knows how to damn well kiss.

You trace the line of his bottom lip with yours, nipping it gently and it elicits a moan from deep within him that warms your bone marrow.

His hands traverse the length of your back pulling you in closer to him as he gently slips his tongue into your wanting mouth.

Your fingers trace the soft silk of his beard; his moustache gently tickling your top lip deliciously. It’s a tender, unhurried exploration, one that sparks fireworks inside your veins.

His thick fingers, calloused by the harsh realities of his journey, find their way into your hand, stroking gently, and you can feel something crackle between them.

You eventually part and draw in much needed breaths from where he’s inhaled all of you deep into his chest cavity.

“Wow, t-that was-” He begins with a bewildered stutter.

“It was,” you agree, smiling into his face as he nuzzles his nose against yours.

“You taste so good,” he groans, placing his hands on your waist gently, respectfully, as you stroke up his thick arms.

You're so close, pressed into him and you can feel the swell of him against you making you smirk.

“It’s the tiramisu,” you chuckle.

“No, it's all you.” He whispers softly shaking his head. “Would you… would you like to come back to mine for some coffee?”

“Coffee you say?” You smile with raised eyebrows. “You know that's code, right?” You tease.

He laughs. “I’m not being presumptuous, I just… I kinda don’t want the night to end. And I’d really like to kiss you some more.”

“I know what you mean. And I’d love some. Both coffee and kissing.”

Marcus opens the passenger side door for you as you seat yourself in, and he smiles warmly with glittery peepers that render you speechless.

Leaning in, he kisses you again, bent in through the door and unable to abnegate himself away from you.

With the flowers secured in your lap, he sets off and you admire the clean interior of his Camry and watch him drive as he turns to smile at you through the shadows.

He takes your hand in his and brings it to his mouth to kiss over it gently as he drives.

Pulling into the driveway at Marcus’s home a short ride later, you unclick your seatbelt as he turns off the engine.

“I can drive you home at any point. Just say the word and we’ll go. I’m not expecting anything more from-”

“Marcus. Take me inside and make me some coffee.” You reassure him by squeezing his thigh gently.

Marcus’s home is large and spacious, but homely in all the right ways with subtle Hispanic influences woven through the decor, and incredibly neat and tidy than what you would expect from a bachelor living alone.

“Is this your garden?” You query as you glance out the french doors keenly whilst he makes coffee in the kitchen.

The vase of flowers is perched on the counter top, and your eyes recognise the blooms swaying in clusters the gentle breeze around the garden where he cut them from, despite the darkness of the evening.

“Yeah,” he says proudly, as he brings over the mugs.

“It looks beautiful. Can we sit out there?”

“Sure.” He opens the door for you and you step out onto the patio.

Lit by the soft glow of ambient solar lights, the garden unfolds like a hidden oasis. The centrepiece is a small, pristine pool, its turquoise waters reflecting the moonlight as if inviting a tempting midnight swim.

Your body clenches deliciously at the thought of seeing him undress to join you naked in the water - two water nymphs wet and writhing against each other.

Surrounding the pool, an array of vibrant flowers and lush greenery embraces the space. Potted plants adorn the periphery in terracotta homes, showcasing an array of herbs that hint at the culinary adventures Marcus enjoys embarking on in his kitchen.

The scent of lavender and rosemary lingers in the air, adding a fragrant dimension to the balmy Texan night that awaits you both.

As you settle by the pool at the small metal table and chairs under a large, sun-faded parasol, coffee cups in hand, Marcus shares more stories of his connection to the garden - his mother shaping his green fingered talent.

Inspiring him with a sanctuary of her own that blended the influence of his Latino heritage within the serenity of nature growing up as a boy. He also lets slip a little more about his life as a Heroic, and the fact his mother was his mentor and trainer.

“Was?” You query gently.

He nods with a dipped smile. “She passed just before I fully retired. Unexpected, but peaceful at least.” He summises quietly.

“I’m so sorry. She sounds like an incredibly formidable woman.”

“She was. She would’ve liked you.” He says with a pricking smile.

You smile under your eyelashes as you drink more of your velvety coffee.

The night unfolds under the bokeh stars, the inky expanse above causing you both to question and ponder jointly on some of life’s bigger questions and philosophies. Sharing a profound connection that transcends cultures and backgrounds to agree on more common threads that weave around you both, tethering you together further still.

Marcus, his dark-rimmed spectacles reflecting the glow of the night in the lenses, looks at you with a warmth that's far from the ordinary, what feels like hours later.

"You know, it's getting late. I could drive you home if you'd like?" He queries tentatively.

“Trying to get rid of me already, hmm?” You tease.

“God no.” He shakes his head vehemently. “Far from it.”

“I mean, I don’t wanna impose or anything.” You’re quick to add, realising that you’re probably keeping him up.

“No, no imposition at all.” Marcus assures. He reaches for your hand, slotting his fingers in yours.

“Good, because I believe I was promised more kisses, Mr Moreno.” You smile.

At that, he instantly pulls you closer to him by your seat; it scrapes across the patio and he engulfs your face in his giant hands.

“I never do this.” He says, panting after breaking the intense kiss. A kiss that he can feel igniting his whole body.

“You never kiss on a first date?” You gasp as you feel a flurry in your core.

“I mean, you’re my first date since… my wife.” He clarifies.

“I’d love for you to tell me about her some time.”

He nods. “I’d like that.”

"And it's okay. I don't usually do this either." You reassure. "But I really like it..."

"Me too," he smiles leaning in to kiss you some more.

As you sit by the pool, occasionally pressing your lips to one another for periods of time that wash away in a dreamy, pastel haze, the unspoken desire to extend the evening lingers in the air.

Marcus hesitates, a wibble of vulnerability in his voice as he clears his throat.

"Would you... consider staying? I’m really enjoying your company. I-I have a guest room, and you're more than welcome to use it." He tries not to physically wince as he lays it out bare. “I mean, I’m just enjoying your-”

“Would you like me to stay?” You question with your smile widening.

Marcus nods. “Yeah. I mean, if you want to. We don’t have to do anything, nothing’s expected. Just kissing you like this is really nice.”

“Yeah, it really does. You’re a really good kisser, Marcus.” You suck his bottom lip gently and he moans.

“Well, I really like to kiss. Feels good to have someone to kiss again.”

“I don’t want to stop kissing you all night.” You agree as he brushes his lips against yours, his moustache tickling.

“Stay? Let me hold you?” Marcus questions, although it sounds like he’s pleading with you through those strangled gasps as he tastes your tongue again.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped up in his strong arms all night and to wake up in them. "Okay."

It feels right, natural between you. Two strangers who feel like they know one another inside out already - it’s easy with him.

And your attraction to him knows no bounds as you’re greedy for his presence and touch alike, and allow him to take your hand and lead you back inside.

Marcus listens.

Listens to every small gasp that ebbs out of you as his fingers stroke over your skin, tracing over the areas that make you shudder and hitch your breath in anticipation.

He learns that you hiss a little when he kisses your neck, when he sucks your earlobe into his mouth and nibbles gently on it with his teeth.

He learns that you’re ticklish on your hips and you giggle into his mouth uncontrollably, snorting ungraciously a little, when he does it again, making him laugh in turn.

He respectfully traverses the route of your body, mapping it out with his fingers stroking the length of your arms, his lips pressed at the juncture of your throat.

He listens to recall and remember and to please you. God, he just wants to please you and leave you satisfied.

But he also wants to leave you wanting, craving more of him. Begging even… He takes his time kissing you, tasting you and touching you. Letting you unfurl in his hands like a tiny bud, blooming into something spectacular and colourful as he waters you.

The both of you are soon in his bedroom, unable to resist being parted from one another.

His fingers feel like tingly electricity zapping through your skin layers, and he explains that he can’t seem to control it around you as your lips peck at him under his jaw rendering him a quivering mess in your own hands.

It's a curious sensation, a subtle vibration with a pinch of static as the pads of his fingers graze your cheeks gently; it makes your blood fizz through your veins as you feel it pulse into your epidermis and pores.

“What other powers do you have?” You query, lost in the richness of his eyes, as he winds strands of your hair around his digits.

“Just this." He runs his pads over your lips and you feel that soft, gently muted vibration sink into the meat of them that makes you groan as it tingles into the depth of your jaw. "I’m pretty good with a katana too.”

"Are you boasting, Marcus?" You tease.

"I'll be happy to show you my sword wielding skills anytime."

You both laugh as he realises what he just insinuated.

“So you can’t fly?” You query, stroking under his chin. Your fingers trace a small, uniquely heart-shaped patch where no hair seems to grow on the left side. You watch as he closes his eyes and pushes his jaw into your hand further.

“No, I can. But with the help of a flight device.”

“A flight device?”

“Maybe I’ll show you. Take you up. In the sky.” Marcus muses.

“You’re going to take me to new heights, hmm?” You smirk.

“Well, I’ll certainly try,” he says, rubbing his nose against yours.

He grazes gentle, languid kisses down your neck, settling on the curve where your shoulder hilts.

He runs his aquiline nose there delicately, inhaling the faint remnants of your perfume with vanilla and coconut notes that makes him salivate.

"I'm scared of heights," you murmur dreamily.

"Well, I'll be sure to hold onto you extra tight." Marcus takes a hold of you, pulling you fully into his arms.

"Like this?" You whisper.

"Just like this." He says as he wraps them around your back.

"You won't let me go?"

He shakes his head. "Never."

You find yourself straddling his lap; your bodies simply moving of their own rhythmic volition as they slot into place effortlessly and without instruction or hesitation; his large hands sweep up your back as you kiss him deeply.

Your fingers roam in the softness of the greying silk of his bearded scruff. You explore the broadness of his shoulders, the tightness of his biceps over the soft cashmere, journeying over the wide expanse of him as he pulls you closer in his protective embrace.

"I don't want this to end," he murmurs into your shoulder.

"Me either," you sigh with a smile. “This might sound incredibly forward, but... I want you, Marcus,” you whisper into his mouth.

You can feel him pressed against you, hard and swollen in his pants and it’s difficult to ignore his desire when it so brazenly taunts your own.

“You’re sitting in my lap on my bed, I think we're past being forward,” he chuckles.

“True,” you giggle.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? There’s no pressure at all. I didn’t invite you here with an agenda.”

You nod with a keen smile. “I know. But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than I am right now. Do you want me, too?”

“I’ve never wanted someone so much.” He says with glistening eyes. “It’s been so long though. I-I don’t even know if I’ll be any good.” He gulps heavily and it wrenches your heart a little.

You press your fingers to his kiss-bruised lips and he can’t help but mouth against them. “Marcus, you're perfect.”

“Kiss me again,” he whines as he presses himself even closer to you.

Attaching yourself to his lips once more, he sighs contentedly into your mouth, tongue swirling gently around yours and sucking on your lips.

He holds his arms up as you lift up the hem of his sweater. Your fingers slide over the silk knot of his tie, undoing it. He loves that when you loosen it, you use it to yank him forward to kiss you deeper still, guiding him closer to your body to be tangled up with you.

You undo the buttons slowly on his shirt to reveal tanned skin and the broadest shoulders you’ve ever seen on a man.

A couple of scars dapple over them and his sternum, like white lightning streaks against the gold shimmer of his skin, and he shudders as you trail your fingertips over them delicately.

“I wanna know all about these.” You say beholding him. “You must have some incredible battle stories from your time in the Heroics.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” He promises.

“I wanna know everything about you.” You breathe as you feel him nibble at your collarbone.

“The feeling is incredibly mutual,” he replies softly as he brushes your hair from your face. “Can I take this off?” Marcus asks, running his fingers along the silken hem of your dress that’s ridden up your thighs.

“Yes,” you smile at his politeness despite the carnal heat running through the both of you.

He pulls it up over your head and audibly groans at your choice of matching underwear, lacy and delicate.

His eyes trail hungrily over your body and you don’t feel the need to cover up the lumps, bumps and stretch marks; the way he looks at you burns in your core.

“You're just…” words fail him as you smile softly. “Wow.”

“It’s been a long time since a man saw me like this.” You admit, a little shy. "My body isn't what it used to be."

“You’re stunning. I’m lucky that it’s me who gets to enjoy you. Besides, I'm not exactly in my best shape." He grimaces looking down at the small swell of his tum puffing over his slacks.

"I think you're sexy." You say.

"Yeah?" He queries with raised eyebrows.

"Mm, really sexy." You confirm, stroking over the soft fat of him.

"Is this okay? We’re not going too fast? I wouldn’t want you to feel like I'm only after one thing.” He checks.

“I don’t think that at all.”

“Good, because I really like you. I want to see you again.” He says earnestly.

“Me too.” You agree nodding.

“Is it too early to presume this might be the start of something really special?” Marcus asks with a crooked grin. "I dunno, I just feel it."

You shake your head. “I feel it too.” You agree.

He kisses you again and you taste the truth of his words.

“I wanna feel you too. You can touch me, Marcus.” You whisper to him. “I want you to touch me everywhere with those magic hands...”

He grins, and his hands, albeit shaky, massage over your mounds, trailing around to your back where he hesitates at the clasp.

“Take it off,” you murmur as he unhooks your bra and licks his lips as your nipples are revealed to him.

Leaning forward, he trails kisses across your collarbone until his lips find your nipple and he sucks gently whilst you rake through his subtlety greying hair.

A pink wet tongue teases over your skin as he licks, causing your back to arch, pushing your breasts further into his mouth.

“Mmm,” you whine as the pull of your nipple between his lips is felt buzzing on your clit in response.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he trembles, but his voice seems deeper somehow, with more of a heavy graze inside his cheeks. “I wanna make love to you all night. Discover all the ways to please you."

He kisses down your sternum just under your breasts. "I wanna make you come all over me…” He says between rasped breaths. “God, I want you screaming my name.”

“I want you inside me, Marcus." You gasp.

He groans at that. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Me either. But it feels so good.” You say, smiling at him.

You help him remove his pants until he’s in his boxers and lying back as you climb over him, leaning down to kiss him as his hands pull you closer to him.

The hairs on your body stand tall as his hands create that wonderful tingle to curl your spine out and your nipples to tighten.

The bulge in his boxers is unignorably prominent and you can’t abnegate yourself away from reaching down in between your bodies to feel him, squeezing over him gently as he grunts into your mouth.

“You feel amazing,” you whisper as he blushes. “I wanna taste you, will you let me?”

“Uh-uh,” he shakes his head, “that’s not how we do things in my house. Ladies come first.” Marcus smirks.

He rolls with you and you giggle as he kisses down your body to the thin hemline of your panties. He runs his hands up and down your hips and stomach, and you feel those tingly crackles from his fingertips ignite your skin once more.

He kisses and lavishes gentle nuzzles against your tummy, and you hum out feeling the soft tickle of his facial hair across it.

You lift your hips as he gently pulls down your panties, watching keenly as he kisses down your legs. He takes your ankle and rests your foot on his shoulder as he lays between your thighs.

And then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, Marcus transforms from hero to villain as he licks a long, lingering stripe up your pussy.

“Oh my God, yes…” You whine.

He looks up at you with molten brown eyes as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit and you sonic boom inside at the sight and feel of it.

He massages and strokes your inner thigh as he tastes you, running his tongue in and around your soaked lips and murmuring in keen delight.

The softness of his beard feels like liquid silk against your skin as his nose grazes and nudges your clit whilst he teases your hole, pushing his tongue inside you.

You reach down and pull off his glasses, giggling as the lenses are smeared with your slick already.

“You taste delicious.” Marcus husks before going back in for more, hungry for your as he laps and licks.

"Mmm, Marcus..." You whine, arching your back as you keen for more of his tongue. He presses it against your clit, sucks gently on the nub and licks and sucks through your drenched folds.

He makes you come with just his mouth, sucking expertly on your clit before he slips his fingers in, coming up to suckle on your nipple again as he pumps them in and out of you.

He’s astonished how wet you are for him; his fingers squelching and the sounds are lewd as he whelves.

“God, you’re so perfect,” Marcus says as he leans in to kiss you again: his beard his damp from your secretions. “So wet and tight. Does that feel good?”

“So good.” You groan.

“More?”

“More.”

He speeds up, fingers deep to the hilt of his knuckles. “Harder?”

“Yes!” You cry as you feel it overtake you, a mesh veil cast over your sight as the room fills with gold glitter.

“Marcus! Your fingers! Oh my God!” You gasp as you can feel those crackles again, only inside you now; deep in the pit of your core right on your spot, and your thighs shake uncontrollably.

He circles your clit with his thumb and the sensation completely overwhelms as you feel it there too, buzzing all the way deep into that fleshy hub.

Your eyes catch him smirking at you as he applies the perfect amount of tingly pressure. And that look in his eye tells you he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You’re coming quicker than you can fathom, dizzy from the pulsing shocks and giggling uncontrollably at the delicious buzzing it creates.

“Jesus!” You yelp at him as he grins devilishly. “How do you even do that?!” You gasp as he pulls his fingers out and you watch, wholly spellbound, as he sucks them clean.

“Benefits of having a superpower, I guess. I used to think it was weird... having magnetised hands.” He remarks casually, as if he didn’t just rock your world with those digits of his.

“I don’t know how I’ll compete,” you say, pushing him onto his back as he kisses you.

“You’re perfect as you are, trust me,” he breathes, watching as you slide down his body.

You kiss over the soft swell of his tummy, lavishing it with wet kisses over and over as he gathers your hair inside his hands to watch you. You look up at him as your fingers slip into the fold of his waistband.

He nods, too dumbstruck to comment verbally as he watches you slip down between his legs and pull off his boxers.

He’s big - bigger than you anticipated, and so thick. You’re unsure how he kept it hidden in his pants all night. He’s perfectly uncut with a flush pink head that’s positively dripping for you.

You make out with his cock gently, barely mouthing over him with the gooey strings of his precum sticking to your lips like gloss, and making him hiss and gasp.

He’s well groomed and the subtle greys in the thatch of neatly trimmed hairs there at the base of him are just as soft as his beard.

You tongue his head, flicking back and forth over that drooling slit and taste the salt of him before teasing his frenulum that makes his hips buck involuntarily.

"Y-yeah," he chokes on a ragged whisper.

You take him in your mouth fully, and he groans long and deep, head lolling back as he feels your hot, wet mouth encase him and suck slowly down his length.

You can take him about three-quarters of the way before you feel him prod at the back of your throat, and although you're tempted to see if you can swallow him fully and press your nose against his soft belly, tonight’s not the night for ungraceful choking.

Although, your body flares at the thought of how uncouth and dirty he could be with you; imagining his usual politeness being traded for filthy demands as his huge hands press on the back of your head, forcing you to take him all the way down your throat.

You whimper around his cock at the thought, feeling your cunt contract and drip.

“You’re so good at that,” Marcus keens as he glances down at you.

Your eyes flick up at him as you smirk around your mouthful of him and it’s not long before he’s pulling you back up and kissing you with an intense hunger that steals the breath from your lungs.

He rolls you onto your back, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as he grinds against your centre.

You whine as the length of him slides back and forth against your slit, soaking and greasing him up in your slick. The ridge of his head knocking against your clit builds you up again as you bite your lip staring up into his chocolaty eyes.

"Feels so good," you whisper, clutching onto him.

“Yeah? I don’t wanna hurt you, so I'll go slow, okay?” Marcus whispers as you reach for his thick cock and swipe him through your pussy lips.

You both shudder as you do it.

“You won’t.” You reassure him as you stroke him and he groans. “I want you inside me.”

He lines up, his swollen head dipping slowly into your fleshy folds as he lingers there, pushing gently and barely against your hole.

You’re so wet he could easily slide all the way in with one flex of his hips, but it feels too damn good already, and he’s apprehensive to finish so quickly before he’s even started.

“The things I wanna do to you...” Marcus murmurs bashfully.

“Sounds intriguing,” you smirk as he pushes in a little more. "Tell me, I-oh!"

You gasp as you feel yourself opening around him, stretching as his thick head pushes in further.

“We’ve got all t-the time in the... ahhh, world,” he breathes. “All the time to find... hmmm, new ways to pull you apart on my cock. My fingers, my tongue…” He grunts as he slides in.

“Mmm, fuck," you let slip in his ear and he groans.

“Fuck indeed,” he grizzles as he pulls back a little and slides in again, and hearing him finally curse makes your body shudder.

"You're so perfectly tight around me," he puffs.

“You feel so big,” you say, nodding in encouragement. “I want you to fill me up, Marcus.”

“Yeah?” He breathes as he slides in further. “Stop me if it's too much.”

“It’s not too much. It's perfect... you're perfect. Ohhh. More.” You pant. “Please, I wanna feel all of you. I need you.”

“You need me? You need my cock, hmm?” He teases with a grin.

“Mmm, I want it so badly.”

"I want you so badly."

You look down between you as he breaches fully, hips flushed tight against you as he bottoms out and you both groan, eyes pulled back to one another.

You grapple for him, desperate for him to kiss you again as he works his hips. Soft breathy pants fill your ears as he finds satisfaction and a steady rhythm within your wet warmth.

He’s gentle, but powerful; winding slowly, and buried so deep inside you. It feels like it’s too much, but not enough and you claw at his back desperately each time he withdraws and thrusts back in.

“Mmm, you’re so deep…” You murmur into his lips.

“It’s not too much?”

“No, you feel incredible.”

“You take me so well, hermosa.” Marcus praises.

“Oh, I forgot you speak Spanish…” You smirk, all glistening teeth at him.

“¿Quieres que te hable sucio en Español?” (Do you want me to talk dirty in Spanish to you?)

You chuckle, utterly beside yourself. “I have no idea what you just said, but yes. God, yes!”

He smirks into your lips as he kisses you again, his hips doing all the work with each, deep languid stroke.

“I love feeling every inch of you.” You pant as he speeds up a little.

“All of me... Every. Inch. Of. Me.” He thrusts on every syllable, deliberately making you gasp.

“You feel so good, Marcus. I’m gonna come soon.” You sigh, feeling it build behind your core muscles, cinching and tightening in that delicious wind before you snap back on yourself.

“I can feel you squeezing me. I bet you’ll look so beautiful when you come all over my cock. Come for me. Let me see you.”

He feels your fingers bruising in his skin, tastes your pants fizzing on his tongue like sherbet.

Sitting upright, he pulls your hips right up off the bed as he slips back inside you, fucking deep into you on his knees.

He hits all the right spots at this angle and your whimpers soon become loud hollers and yelps as he pushes against your spot relentlessly and tosses you into oblivion once more.

"Come for me," he pants.

You claw at the sheets; your eyes rolled so far back that you swear you can see the inside of your skull and all the swampy lilac clouds floating around in there. Your body sheens with sweat already, as does his; mercury drizzle, shimmering in the pale light of his bedroom lamps.

You’re almost there; a flutter in your chest as your heart flies away to be gifted to him with metallic ribbon curls wrapped around it. A building warmth, igniting from within, growing more wild like fire consuming and burning everything up in its path, scorches your skin.

An electric charge of anticipation, spurred on by the crackled pulses from his fingers around your hips, pulls your orgasm right out of you like ridding you of a hostile possession.

You screech as it leaves your bones.

“That’s it, hermosa. Come for me!” Marcus pleads with a hiss as you shake and gasp as he turns you inside out.

Pulling you upright against his chest, he’s stunned at you. “You look so beautiful.” He says, almost choking as your bonelessness.

“M-Marcus!” You wail, his cock buried deeper.

“Yeah, keep coming for me,” he encourages as he watches you wind and bounce on top of him.

You groan, throwing your head back and losing count of the number of times he’s made you come already.

You slow and grind on him as iridescent bubbles flow and burst around you; your thighs never-ending in their shaking, and he watches in rapture as you take his breath away.

“From behind?” You suggest breathlessly after a few moments of coming down from that tremendous high he throws you up to so easily.

“Anything you want, beautiful.”

He slides down your body, kissing the length of your back and all over your butt cheeks before spreading you open and tasting your pussy again with his tongue.

His lips never leave your skin, even when you turn around and bend forward with your ass up in his face.

He reaches down between your legs to stroke your clit. You feel him kissing the side of your head, nuzzling into you as he pushes himself back into you slowly. And the feel of him at this angle, this depth, makes you mewl as he hits deeper than before.

He stops for a moment when he sees you backing up and gyrating on the end of his cock, reaching round to grab the meat of his thigh and moaning incoherently at how good it feels.

“You look amazing doing that,” he drawls before holding onto your hips and drawing deep into you with slow, measured thrusts shunting through your body. “That feel good, like this?”

“Yeah… so good.”

“Mmm, I-I can barely stand it,” he pants. "I'm close."

“Come for me, Marcus.” You whisper to him as he fucks you faster.

“Mmm, oh God.” He whines as his hips start to snap harder, his grip around your hips squeezes tighter.

He's marvelling and gasping as he watches you shake again, shake for him. That he still has the power to make someone feel this damn good after all this time.

That he could fathom such a thought of making love to a woman again when he had convinced himself for so long he would endure his remaining years alone, his left fist as his only release.

But then you showed up, careening into his life through a device he held in the palm of his hand; laughing at his humour, smiling that incredible smile at him. Wanting to know more about him and just... wanting him.

And here he is, deep inside of you now and not able to get enough of how you squeeze around his cock bringing him to the brink of his own annihilation. You kill him and resurrect him, to do it all over again.

“I’m gonna come!” Marcus pants, cheeks and chest flushed a glorious pink amongst the natural bronze.

“So am I. Don't stop!” You wail.

“Where? I’m so close! Tell me where you want it...” He can feel it building and rushing towards the end of his cock.

“Inside me, come inside me.” You pant.

“You sure?”

“Fill me up until it’s all dripping out of me.”

“Fuck!” He yells. "Oh fuck!"

Marcus growls out that sweet blasphemy that makes your toes curl and your cunt clench as he comes, filling you up as you so coveted, as he spurts out inside you - warm, thick and plentiful.

A brief moment of his weight against your back crushes you into the bed as he flops down over you, panting and groaning in your ear.

Smiling, you turn and kiss the side of his face buried in the crook of your sweaty neck.

“That was incredible, you're incredible.” He whimpers, voice all muffled in your skin and hair a few minutes later.

He rolls with you, pulling you into his arms against his clammy chest as you both catch your breath.

“I can’t take all the credit, you were pretty incredible yourself there, Mr Moreno.” You grin.

“Yeah. Looks like I’ve still got it after all.” He puffs with a bewildered chuckle.

“No doubt about that.” You giggle and laugh with him, as Marcus wraps the comforter around you both.

The soft hum of the morning unfolds around you.

Eyelids opening and lashes fluttering against his chest, you're accompanied by the distant sounds of nature awakening outside.

Marcus, still in the relaxed embrace of slumber, seems to embody the tranquillity of the dawn as you gaze up at him longingly.

His rhythmic breathing through soft snuffles, his heartbeat in your ear, resonates with the peaceful serenity that surrounds you in his downy sheets that smell faintly of his lingering cologne and your heady sex.

As you lay in Marcus's arms, you spend a few minutes contemplating the next exciting steps between you, when the prominent ache registers between your legs, which makes you smile as you recall the moment he first sheathed himself inside you.

It makes you clench around nothing and you moan softly in want, squeezing your thighs together at the vivid memory.

You’re compelled to kiss him, planting tender smooches across his chest and up to his neck, when he stirs and his lips find yours and latch on again.

Your hand slides down his sternum, over the warm, smooth swell of his stomach, and you find him stiff and weeping for your touch.

He grunts into your mouth as you pump him, fingers wrapped around his length as he hardens fully. His own digits course those pinpricking tingles down your spine again as you shudder and arch.

He bites his lip, eyes closing in satisfaction as you work his cock and feel it throb with need in your hand.

Soon Marcus slips in behind you, clutching you close to his chest; his fingers entwining in tight knots with your own. He fills you again, your moans surrounding him as he kisses and nips on the back of your neck, and it feels like a dream you don't ever want to wake from.

You’re full of him, sticky and drenched from the night of intense love making that never seemed like it would relent. His stamina surprised you both, but was incredibly welcome, alongside the equally surprising refractory period that will leave you aching for days.

You lost count of the number of times he was inside you. Unable to get enough of each other, wanting more, more, more and giving more, more, more.

“You’re so beautiful in the morning,” Marcus cants into your ear as he fills you to the brim, fucking softly into you from behind. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He wraps his arms tighter around you as you squeeze around his cock.

“Trust me, I'm the lucky one,” you whine as his fingers slip down and stroke over your clit bringing about another orgasm that prickles and tingles under his expert ministrations.

You soon sit in his lap, rocking back and forth on his solid cock buried deep inside you as Marcus nuzzles into your face. You work your hips riding him, his shoulders banging gently into the headboard.

His hair is a sleepy, wild mess with streaks of grey running through short curls you never knew he had under that tamed back style he had for your date, and he’s never looked more beautiful as they fall into face.

The way he looks at you makes you come again, with something so warm and so sincere swimming inside his lust blown eyes at you.

"So beautiful, hermosa," he murmurs with a smile at you.

He leans back on his hand, his other squeezing around your butt as you ride you both to a mutual intense finale of whimpers and names called out in desire and want.

After you still, feeling him seep out of you whilst he remains plugged inside until he softens, fawning and kissing over your face, you smile gently as you plant kisses along his silky jaw.

“Good morning,” Marcus smiles as you feel his lashes against your cheeks.

“Morning handsome.” You sigh dreamily.

“How did you sleep?” He enquires.

“Terribly. I had an incredibly attractive man between my legs for most of the night keeping me up.”

“That sounds awful.” He smirks as you kiss him again, and Marcus determines he never wants to stop kissing you or hearing your breathy giggles.

“Sleep is for the weak. It was amazing.” You say and he’s inclined to agree, on both counts.

“You hungry? You wanna stay for some breakfast?”

“I’d love to.” You smile.

“What are you doing later this afternoon?”

“Hmm, not much planned, will probably be thinking about you.”

“Is that so?” He enquires with a smirk.

“Mmhm. I have a feeling you'll be hard to forget.”

“Want some company whilst you think about that, maybe some lunch, too?”

“Sounds perfect. Perhaps we can drag ourselves away from each other long enough to go for that walk.”

“Doubtful,” he concedes and you giggle nodding in agreement. “But we’ll give it a shot.”

“You’re incredible.” You whisper to him and his eyes soften as you regard up at him.

It's been a long time since a woman looked at him like you are now.

“No, it's all you, hermosa, trust me.” He smiles into your mouth.

"I like that, that thing you say."

"Hermosa?"

"Yeah." You smile.

“Good." He kisses your temple. "Stay here, relax. I’ll make you some breakfast in bed. Then I’ll drive you home, okay?”

He winks as you watch him pull on his boxers and reach for a pair of grey sweatpants hanging out of the hamper.

“You spoil me, Mr Moreno.” You say, watching him pull them up his thick, muscular thighs.

“Mmm, I intend to. How do you feel about pancakes?”

“Ugh, my hero.” You swoon.

“Dad?” Missy calls as he hears the front door open around twenty minutes or so after he’s arrived back from dropping you home.

Admittedly it was hard parting from you; kissing you with soft whimpers in the car outside your place, and basking in that post first date glow.

Marcus is hesitant to wash the scent of you off of his skin, convinced that if he does he’ll wake from this wonderful dream to find you’re not real.

A text from you, complete with an emoji purple heart, convinces him to stop being silly and that you are real, and last night and this morning was wanted and reciprocated in equal yearning.

He can't stop thinking about it, about you. His cock aches again as the images of you both wrapped up in one another flash behind his glasses.

Your message confirms the time for him to pick you up later and he smiles reading that you can’t wait to see him again. And to kiss him.

And to feel him inside you again...

“Hey,” he calls out from the kitchen, feeling heated as he tucks his phone away in his pocket.

"How was the date? Don't leave out any details!" Missy warns as she makes her way down the hall.

She comes in, putting down her bag and immediately spots the coffee cups and plates as he gathers them to wash up; clear evidence that he’s had some company this morning.

Then she spies his dishevelled appearance, clad still in the creased t-shirt and sweatpants he drove you home in, and hair that hasn’t been combed as he quickly rakes his fingers through it almost desperately.

She grins up at him as he tries not to blush, but fails. “I might omit some details.” Marcus says sheepishly.

“Must have been a hell of a date.” Missy mirths, perching on the breakfast bar stool.

“Well, she’s a hell of a woman.” He says, smiling behind his spectacles. "It was really... wonderful. She looked stunning, and we had a really great time together."

"Yeah, I bet you did." She remarks with a widening grin.

"Stop it." He groans, flushed.

“You’re glowing.”

“Shut up.” Marcus mumbles and fails to stifle a wayward grin.

Beaming, Missy watches him as he fills the sink with soapy water.

“What?” He asks after he can still feel her eyes on him.

“Are you seeing her again?”

“Yeah, later this afternoon for lunch.” He smiles.

“Good.” She chirps.

She comes up beside him, picking up a dish cloth and dries the dishes as he places them in the rack.

They both complete the task in silence, both trying to stifle their grins at one another.

Once done, she turns to him.

“I’m really happy for you, Dad.” Missy says, as she wraps her arms around him. He rests his chin on top of her head and smiles.

“Thanks, kiddo.”

“Go and shower. You smell like a slut.” Missy remarks.

"Potty mouth," he points at her with a mock-frown.

"At least I know where mine's been..." She grins.

Shaking his head in defeat, Marcus chuckles, blushing beet red, as he pads out of the kitchen and up the stairs, feeling more invincible than he’s ever felt before.

💜

Thank you so much for reading my Marcus Moreno story (if you made it to the end, hopefully you did!) and I really hope you enjoyed it. I'd love to hear your thoughts about my version of him. Thanks so much! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fluff #marcus moreno x you #we can be heores fic #jett's writing #sometimes heroes are more than just super #mature marcus moreno

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burntheedges · 3 days

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600 Followers Celebration

Y’all!! This is wild. I realized the other day that I started writing my first fic in my notes app on my phone on 4/11/23. I posted the first chapter of that fic in July last year! I am so grateful for each and every one of you. I get so emotional every time someone reads one of my fics. Thank you for being here and being amazing. And I’m so glad you all like fandom bingo (which is still open)!! 🧡🧡🧡

I wanted to do something fun to celebrate. There are two parts -- vote and ask! I'll tag every post for this celebration with #bte600.

💗 VOTE: vote on the poll under the cut!! A week or so ago I did an ask game where people sent me made up fic titles and I told you what I would write for them. Well, I got a little carried away and came up with some ideas I'm actually pretty excited about. So now I want you to vote on which one I should actually write next! The poll will be open for a week.

🧡 ASK: Send me any of the emojis below – send me as many as you’d like! But please send one at a time.

❣️shout out Spread the love around and tell me about a fic, author, fan art, or artist on here that you love!

📜fic rec Give me a fandom and a direction and I’ll give you a fic rec. I’ve got more than 9000 bookmarks on ao3 lol bet I can find something! let me know preferences about ships, ratings, content, etc.

(fandoms I’ve read a lot in over the years: all the Pedro boys, Inception (Arthur/Eames), Captive Prince, LOTR/Hobbit, MCU, X-Men, 00Q, Star Trek (various ships), Mass Effect, The Raven Cycle (pynch), Teen Wolf (lol), Stranger Things, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Check Please!, The Witcher, The Sandman, Sherlock, Stargate Atlantis, RWRB, Merlin, ATLA… and more?)

❓question Send me any question, FMK, ask about a headcanon, ask about one of my fics, how I write, ask for commentary on a scene or line, whatever you’d like – I’ll answer it!

Remember, 💗 vote on the poll under the cut!!

Let's vote! Which one of these ideas should I work on next? (see more about each at the link) I had to cut one so I cut one of the Frankie ones that was very similar to something I just wrote.

🧡🧡🧡 thanks for being here!

tagging some mutuals for funzies:

@katareyoudrilling @beardedjoel @maggiemayhemnj @goodwithcheese @djarins-cyare

@jupiter-soups @undercoverpena @tightjeansjavi @morallyinept @trulybetty

@gasolinerainbowpuddles @huffle-punk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @jay-zzle @sheepdogchick3

@joelsgreys @davnittbraes @ghotifishreads @iknowisoundcrazy @jobean12-blog

@punkette1026 @macfrog @skittlesfics @morning-star-joy @futuraa-free

@sempersirens @theywhowriteandknowthings @pr0ximamidnight @janaispunk @toxicanonymity

@chronically-ghosted @beefrobeefcal @ladamedusoif @ilovepedro @javierpena-inatacvest

@kiwisbell @iamasaddie @mrsmando @corazondebeskar @minimeiser

@mermaidgirl30 @kedsandtubesocks @covetyou @nedgooel @wildemaven

@secretelephanttattoo @theclairvoyage @sawymredfox @julesonrecord

...

#followers celebration #i love y'all #joel miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #marcus pike x reader #javier peña x reader #din djarin x reader #marcus moreno x reader #dieter bravo x reader #ask me anything #bte600

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frannyzooey · 1 month

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The Date

Marcus Moreno x f!college student, The Secret Universe

Rating: E, age gap, heavy daddy kink y'all -- they are exploring it together ❤

A/N: all the thanks in the world goes to @the-scandalorian who reassures me every time I am worried the smut is not hitting -- your comments in the doc keep me going. thank you ❤ a special dedication to @swiftispunk who was really brave earlier this week and not only inspired me with that bravery, but also deserves a treat for it ❤

The door of the coffee shop swings open, cold air skimming across your back. Shifting your chair to angle yourself away from it, you glance down at your phone as it rings.

Marcus

Swiping right, you answer.

“Hi,” you grin.

“Hey, baby.”

His low voice flowing syrupy warm and deep into your ear, you play with the edge of a notebook page, still smiling.

“What’s up?”

“I’m at work, so I don’t have long, but I was calling to see what you’re doing this weekend. I’m free, and I was hoping you might be too?”

“Marcus Moreno. Are you asking me out on a date?” you tease.

You hear a low chuckle through the phone, and you press your finger over your earbud to drown out the espresso machine in the background.

“Yea I am, smart alec.” His scolding is laced with paternal endearment, and you smile wider. “I was thinking I’d pick you up tomorrow night after work?”

“Sure.”

“I gotta run into this meeting,” he says, and you can almost see him hurrying through the hallways, checking his watch. “But pack an overnight bag, okay? And put something pretty in there for me. I’m gonna take you to dinner.”

“Something pretty, huh? Kinda demanding, aren’t you?”

A small smile curls at the edge of your mouth and you can hear him match it with his own when he huffs a laugh, picturing the way his eyes crinkle at the corners with fondness.

“There’s this hotel I always pass on the way up north, with a dinner place underneath. I made a reservation for us.”

You shift in your seat, feeling almost shy. The premeditated planning and the thoughtfulness behind the idea makes you feel cherished, and for a reason you can’t fully explain, feminine. Delicate, meant to be taken care of. This grown man, thinking of you while he’s at the office, making plans to be with you later. Asking you to wear something pretty, just for him.

“That sounds perfect,” you reply. “I’ll pack tonight.”

“Great,” he answers.

His voice slips into something more hushed, as if he’s stepped to the side of a doorway before heading into a meeting room. “I’ll be thinking about you until I see you. Been thinking about you since I booked the room.”

So open with his affection, something stirs deep about the sweet sentiment of the words paired with their true meaning. With what you know he’s been thinking about.

“Oh yea? Anything you want to share with me now, over the phone?”

He lets out a soft, good humored groan. “I wish, baby. I wish I could.”

The sound of his voice coils something deep in your belly, warming you from the inside out. It’s always so overwhelming when he calls you and you have your earbuds in – especially when he lets out those soft groans. Made even more intimate due to the fact that your relationship is still a secret, it makes the low tone of his voice that’s just for you all the more arousing.

“Tell me on the drive up there?” you ask sweetly.

He lets out a slow breath into the receiver, and you close your eyes for a moment.

“Oh believe me, I will. Gotta run though. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You say your goodbye and hang up, your assignment forgotten as you stare out the window with a far away, content expression.

Taking a sip of your latte, you slide into a daydream: an image of him driving, the way his blue dress shirt pulls tight across his shoulders. Him checking into a hotel room, with the sort of casual confidence it requires. The soft brace of his hand on your back as he guides you through the carpeted hallways, the soft click of the door behind you.

Taking another sip of your drink, the images roll on from there; the coffee shop humming with life around you.

–

“Wow,” you say, walking into the room. Turning to him, you give him a shy smile. “Pretty fancy.”

“Yea, it’s not bad, huh.”

He tosses his key card on the dresser, placing your overnight bag down next to it. Clicking on the lamp, he bathes the room in warm, inviting light. The furnishings are understated but luxurious, the king sized bed enormous and lush. The sight of a single bed in the room sends warmth through the cradle of your hips and down, and a rolodex of images flashes quickly through your mind: crisp sheets, sweat slick skin, his broad, bare shoulders hooked under your knees.

His words interrupt your fantasy. “I thought I could let you get ready, and I’ll go down and get us a table? Order us a drink?”

It’s never been this way with anyone else. Something that drew you in from the first time you met him, he’s always been so caring and attentive. Always anticipating the situation and making a clear plan for it, always considering your desires and putting them first. Never to the detriment of his own, but rather alongside his. Because he likes it. Because he can’t help doing it. Like it’s second nature, after spending so many years as a single dad.

Still, every time he offers to do something before you ask, you find yourself touched. So considerate and thoughtful – while booking you a room with the clear intention of doing something depraved in it.

“Don’t take long, okay?” he says, stepping closer. His hands curl around your hips, and you turn to fully face him. Letting your touch find his firm chest, you splay your fingers over the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, warm with his body heat.

“I won’t,” you promise.

Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss to your mouth, one you chase when he pulls away. Studying your face closely for a moment, his expression softens.

“You know, you can say it here if you want.”

Immediately understanding what he’s referring to, you swallow, vulnerability spreading across your features.

“I want you to,” he softly encourages.

You bite your bottom lip for a moment, hesitating. You haven’t said it since that night in his guestroom, but the memory of it has brought you to release more than once. The word has echoed in your mind for weeks; his lust-soaked groan after you said it fills your mind every time you close your eyes.

The definitive statement of his encouragement gives you courage as he meets you halfway with a vocalization of his own secret want. A seemingly large leap to take, you know he’ll catch you when you fall – he always does.

“Okay,” you agree.

His expression so achingly soft yet with an undercurrent of lust hidden in the depths of his dark eyes, he leans in again, skimming his nose across your cheekbone with a featherlight brush. His hands gently tug your hips closer, and his mouth finds the soft hollow beneath your ear. Pressing a kiss there, he gives you another, and another, his tongue tasting your skin.

Your head lolls to the side, and your eyes slip shut, focusing on the plush, warm give of his mouth.

“Say it,” he whispers, and you melt into him, a heavy ache pooling inside you.

You focus on the wet glide of his tongue and the solid sturdiness of his body in your grip, and the word comes pouring out of your mouth, saturated and soaked with want.

“Daddy.”

A soft groan catches in the back of his throat, the sound pressing into the delicate skin of your neck. His fingers tighten in their hold, and he gives you another lingering kiss. His teeth scrape against the slope of it this time, his mustache tickling your skin and when you let out an involuntarily whimper, his mouth gets more demanding, his grip tightening as he sucks, the bulge of his stiffening cock nudging along the top of your thigh as he flexes his hips towards you –

And then he’s pulling himself back with his eyes closed, a small frown gathered between his brows. Trying to rein his desire in, he lets his forehead rest against yours for a moment, collecting himself with a sigh.

“Good girl,” he praises you, the warm words ghosting humid across your lips.

Your fingers curl into the smooth fabric along his sides, and you resist the urge to tuck your face into the crook of his neck to hide how much the endearment affects you.

You cling to him for a moment, waiting for his body to settle and then he takes a step back, scrubbing his jaw with his hand and blowing out a heavy breath. Swiping the key off the dresser, he pats his pockets to make sure he has everything he needs.

“I’ll be downstairs at the bar.” He takes a step towards the door, and then stops, hesitating. His eyes drop down your body and back up again, taking their time. “Seriously, don’t take long.”

Laughing, you wave him out the door, standing in place with a grin as you watch it close behind him.

–

The white wine he ordered pairs with the delicious food just right, and though you want to eat more, you stop yourself, not wanting to get too full. So you share with him instead, eating off each other’s plates as you talk.

It’s been a couple weeks since you’ve seen him last, and he covers every topic: school, your schedule, how you’ve been spending your free time, what books you’ve been reading. He wants to know it all, just like he seems to want to touch it all, with the way his hands never leave you. The warm weight of his hand on the top of your thigh makes you bold, the proximity of his fingers to your core a bright, beckoning pressure.

You lean in, asking him to name at least one of the things he promised he would tell you in the car.

Watching the waiter come over with a refill of your wine, he whispers in your ear.

“I can’t stop thinking about your pussy. How much I want it.”

The filthy words are a direct contrast to the way he seems so outwardly relaxed and polite, and the words play on a loop in your mind when he presses a gentle kiss just under your ear.

His solid body fits against the length of yours in the booth after you’re finished eating and then again out on the small, intimate dance floor. Feeling bashful at the slightly old fashioned request, you take his hand and let him lead you out to it, winding your arms around his neck.

One of his hands splayed across your lower back with a protective hold, the other one strokes along your side, seeking out the smooth fabric of your dress. Waves of romantic music guide your swaying steps and lightheaded with drink, with happiness and with him, you rest your face at the corner of his jaw, breathing him in.

The picture of romance to anyone observing, you pull back just enough to look at him sweet and soft – before opening your mouth.

“I think I’m ready to go upstairs now.”

His steady gaze just as intoxicating as his charm and attentiveness has been tonight, you hold it and tilt your chin up, lowering your voice even more.

“Take me to bed, daddy.”

The only outward tell of the effect your words have on him are his hands tightening in their hold, but you can feel his body subtly stiffen the way it’s pressed against yours. He waits until the song is done, and then he’s leading you off the dance floor, the weight of his hand resting on your tailbone all the way to your room.

When he steers you inside, you expect him to turn on the lights…but he doesn’t.

His hands cupping your jaw, he kisses you instead.

“You looked so beautiful tonight.”

The words are whispered into the darkness, the only light in the room coming through the sheer curtains. The firmer edges of him meet your softer ones: a deft, skillful handling of your dress as he takes it off, his dry palms skating over your bare skin as he unhooks your bra and tosses it onto the floor, the delicate brush of his fingertips as he slides your panties down your legs and off.

Sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing bare between his spread thighs, there is something so…erotic, about the way he just looks. By contrast, he is still in everything he wore tonight, save for the shoes he slipped off when you walked into the room and you fight the urge to squirm under his attentive, reverential gaze. He takes his time, his hands exploring every slope of your skin he can reach.

“When we were downstairs,” he starts, looking up at you with doleful, heavy lidded eyes, “I just kept thinking about how much I wanted to come back to the room. How much I wanted to undress you and see what was waiting, just for me.”

His touches get heavier, more weighted, slightly more needy when he palms the weight of your breast in his hand and you watch the slow swallow of his throat, a steady throb beating between your thighs. Slick pools sticky and wet along your seam, smearing across his fingertips when he nudges them between the soft skin of your thighs, skating his touch through the silky curls that cover your cunt.

“This is mine, right?” His voice drops into a low husk, his eyes on where he’s touching you.

“Yes,” you answer shakily, trying not to succumb to the weight of your want.

“I wanted so bad to taste this instead of the food we were eating.”

He does then, bringing his fingers to his mouth with a frown and a soft groan and a suck, and you bend at the waist, cupping his jaw to bring his mouth to yours. Kissing him fiercely, you crawl onto his lap.

“Do you want it just as bad as I do, baby?” he breathes, molding his lips against yours. His arm hooks around your back, tugging your body against his. His broad hand settles on your hip, a slight tremble to his hold. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” you confess.

Getting lost in the cool sensation of his clothes against your heated skin, one hand grasps the collar of his shirt, and the other wraps around the nape of his neck. Grinding yourself down onto the stiff heft of his cock, it strains through his pants beneath you. His mouth demands more from yours, and the anticipation that’s been building in you since yesterday when he called breaks, the words rushing out against his lips.

“I want you to eat my pussy, daddy. I want you to taste it.”

Only the third time tonight that you’ve let yourself say it, he growls, flipping you onto your back. Covering you with the weight of his body, he guides your still moving hips against his own with a weighted grind just for a moment, and then he’s pulling himself away to sink to his knees on the side of the bed, tugging you swiftly to the edge.

“Marcus.”

The moan you let out is guttural and loud when he gives your cunt an open mouthed kiss, his head shaking “no” between your legs.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pant. Your fingers slipping through his hair to press him closer, his tongue swirls heavy around your clit, his shoulders spreading you wider as you grind against his face.

“Daddy.”

The rumble of his corresponding groan of approval is felt deep inside you, and there is an urgency that slips into his movements as his grasping hands cup your breasts with a squeeze, smooth down your torso with a weighty drag, and wrap around the back of your knees to push you open wider for him. When you come in his mouth, he buries the bottom half of his face with a groan of satisfaction, letting you ride it out against his chin.

Leaving you breathless and sated for the moment, he stands and strips his clothing quickly. Buttons ripped open and shirt untucked, belt undone before he pushes everything down and off, he impatiently tugs his undershirt over his head before he’s crawling up on the bed to join you. Your eyes drop to his cock, bobbing with weight as he makes his way over to you and you think he’s going to spread your legs to make room for himself, but instead he stretches out alongside you, pulling you in for a kiss.

Your taste thick on his tongue, he waits until you’re restless in your movements against him, and then rolls over on his back, guiding you on top.

He’s a lot like this, in this position. His cock thick to begin with, the stretch of it takes his mouth to get you ready to begin with, but paired with the weight of your body as it presses him deeper inside you, your breathing hitches as you work him in. Overwhelmed with fullness, you squirm on his lap and rocking your hips forward just to feel him slide inside of you, you tip your head back with a moan.

“Daddy.”

His hands envelop your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your peaked nipples. He plays with them, forcing his hips up to meet yours.

“Daddy, please.” You’re begging, but you don’t even know for what.

The sensation of him beneath you and inside you, the relief of saying the name you have for him in your heart. You know he brought you here so you’d feel more comfortable saying it, and so you do. You let the word spill into the dark room, absorbed by the walls – spill, spill, spill out of your mouth just like he does down your throat, tucking himself into the deepest parts of your body.

The quiet intimacy, the warm, dry, comforting hold of his big hands as they move you on top of him, the solid strength in his body between your flexing thighs – it all swirls into something intensely arousing, sending shivers along your skin, your breath catching in your throat.

Your moans are breathless as you start to ride him, pleading for him all the same. “Please daddy. It feels so good.”

Everything centered between your legs, he buries himself to the hilt and makes you grind down on it, filling you to the brim.

“That’s my girl, letting go like that. Do you need more?”

You shake your head, your teeth pulling at your bottom lip as you focus on how deep he is.

“No. No, it’s just – “ Your hips work faster; a groan spilling out of his outstretched throat. The sound makes you look down at him and he is wrecked underneath you. “You feel so good. So good.”

His thumb rubs circles against your clit, a groan crawling out of his chest when you clench hard around him. “I want you to come on it, baby, okay?”

His hair mussed against the white pillow, his glasses askew on the bedside table. His plush mouth, open in a pant as he watches you ride him.

These are things that only you get to see, and similar, contrasting images flash through your mind: his thumb a slick drag over your clit (wrapped around the steering wheel as he drove here), his open mouth, begging just for you (smiling politely at the receptionist as she checked you in), his fingers hooked around his drink tonight at dinner (the same ones that have been buried inside you and tucked into your mouth).

His broad back at the sink as he does the dishes; the same one filling the space between your spread thighs. The voice that makes polite conversation with his coworkers; the husky, filthy orders given to you in the privacy of your room.

This reserved man; this depraved man. This good father who loves to debase his daughter’s best friend.

This unassuming and handsome man with a want cradled within him so deeply that no one can tell — no one but you, who gets the brunt of his tightly held restraint that spills loose every time you’re alone.

No one knows him like this. Only you.

You come on top of him, and then he’s rolling you onto your back again, before sitting back on his heels and tugging you up onto his lap. You don’t even have time to brace yourself before he’s smearing the wet tip of his cock along the curve of your ass, guiding himself to sink back inside your soaked cunt with a groan. The snap of his hips is harsh and hard, your fingers digging into his shoulders for purchase and when you let out a soft sob, his arms wind tightly around you.

Secure and safe, he cradles against his broad chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, and all mine. All mine,” he chants, pressing kisses along the slope of your shoulder.

His hand slides down to rest against your lower back, and when he pushes the weight of his hold along it to grind you harder against him, your back tries to bow with pleasure, but he holds you so tightly you can’t. A couple rocks of his hips upwards that have you trembling against him, and then he’s pushing his hand between your bodies, seeking out your clit.

“Daddy,” you plead, your hand wrapping around his thick wrist as his fingers work, work, work.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he praises breathlessly. “Such a good girl. I’m almost there, I just want you to come again. Can my sweet girl come for me again?”

You could – you’re already halfway there with the way he won’t stop playing with your clit while he fucks into you from below, and when you start to come, he holds you even tighter. The air squeezed from your lungs by his strong arm wound around your back and his nails scratch the skin between your shoulder blades as his own groan sounds deep and low over yours.

Pliant and loose on his lap as you come down, you are so wet it’s audible when he fucks half a dozen harsh strokes into you and when he comes, he forces you down onto his lap as tight as he can, his strong grip holding you in place as he floods you with his spend. The heavy rise and fall of his chest matches your own, and you feel the rumble of his deep, sated groans of relief against your sensitive breasts.

Tacky with sweat and the inside of your thighs sore, you shift to move, and his hold tightens.

“Stay,” he pants, hooking his chin over your shoulder to clutch you to him, bowing his head. “Stay.”

–

He’s so boyish when he’s on the verge of sleep.

His features lax, the wrinkles that surround his eyes softened. You play with the curls at the nape of his neck, the action soothing to both of you.

You think of how neat his hair is normally styled, and how much you like seeing this version more. Always so buttoned up for everyone else – so reserved, so polite and kind – and yet so undone, just for you. Flushed cheeks, loose curls, bright eyes flashing in the darkness.

Only you know what he looks like when he comes.

Only you know that he likes being your daddy.

A tide of gratefulness swells in your chest, and you whisper to him in the darkness.

“I love you.”

He stirs, lifting his arm to cover you with the weight of it. “Come here.”

You tuck yourself in along his body and when you’re shielded by the width of him, he presses a kiss to your temple, and then the apple of your cheek, pressing you closer.

“My sweet girl.” His words slur, his tone softening as he slips away. “I love you too.”

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno/you #marcus moreno/reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic

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pedroshotwifey · 2 months

Text

One Condition

This is actually a requested fic from the lovely @survivingandenduring! You can view the request here if you'd like!

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!reader x Ezra (Prospect)

Word count: 4.9k

Tags/warnings: unprotected piv sex, sex pollen trope, dubcon, unprotected anal sex, double penetration, oral sex, cum eating, so much cum like its kinda scary, Ezra being a nasty little freak, anal fingering, pain kink, big fat juicy plot twist, this is absolutely nasty shit, stuff I'm probably forgetting, I'm actually not sorry at all for this

Summary: You and your partner, Marcus Pike, get stranded on an inhabited planet and run into problem after problem. You find yourselves in a compromising position that requires help from a strange man, who comes to you with one condition.

A/N: Uhhh. don't look at me 🫣

*****

“Um, Marcus?”

You look at your partner, who has the same worried expression on his face as you.

“Yup.”

It’s not a question. You’re both thinking the same thing; you’re in the wrong place.

It looks similar to the planet you were supposed to be landing on, but most of the scenery here is a lush green instead of the blue hues you’d been expecting. It’d looked the exact same from above the atmosphere, but there is a clear difference now that you’re on the surface.

Marcus mutters a curse under his breath but begins the landing sequence anyway. That’s probably for the best; that way the two of you can figure out where you really were, and then where you actually need to be going.

Dust comes up around your shuttle as you touch ground, the greenery around you rustling a bit as the jets power down. You get up from your seat when you feel the craft settle enough for the floor to be stable.

Marcus follows, shutting everything down and then unbuckling himself from the pilot’s chair. You’re already on the other side of the small contraption, looking through the maps you have stored in the tiny compartment of the far wall. He comes up next to you and pulls up the planet encyclopedias, trying to find a description that matches the world you’ve landed in.

You spend the next few minutes flipping through various books and maps until Marcus comes across a planet that matches. He hands the book over and points at the section.

“Here,” he points. “It looks like we're on a sister planet to the one we’re supposed to be on.”

You hum in agreement, reading the small passage provided next to the picture.

“Alright, well, let’s get her powered back up.”

Your partner sighs, running a hand over his face. You furrow your brows. His face has paled a bit and he seems a bit reluctant to follow your request.

“Is there a problem?”

“Yeah, actually. We’re out of fuel,” he admits, trying and failing miserably to maintain eye contact.

You gape at him.

“Marcus! You were supposed to fill her up before we fucking left! It says here that there’s no civilization!”

He nods along as you scold him, knowing it’s well deserved.

“Yeah, I know. I forgot until we were halfway here, but I knew it would take just enough to get us on planet, and we could get more from there. It’s not like I knew that we would be landing on the wrong planet” He spews it out, not defensive exactly, but regretful.

You groan and walk back to the front of the ship, checking the fuel gauge.

“We’re running on fumes right now, I don’t know if it’s going to be enough to get us to the neighboring planet.”

You look at him, trying to keep your anger from showing up because you know that it was genuinely an accident, and Marcus isn’t usually one to mess up like this. But of course when he does, you get stranded on an unknown planet.

Rubbing your eyes, you walk in a circle around the floor, trying to think of a plan. You can feel Marcus’s guilty eyes following you until you come to a stop.

“Okay,” you start. “The book said that this planet is typically only used for mining aurelac, right?”

Marcus nods slowly, obviously confused as to where you’re going with this.

“Well then there should be at least a few miners on planet in that case, right?”

He nods again, furrowing his brows in thought.

“So we should go out and try to find someone to borrow some fuel from?” he asks.

“Yes. Either that or see if there’s someone who can hitch us a ride.”

He sighs and puts his hands on his hips, his gaze downcast to the floor as he thinks through the options.

“Yeah, seems like our best bet,” he agrees after a minute.

Within a few minutes, you both pack small bags and suit up to withstand the harsh environment of the planet. According to the book, the air is extremely thin and can sometimes hold toxic chemicals depending on other factors. You follow Marcus out of the craft and watch as he makes sure everything’s sealed correctly, before you both start walking into the woods.

“Do you know where you’re going?” you ask after you’ve been walking for a while.”

Marcus looks at you, his expression still holding hints of guilt.

“Not exactly. I think most of the mines are located in the forest though, so we’ll just have to keep walking and hope we come across—”

“Shit, Marcus!”

You yell for him as he stumbles across a root and tumbles down into a pit. It’s not super deep, but just enough so that he could have seriously hurt himself with that fall. You carefully slide down the side of it to join him.

“Are you okay?”

He looks up at you from where he’s planted on his back and groans a bit. He opens his mouth to reply and that’s when you see that his mask is on the ground next to him, crushed into several pieces.

“Shit,” he croaks, already feeling the effects of the thin air.

You crouch down beside him, feeling him up for any injuries.

“Does anything hurt?”

“Just my head. It’s fucking pounding.”

You sigh. “Probably from lack of airflow.”

“C’mon,” you grunt, threading your arms under his. “Let’s get you back and hope that you don’t die.”

He glares at you but allows you to help him into a sitting position.

“Well, isn’t this unfortunate? Two little birds trapped in a cage.”

You both jolt at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. You peer up to the top of the pit and find a man standing near the ledge, a blaster aimed directly at your head. He wears a shabby, brown suit with a bulbous helmet that would be almost funny looking if not for the imminent threat he poses. You slowly raise your hands and start to stand back up, a rush of fear creeping up your spine.

“We’re not armed,” you start. “My friend’s mask just broke; we need help.” You try not to sound too panicked as you explain your situation to the stranger, praying to whoever may be listening that he’s not planning to shoot both of you.

“Don’t worry gem, I don’t want to kill you. I simply would like to assure myself that neither of you had plans of my own execution.”

You furrow your brows at his choice of wording, his strange drawl only adding to your confusion.

“I, uh. No.” What else can you really say to that?

You glance down at Marcus and see the same befuddled expression on his face.

“I will warn you that your…friend”—he cocks a brow at you as he says it—”has chosen a rather unfortunate time to lose his filtration system. Assuming, of course, you haven’t already discovered the effects of the tainted oxygen.”

You shake your head as your mouth goes dry.

“Is—is he going to be okay?”

The stranger pauses for a moment as if in thought. He cocks his head and then looks back at you.

“He should be as long as he receives the assistance he should require.”

“What do you mean by that?” This comes from Marcus.

The stranger frowns and lowers his gun, which he seems to have just remembered he was still holding up.

“Are you not familiar with this planet’s cycles?”

You both shake your heads.

The man sighs and kneels on the ledge extending a hand. You stare at it, neither of you making a move toward him.

“Do you want to stay in this pit? I think it would be rather unsanitary to do so under your current circumstance.”

You flash another glance at Marcus, who nods slightly toward you, encouraging you to take the other man’s hand. You step forward and place your palm in his, allowing him to pull you up, and then you kneel to help him hoist Marcus up as well.

“I’m Ezra,” the man says once the three of you are standing. You introduce the two of you as well, figuring at this point that the stranger has to be at least mostly harmless.

“Alright, well tell me, little bird; are you and Marcus of the romantic type?”

You just stare at him, unsure of how to answer that, nor of why he would feel the need to ask in the first place. You can feel Marcus’s eyes on you as your cheeks begin to burn.

“I–uh…”

You let your eyes meet your partner’s, a silent conversation transpiring. You’ve engaged in some less than appropriate activities throughout your travels, but it’s always been strictly for stress release or simply a product of boredom. The last few months, it’s been more of an unspoken thing.

The two of you care for each other and behave as most couples would, but you’ve never actually given each other the labels. You definitely never thought that the deciding conversation would be in the presence of a strange man who seems to be about to deliver some bad news. You’re about to answer when Marcus gives you a short nod, lifting the burden off of your shoulders.

“Yeah, we are.”

The man nods, though he’s clearly amused. You’re sure he can see what just happened and must have used context clues to figure the rest out out.

“That’s fortunate for you. What’s circulating in the air currently is what could be described as an aphrodisiac. I’m sure you’re familiar with such?”

You and Marcus exchange yet another glance.

“Yes, we’ve heard of them,” you say.

“Do you have a craft nearby?” Ezra asks, peering behind you as if he could spot one he missed before.

You hesitate before answering. Even if he’s seemed to be helpful so far, can you really be sure it isn’t a trap?

“We have a shuttle,” you decide on just to be on the safe side. “We’re out of fuel though. That’s why we're out here in the first place,” you add just in case the man has some extra laying around for some miraculous reason.

Just then, you near a heavy thud and a groan. You spin on your heel to find Marcus keeled over, his hands over his groin and his exposed skin covered in a layer of sweat more intense than what’s normal for this climate. You’re on your knees beside him within a second, your hands running over him until he flinches away as if you’d burned him.

“Marcus! What’s happening?” You aim your question at Ezra, who’s still standing above the two of you with an almost pitying expression.

“The effects are getting to him, little dove. I’m afraid you’re going to need to help him in a timely manner.”

You think for a moment, knowing getting your partner all the way back to your shuttle is going to be a difficult task in the state that he’s in.

“I have a camp not too far from our current location, I’m willing to offer up the space on one condition. And before you protest, we both know it’s not safe to engage in life saving activities out here in the open.”

You stiffen at this. Of course there’s a catch; it’s not common to receive help from a random stranger without them expecting anything in return. You glance down to make sure his gun is still in its holster before narrowing your eyes at his face, not liking the way his smile has turned a bit wolfish.

“What do you want? We don’t have any coin.”

“Oh, no, gem. I don’t want your profits. I simply desire to join you and your handsome partner. It’s been a long time since I had something other than my own fist to keep me company.”

“What?” you bark, slightly humiliated that he would suggest something like that, regardless of how handsome he may be. “No, I’m sleeping with a stranger in exchange for shelter!”

“Now don’t get feisty, dove. I didn’t say it had to be you,” he says, watching Marcus with a newfound hunger. “Though it would probably be fortunate for your friend here that it was, assuming he is of the hetero kind.”

“Don’t,” Marcus croaks, looking up at you the best he’s able to.

You’re torn, knowing that Marcus needs help quick, but not wanting to give either of you up to this man. When it comes down to it though, you’re always going to choose what’s best for your partner. You look up at the man with disdain, knowing that you’re not going to have much of a choice here.

“Fine. But not him.”

Ezra’s smile broadens.

“Very well, gem. Right this way.”

He turns around and waits for you to get a near-delirious Marcus about halfway up so he’s propped by one of your shoulders. Noticing your struggle, Ezra comes to his other side and mirrors your position, one hand supporting around his waist.

As you walk, Marcus’s temperature keeps rising and his groans get worse. Fortunately, the man wasn’t lying when he said he had a camp nearby; you only have to walk for about a minute before coming across it.

He opens up the flap as you get closer, taking the zipper all the way down and helping you ease Marcus in. As you lay him down, you can see the bulge in his flight suit; almost twice what is normal. You hear Ezra zip the opening back up and then step in behind you.

“F-fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t–”

Marcus cuts himself off as he shakily pulls down the zipper on his suit, revealing his undershirt and boxers. His hand goes down the latter not a second later, a pornographic moan coming from him as his hand makes contact with his engorged cock. He starts stroking himself under the fabric, panting heavily, and it makes your mouth go dry despite the circumstances.

“Shit, I-it’s not enough,” he grits out, pumping furiously. There are tears in his eyes as he looks at you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Better help him quick, little bird,” Ezra quips from behind you, already removing his attire as well. You comply, though for which man you’re not sure.

You strip quickly, the three of you tearing your own clothes off at the same time, each of you stark naked at the end. You feel so exposed between the two of them, especially with Ezra, who doesn’t help at all by giving a lewd whistle at the sight of your bare body.

You give him a look so nasty that you’re surprised he doesn’t drop dead. He raises his hands in defense.

“Woah, little bird, I meant it only as a praise.”

You ignore him and turn to Marcus, who’s just now shoving his boxers off. You gasp when his dick springs up, heavy, red, throbbing, and leaking an obscene amount of precum. It’s swollen to a point that looks almost painful.

You swallow your nerves and try your best to ignore Ezra as you instruct Marcus to lay down on the cot. He tugs you with him, feral to get to you at this point. You fall over him and he immediately starts sucking and licking all the skin he can get to, his hips thrusting up into nothing.

You see Ezra move out of the corner of your eye, taking a seat in the single chair inside the small tent. You lift your head as much as you can to make sure he’s not going to try anything.

“Carry on, gem. I’m a patient man; I can wait my turn.”

If you’re being honest, he looks a little too smug.

Suddenly Marcus is flipping you over, shoving you down to the bed on your back, whispering something you can’t quite catch. He doesn’t wait another second before you feel his cock at your underprepared cunt, and your eyes barely have a chance to go wide before he’s forcing himself into you, groaning wildly as he tugs you down onto him.

It’s only then that you realize he had been whispering “sorry”.

You scream and your hands come up to reflexively try to get him off. There are tears as he keeps shoving himself in, stretching you to your limit. Through your blurry vision, you can see tears in his as well, more of shame than of pleasure by his sympathetic expression.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“N-no,” you squeak even as your hands claw at his back from the discomfort. “It’s okay. Don’t stop. Even if I beg you to.”

You close your eyes and try not to focus on the uncomfortable feeling between your legs as Marcus begins to unrelentingly slam his hip into yours. You hear a sound coming from beside you, and turn to see Ezra pumping himself through your blurry vision. It’s a sight that really shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

You moan despite yourself as the pain coming from your sore cunt turns into pleasure. You’re getting wetter and wetter as the seconds tick by, the glide of your partner’s cock becoming easier and more toe-curling. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he starts to punch that spot deep inside you. You’re getting hot fast, sweat building up in every crease and crevice as your pussy seems to get more hungry for what Marcus is feeding it.

Each thrust sends you up the bed, but Marcus holds onto you so that you don’t go too far. He’s grunting like a feral animal, his body maneuvering every which way until he finds the position that provides him with the most momentum.

“Ohh that feels so fucking good, baby,” he hisses through his teeth. “Gods, you always take me so f-fucking well.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this before—with this level of vulgarity. You whimper, making eye contact with Ezra as Marcus nails something even more delicious within you. His gaze is heavy and on your face rather than on your body, which surprises you as much as it flatters you.

“Does she suck cock just as well?” Ezra’s deepened voice comes from the chair, his eyes still on you as he asks the question.

Marcus looks down at you, albeit with heavy lids, for your consent. You nod, already fucked out beyond thinking clearly.

“Better,” comes Marcus’s reply, his stare just as heavy as Ezra’s. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

You moan at the thought of being taken from both ends, one of the domineering men on each side. This is going much better than anticipated, both your mind and body opening to the stranger despite your earlier protest.

Ezra doesn’t have to be asked twice, already getting up to hover his thick cock over your face, slapping it gently against your lips. The cot is the perfect height for him to stick it into your mouth, though he waits.

“You want this, gem?”

You almost find it funny that he’s asking, considering he didn’t give you much of a choice earlier. You nod anyway, because you honestly do, your gaze is trained on it as your mouth waters. He threads one hand through your hair, pulling you into the right position, and then uses his tip to part your lips.

He moans as he sinks in, his eyes fluttering shut as you immediately wrap your tongue around him. You find yourself groaning at his salty taste, savoring the weight of him as you start to pull him in. Your cunt throbs as he and Marcus both moan out at the same time, Marcus doubling over while Ezra bottoms out.

Marcus brings one hand to your clit and begins rubbing up and down at a furious pace that would have made you scream if not for the other man’s cock in the way. Tears leak from your eyes as Ezra begins to pump in and out of you, his hips thrusting as he uses the hand in your hair to hold you where he wants.

“Oh you feel devine, little gem,” he moans, his eyes still closed and his lips parted as he picks up the pace. You can feel him hitting deep inside your throat, making you resist the urge to choke. It’s overwhelming but in the best way.

“Oh, fuck!” Marcus nearly shouts the curse as his hips stutter. “Come with me baby, come on,” he urges, moving his hand quicker.

Your back arches up at the feeling, though you’re still pinned by both men. Suddenly, everything flashes white, your hearing going dull as your entire body convulses with the power of your orgasm. You have just enough brain capacity to think that this has got to be the highest level of pleasure attainable.

It goes on forever, your pussy pulsing as you sob and moan around Ezra’s cock. You faintly hear Marcus’s own moans and feel his dick twitch and throb within you, coating your walls in his creamy white spend.

You don’t even realize you had closed your eyes until you open them again upon feeling your own drool dribbling down your cheeks to mix with your tears. Ezra coos down at you, wiping away the saliva though he doesn’t dare slow his pace.

“M-messy little bird,” he laughs.

You glance back down at Marcus the best you can just to realize that he’s still hard as a fucking rock. He’s still riding out his own high, rocking slowly to prolong it as much as possible. His eyes flick back up to yours after a moment, and then to Ezra’s who watches him intently as he continues to defile your throat.

The gurgling sounds coming from you should be downright disgusting, but they only add to the eroticness of what the three of you are doing right now. The tent seems to have filled with the thick scent and humidity of sex, making your head even more foggy than provided by your orgasm.

Ezra’s not far after the two of you, grunting heavily and pulling on your hair to a painful level. He pulls out and strokes himself over your face, letting his cum splatter across your features right after you close your eyes. His thumb comes to your lips, making you open your mouth as he moans aloud.

Some of his seed falls on your tongue, and you swallow it down as Ezra finishes the last few spurts. You open your eyes when you’re sure he’s done, panting and gasping despite your sore throat.

It’s at the same time that the two men pull away from you, and you’re extremely confused until you see that they’re maintaining eye contact, seeming to have had a silent conversation while you’d been distracted.

Suddenly, you’re being lifted by the both of them, your body being rearranged to their preference. You’re so fucking tired, but you do your best to comply with their actions. You’re being lifted onto Ezra’s lap when you finally understand their plan.

His cock is only half-hard after his orgasm, but he begins rutting himself against you regardless as Marcus disappears from your line of sight. You half-collapse on Ezra, moaning as your clit gets stimulated thanks to his thrusts.

“Second drawer, pretty boy,” he pants. You hear shuffling and then Marcus returning behind you before you get the chance to ask what he was doing. There’s a pop from behind you, and then a cold substance at your ass.

You yelp at the unexpected feeling, only to be shushed by Ezra.

“Hush now, gem. I’ve heard you have experience in this area.”

He smirks at you as your cheeks heat.

You moan suddenly as Marcus slips a finger past your tight ring of muscle, pumping a good few times before adding a second. He leans close and whispers praise into your ear, telling you how good you’re being for them, how well you’re taking it all.

He works you up to three fingers before he pulls his hand from you and helps lift you up, propping you up enough for Ezra to notch his tip at your thoroughly soaked cunt. You help the slow descent down his shaft, your lips parting and eyes pinching shut at the sensation.

Ezra chokes on a groan, squeezing both of your ass cheeks as you bottom out.

“Fuck, little birdy, your heavenly cunt should be reserved for those of immortal status.”

You don’t even have the energy to cringe at his wording, instead savoring the way he fills you so nicely, not as long as Marcus, but a good bit thicker. The coarse hairs above his cock rub against your oversensitive clit nicely, making you want to rut against him. Just then, you feel Marcus settle in behind you again, dragging you partially onto his lap so you’re over his cock.

“Ready, sweetheart?” He asks, clearly having regained some of his gentlemanly status after quelling his lust a bit. You whimper and nod at him, and he starts to push inside of you.

“Oh, Gods,” you moan, wrapping your arms around Ezra’s back and digging your nails in for stability. He hisses and increases his grip on your ass, keeping you spread for Marcus as his hips come flush against you.

You’re already so full it’s dizzying, so when the two men start to move, you think you may come on the spot. Ezra goes first, pulling out a bit and then sinking back in, which is when Marcus makes his move, repeating the other man’s actions. Your knees are planted on the cot, giving you the opportunity to move with them.

The three of you are panting, moaning messes, hot breaths fanning across each other’s skin as you nuzzle together. The pace starts out slow, but quickly picks up, increasing your combined noises. Both of the men start to grab at you, moving their hands and groping anything and everything they’re able to.

You can feel their cocks rubbing against your middle wall, creating an intoxicating feeling that you know you’ll miss when this is over. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, being so full you can feel them in your stomach.

Small whimpers begin to spill from your mouth, but are quickly caught by Ezra, who captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his spend from earlier mixed between your tongues. It’s difficult to keep it up with how much you’re being jostled, so he gives up after a moment and instead opts to lick his cum off of your sweaty cheek. You’re pleasantly surprised when you feel Marcus’s hand come up to grasp at your chin, tilting your face so that he’s able to do the same on the opposite side.

The two of you clean your face with their tongues as they thrust into you at a punishing pace, somehow hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. You let out a raspy groan, your hands scrambling over both of their bodies for purchase.

A heat is beginning to build once again in your abdomen, pleasure licking up your spine. It only takes a few more alternating thrusts before you’re coming around their cocks with a scream. You tighten around both of their throbbing cocks, getting them closer to their own ends.

Marcus comes first once again, still slightly affected by the drug from earlier. He bites onto your shoulder as he busts inside of you, slamming his hips up and locking in place, his hands coming up to squeeze your tits as his balls empty into your ass.

Ezra follows right after, seemingly liking Marcus’s idea of a gag, and biting into your other shoulder. You scream again at the pressure of both men’s teeth, your arms raising so you can grasp both of their hair, holding them close.

Your orgasm lingers for as long as theirs do, the three of you coming completely down at the same time. You stay in a sweaty heap for a long time, just trying to catch your breath and make sense of what’s real and what’s not.

You all fall apart after a few minutes, exhaustion officially taking over you. You can feel both of the men’s cum leaking from your holes as they pull out and help you lay comfortable on the cot. They get situated next to you, and you’re all out like lights within the next minute.

The next morning, Ezra’s waiting for the two of you with a portable can of fuel and an extra mask. Your departure is swift and unawkward, Ezra walking with the two of you back to your ship like you’ve known each other for years. It takes a bit longer than it should due to your body being practically fucking wrecked from last night, but both of the men help you get along.

When you reach your craft, you all say your goodbyes, knowing this will more than likely be the last time you’ll come across this strange man. To be frank, you’re still a bit confused about what exactly transpired last night, but you choose to ignore it. Your head is pounding with what feels like the worst hangover you’ve ever had, and you’re just eager to get off of this nightmare planet.

Ezra watches you fuel up your craft and then take off, smiling and honestly quite satisfied with himself. Neither of you even figured it out that he was the one who planted the trap and laced the dirt pit with the drug, nor that he may have let a bit more slip inside his tent.

***** I mean really, do we really expect anything less from Ezra?

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palioom · 6 months

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day twenty-five - pregnancy

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

word count: 676

warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n; pregnancy kink, breeding kink, cowgirl position, creampie

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

“Oh, you look stunning, darling.” Marcus groaned, his huge hands smoothing over her belly, round with their child. “So gorgeous, can’t wait to see you grow more.”

She hummed, her hips rocking back and forth on top of him, head thrown back, her own hands groping at her breasts.

“You need to shut up, Marcus.” Her words caught on her moan, his hips jerking up, disturbing her rhythm momentarily before she could catch herself again. “Getting off more to my belly than my pussy, naughty boy.”

He whimpered, unable to keep himself from rocking up into her again. So sensitive and desperate, her body making him lose his mind.

It was like she was teasing him all day, in her pretty summer dresses as she roamed around the kitchen, belly large and enticing, rock hard just at the sight of her.

And of course she had noticed just how much more touchy and close he had become ever since she had started to grow bigger, as if that was even possible with a man as attentive and loving as Marcus.

But he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, eating her out when he could, sneaking his hand below her dress as she was cooking in the kitchen, inviting her into his office just so he could bury himself inside of her.

“Can’t help it, sweetheart.” He moaned, watching her head roll forwards just to give him an amused grin. “You look so pretty when you’re pregnant."

She laughed, grinding down harder, her hands leaving her breasts, immediately replaced with his, to move down to his chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples, another sweet moan making her clench around him.

Marcus was so easily flustered and aroused, hands twitching on her skin as she sped up just a little.

“Wanna fuck another baby into me right away, don’t you?” She asked, seeing the crease between his brows deepen, his eyes screwed shut while he nodded. “Love me like this so much, don’t you? Fuck, Marcus.”

He absolutely did, something about him was just crazy about her like this.

“Fill me up some more, honey.”

Squeezing her full breasts, it was almost enough to make him cum, imagining them leaking and round like this forever.

Her heavy weight felt heavenly on him, trying to meet her movements with his own thrusts, stopping when her fingers pinched his nipples. Always so demanding and in charge, even now, even like this.

“Gonna fill you up, you look so beautiful like this.” Voice hoarse, clearly close to bursting, his eyes opened to look at her again.

Those sweet, dark eyes so full of lust right now, desperate.

Changing the angle slightly, she ground into him, her clit receiving just the perfect amount of friction, his rough hands on her breasts only providing further stimulation, letting the coil inside her burst.

“Fuck, yes! Cum inside me, please, Marcus!” She cried out, losing her rhythm but trying to coax him over the edge too, nails digging into his skin. “Please, honey!”

Marcus couldn’t hold back much longer, her tight pussy gripping him too much to resist, his hands moving to her hips to push her down onto him as he spilled himself inside of her with a whine.

Soothing the skin with his thumbs as he slowly calmed down, helping her off of him and down onto the sheets.

“Are you serious about what you said, honey?” Marcus asked as he rearranged the pillows for her, making it more comfortable for her to lay down, his hand smoothing over her belly after. “You want more kids?”

She hummed, looking back at him with a tired smile.

“Yeah, you clearly enjoy making them and seeing me pregnant.”

A blush crept over his cheeks, leaning down to kiss her, lingering on her lips for a moment, then kissing her shoulder tenderly.

Just laying down behind her, a smile on his face as he slotted his body against hers, his hand still stroking her pregnant form.

He would really enjoy having more kids with her.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #kinktober 2023 #my writing

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flightlessangelwings · 7 months

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While we’re in Latino Heritage Month, let’s stop assuming your reader doesn’t know/speak Spanish in your reader insert fics. Especially if you’re writing for Pedro’s, Oscar’s or other Latino characters please.

EDIT: After some criticism of how this was originally phrased, let me change it into a question/request instead- Can we as writers please try to be more inclusive with our reader insert fics so poc and others can feel represented and see themselves too? Including taking out a quick throwaway line about reader not understanding Spanish. (Keeping the original phrasing above so anyone who missed the post to begin with can still see how I originally phrased it)

If you have a throwaway line of “he said in Spanish that you didn’t understand” or something similar, just take it out. Have something like “you didn’t hear” instead and let the reader interpret how they want. Or use italics to indicate Spanish. Or have the translation right there without mention of anyone translating for them. Simple. Or if you don’t want to/feel you cannot change it, then please have something in with your warnings so Latinos/poc can skip it if they choose.

And let me tell you why this is so frustrating (even for me as someone who is not a fluent speaker). It’s because Latinos look to these characters and actors for representation. We see ourselves in them. And when you clearly do not have a Latino person in mind when writing, you’re saying we don’t belong here. In a space where we should feel welcomed and celebrated. Representation matters. Inclusivity matters. Please try to be more inclusive with reader fics so we can all enjoy and immerse ourselves in your writing.

ALSO EDITING TO ADD MORE FROM A REBLOG SO EVERYONE CAN SEE MY CLARIFICATION: (under a cut for length)

This is nothing new, poc have been asking for years now to be inclusive in fics and yet it’s still a battle. We’re not asking for a lot, and certainly not asking anyone to change their style or creativity or anything like that. Literally simple edits: take out the word “blush” don’t mention hair, don’t mention not understanding Spanish, not making reader blood related to a white character, etc. Literally tiny things that would not change the story at all but make a world of difference.

Here’s an example too: a few years ago it was not common for writers to label the gender of their reader as it was usually assumed the reader would be a woman. But, people advocated to label readers as f/m/gn/whatever to be more inclusive and asked writers to strive for gender neutral readers when possible so that more readers felt seen and welcome. Now it’s a common thing to do. Why is making the readers race ambiguous any different?

Yes sometimes posts like this come across harsh, but know that they’re not meant to be. Poc aren’t trying to demand anything, we just ask to broaden your langauge when writing reader insert so more can see themselves in your work. It’s incredibly frustrating to ask for inclusivity and be met with hostility and rudeness in return and a refusal to think about poc so yes sometimes the wording gets harsh out of that frustration. But I encourage y’all to focus on the message more and maybe think about why poc in fandom get snippy like this. We do need to have an open conversation, yes. Just look in the comments at the Latinos and poc who are upset by the exclusion and feel hurt by it. How you you white fans feel if roles were reversed and none of the fics included you? Not fun, right?

And to those who say write it yourself: I do. I’ve been a x reader writer for years now and I do strive for inclusivity in my work. But I’m only one person and this is bigger than any one person. This isn’t about what I personally find acceptable or what I personally what. It should be a collective effort among writers as a whole to strive to include as many as possible in their works and not white code your readers. It’s not about demanding writers write it a certain way, it’s about asking writers to consider others who don’t look like them who also want the immersion and the escape that your fic brings.

#inclusivity #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #pedro pascal fandom #oscar isaac fandom #joel miller x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader #javier peña x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockely x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #marcus moreno x reader #marcus pike x reader #pero tovar x reader

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absurdthirst · 6 months

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Kinktober 2023: October 27th

Day 27: Wax Play, Glory Hole, Group Sex

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Sex clubs, anonymous sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingers, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, fantasizing, cream pie

|| 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.

He has needs. Needs that have been unfulfilled for so long since the death of his wife. Needs that he can’t bring himself to slack by dating and getting involved with someone. It’s still too raw, too painful. Plus, he doesn’t know how Missy would react to there being another woman in his life, in her life. She had loved her mother fiercely, still does, like Marcus does. It’s why he had started coming here.

Here, at The Hole, they are discreet. Very. Politicians, celebrities, and Heroes are among the regulars that come here to blow off steam in any manner of ways. Always anonymous and there are any number of pleasures to be had. He scans in with a card and inputs in what he is looking for. A room number will appear and that is where he will go. Or he could find someone by their room number. Certain people are always hosting in specific rooms and he knows the one that he continuously goes to.

Room 417. It’s almost like an addiction at this point. He doesn’t care though, because he knows what he will find when he opens the door. A perfect pussy on display, legs resting on hooks. Only the lower body is on display, apparently she doesn’t suck cock, or maybe her other half is at another glory hole, but he doesn’t think that’s the case. Not with the sounds she gives him.

Marcus Moreno is a Heroic. He’s a household name. However, here he’s just a number. One of hundreds that submit STI tests every week and participate in the pure debauchery of the club. This is where he can work out the stress of his job, of being a single father, out on that pretty pussy in room 417.

It’s always interesting when you are ‘the stirrups’. Oftentimes, you find that some men prefer to just get that anonymous blow job, but others, they want pussy. They want to sink into a wet cunt and fuck away whatever need they have. Or maybe your ass. You don’t mind it.

The space for your head, your torso, is a little boring. You normally close your eyes and meditate or just rest while you wait. Knowing that someone will eventually come. The small chime before the door opens makes your eyes pop open and you strain to hear them.

He’s quiet, shuffling into the room and stopping. Staring. Enjoying the view before he decides what he wants to do. It’s what he does every time to this cunt. What he’s found he loves doing. Marcus shifts forward and runs a single finger down the fold of the labia.

Your body twitches when you feel someone touch you. An involuntary response, that makes you giggle quietly. You do it nearly every time, you can’t help it.

Marcus grins. There’s something about that honest, raw response that he enjoys. One that makes this seem like more than an anonymous encounter. He pulls his finger away and slips two into his mouth to wet them.

“Look so pretty lying here.” He coos as he runs the now wet fingers up and down your exposed slit. “Just waiting for someone to come, huh?”

That voice. It makes you shiver every time and you’ve heard it quite a few times here. It makes you think of your boss, Marcus Moreno. That raspy baritone that you hear everyday at work. But it couldn’t be him. There’s no way a man like him would come to a place like this. But this is your indulgence, your fantasy. That Marcus is on the other side of that wall.

He hums when he sees the thighs relax, spreading even more in invitation. It’s always so beautiful when a woman accepts his touch. The people who say that consent is guaranteed since they are in the stirrups never witness the unfurling of their body’s. Never pay attention to the queues that are given. But they probably never think about pleasuring the person on their back either.

Whoever this man is, you always love when he is the one who comes. His fingers slowly, lazily get to know your sex. Like it’s the first time that he’s touched you, even though you know you’ve had him before. So when you get wet almost immediately, it’s in anticipation of what you know is coming.

Marcus groans at the first bit of arousal that coats his fingers. “Fuck, do you like the way I’m touching you? Let me know if you don’t like something, sweetheart.” He rubs the clit and then drags his fingers up and down the folds as he spreads the wetness. “A pretty pussy like this is made for pleasure.”

You moan softly. Plenty of men talk while they are with you. Immediately shoving their cocks into your cunt and talking about how wet or tight you are, when you’re not that fucking wet. It’s about their pleasure and they don’t really care about yours. Not your imaginary Marcus. He takes his time. He spends time doing more than just fucking you. He breaks you apart.

“One day I’m going to try your ass out.” It’s almost like he’s having a conversation with the woman he’s touching, but she never does more than moan or cry out normal phrases. That’s okay, all he wants is to hear her sweet voice, to see if it’s as familiar as he imagines. “But this sweet little pussy is too good. I’m addicted.”

Your eyes roll back, another moan bubbling up from your chest. In your mind, Marcus is hovering over you, those glasses discarded along with every stitch of clothing as he looks at you like you’re his entire world.

His fingers dip inside the tight little hole. Popping back out before going too deep and groaning when the walls try to tighten around them. “Now.” He shuffles to his knees in front of the contraption that exposes this cunt to his eyes. “Be a good girl and let me eat your pussy.” He orders, right before his mouth latches onto the clit and his fingers plunge deep.

You cry out, body jerking in pleasure and shock, even though you knew he would eat you out. This man does every time and your eyes flutter closed. Imagining that it's Marcus between your legs and your walls clench down around his fingers.

Marcus chuckles, loving how responsive this woman is. Her beautiful choked noises makes his hard cock twitch and throbs as it sticks straight up and he has to resist wrapping his free hand around it. Instead he grabs onto one hip and squeezes as his tongue curls around the clit and he sucks on it.

“Oh god.” You choke out, stomach twisting in pleasure and your hands slide up to cup your tits. Letting this man feast on your cunt like it’s an altar of worship. “So good baby, so good.”

Praise gets him. He misses it. Has missed it until room 417, until this pussy and the wonderful voice that comes with it. He knows that voice but he can never place it. Not that throaty, lust rough begging. He wants to hear more of it so he doubles down on the curl of his fingers and the flick of his tongue.

You can’t help but whimper and whine for him, this glorious, faceless man who sounds like your hopeless crush. He is so intent on your pleasure. Not a few passive licks to say he ate pussy, but this man treats your cunt like a five star meal. Devouring you like it would save the world.

Marcus moans into the folds. Feeling the arousal leaking out from around his fingers and sliding down the valley of this woman’s crack and literally dripping onto his cock where he is poised underneath the void of the table. It’s incredible and he wants more. He wants to feel and hear her cum. To have her break apart because of him.

You shudder and moan, practically shaking as you experience the way this gorgeously talented man works your body. Playing it like it is his personal instrument, one he has fine-tuned over decades. His thick, generously long fingers press deep and his tongue suckles on your clit again, making you wail out a wordless sound as you start to cum.

For a split second, he wishes he could see her face. To watch her mouth drop open before that delicious cry sounds out. Does she throw her head back? Are her eyes closed or blown wide? Those are the questions he wants answers as the walls start to spasm around his fingers, making him moan again.

He works you through it. Softening his mouth and fingers as he guides you through the most blissful orgasm you’ve had in years. Until your thighs stop shaking and his fingers are still inside you.

“Good girl, fuck you’re so good to me.” Marcus pants, nearly ready to cum himself as he slowly pulls his fingers out of the little hole they were buried in. “Always so good.” His fingers are coated in arousal and the thin strands web between his fingers and that perfect cunt. Stretching thin before finally breaking apart. She had cum.

“Can I fuck you, sweetheart?” It’s amazing how that request always makes your heart skip a beat. Asking after giving so much pleasure. Seeking out approval even though you are laying exposed for his pleasure. Fuck, you wish this was Marcus Moreno. It would solidify him as the complete hero in your mind. “Please.”

Marcus groans, immediately shuffling to stand. Her plea sounds so desperate. Like she needs him inside her and it feeds into a core desire. To be wanted. He has covered his cock in her arousal and he pumps it, peeling the foreskin back to press the head against her clit.

Your toes curl, flexing in anticipation as he slowly slides his cock through your cum slick folds. Again, you envision Marcus. Disheveled and flushed with desire, looking down at your cunt like it’s Heaven. You try to roll your hips down, but the stirrups don’t allow for much movement and there is no way you would pull back now.

The first inch is slow. Easing in and groaning over the wetness, the heat. Controlling himself for a moment before the threads of control snap and he’s lost to the sensation.

Your cry is one of pleasure, mixed with the best kind of pain when he snaps his hips forward. “Fuck.” You clench when his voice drops. That honey rough voice turning to a snarl, like he’s lost control. “Fuck, fuck, sweetheart. Gonna tear this pussy up.”

He grabs her hips, using them for purchase as he draws his hips back to fill you again. Over and over, he buries his cock into the most perfect cunt he’s had since his wife. Feeling the walls stretch and give to his harsh thrusts.

All you can do is take. Take it and vocalize how good it feels. Your moans and cries are pushed out of you as he drills into you. Spearing his cock into you at a pace that leaves you breathless.

Here is where he can lose himself. The weight of the world falls off his shoulders as his hips jackhammer forward again and again. All the worries he carries are gone as he buries his cock into that clenching, squeezing little hole. Listening to her sweet sounds as he fucks her.

Your fingers claw your tits, biting your lip to keep from screaming too loud when he finds the sweet spot and dials in on it. Hitting it again and again without fail as he rocks into you brutally. You’ll be sore. You’ll feel him for days and you wish it was Marcus. Knowing his secrets that while he might be a hero, he fucks like a sinner.

“Soo good, so sweet.” He grunts, sweat dripping down his brow. “Fucking tight little cunt, taking me.” He hisses as he rocks up into the balls of his feet, feeling that sensation in the base of his spine. He’s getting close.

Your moans have turned into one long continuous one. His breakneck pace is almost impossible to take and yet you're gasping out when you feel a thumb on your clit. Rubbing tight, harsh circles on the sensitive bean.

“Cum for me.” He pants out. “One more, give me one more, sweetheart.” He wants her to cum again. The best feeling in the world is cumming with your lover. Even if he can’t see her face, he wants to feel her orgasm.

His command opens the floodgates. Your heels digging into the stirrups while your back arches up. Walls clamping down around his cock, Marcus’s cock and you’re relieved when you just cry out wordlessly instead of shouting his name.

It’s another couple of thrusts, feeling his balls pull tight against his body before he’s pushing deep. Rocking his hips with shallow, grinding thrusts as he pumps that quivering pussy full of his load. Painting her walls with ropes of his hot seed and moaning quietly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You whimper when he stops moving, just throbbing inside you and you see that exhausted smile on Marcus’s face. The one he always gives at the end of a battle when the world is safe once more. This time, it’s just for you. A private, blissed out smile that has you smile to yourself on the other side of the partition.

Marcus eases out of the pussy, watching as his cum starts to well up and slowly drip out as his cock softens. Coated in her juices and more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Since the last time he was here. Reaching out, he runs a finger through his cum, making her shiver as he smiles tiredly. He’s so fucking grateful he found The Hole and room 417. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

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

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rosepascal · 10 months

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how i think different pedro characters would eat pussy

ft: Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, Jack Daniels, Marcus Pike, Marcus Moreno, Max Phillips

NSFW - 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI

hello this is the first time im writing anything for pedro characters that aren't joel miller or din djarin so i hope they're in character lol.

Joel Miller

Okay. this man is a little rough with it. Never rough enough to hurt you (unless u want him too) but he goes down on you as stress relief for him. He fucking loves eating pussy though. His hands would hold you down, he’d tie your hands behind your back, and he’d go to town. His beard would scratch your thighs and fuck would it feel so good. He doesn’t talk much during it. Instead letting out grunts and the occasional “fuck”. He gets a lot of pleasure out of rendering you into a screaming, fucked out mess. Sometimes he pushes your legs to your chest and pulls your ass up for a different angle. Just because its an apocalypse doesn’t mean Joel’s lost any of his pussy eating skills tyvm.

Din Djarin

He doesn't get the chance to go down on you as much as he would like. The fact that you can't see his face doesn't help either. But when he does get the chance, he makes sure your legs shake at the very thought of what he does to you. He's messy with it. Sloppy and uncaring. He doesn't have the most experience but when his tongue is shoving itself inside of you and his hands are desperately pawing at your thighs and stomach. It doesn't fucking matter how much experience he has. He is eager to please and eager to learn. He wants the sounds of your moans and the quiver of your thighs to be ingrained in his memory forever. Sometimes he doesn't even bother taking off his armor. So when his beskar rubs against your burning skin, it only adds to the sensation.

Frankie Morales

Frankie is a pussy worshiper. To him there’s nothing better than spreading your legs going down on you until you’re clawing at his hair and begging him to fuck you. He’s methodical about it too ngl. Every time he eats you out he takes note of what makes you moan louder and what drives you crazy. He makes sure to do it all in the order you love it most. Not to say that it’s not exciting. He’ll switch up his tactics. Add his fingers here and there, leave hickies on your thighs, change pressure of his licks. It’s all a beautiful, fun game to him that always leads to you coming at least twice.

Jack Daniels

Cowboy here is a tease with a capital T. He’s also a talker. He knows how to please you and pulls a feeling from you that you didn’t ever think you could feel. He’ll make lots of jokes too. He draws out his words and teases you with his tongue until you’re crying and squirming under him. Begging for something more. He talks you through it too. In a teasing manner but also because he loves hearing just how desperate you become for him and him alone. Jack will lift his head and ask you cheeky questions. Ask if you’re enjoying it. If it feels good. How bad you need it and he won’t go back to fucking you with his tongue until you answer him.

Marcus Pike

Sweet Marcus is gentle and sweet when be eats your pussy. He is 100% a man to get pleasure from eating you out. He moans loud and grinds down on the bed until you’re both coming. Marcus has come in his pants while going down on you before and probably will again. He is eager and ready to drop to his knees if you ask. I also think he likes to hold your hands as he does it. Half to hold you down but also because he wants to feel as much of you as he can. He doesn’t do much teasing, preferring to get right to the main course. He’ll give you anything you ask for tbh.

Marcus Moreno

Mr Moreno is a giver 100%. If you ask he’d drop everything and indulge in your pussy. Marcus is a busy man though and raising Missy doesn’t always leave much alone time for the two of you which is why he feels the need to make it up to you when you do have time alone. At first you thought he did it only because he felt bad but he reassured you he did it because he wants to. He wants you to know how much he loves you and cares for you by taking care of you in the best way he can think of. There are also times where he needs to forget about the stress of being a superhero. Try as he might he can’t save everyone and it takes a toll. In the morning you’ll talk to him about it but in the moment he doesn’t need to talk he needs to feel you. So he spreads your legs and loses himself.

Max Phillips

Max is not afraid to declare to the world how much he wants to devour your pussy. Look he’s an asshole at work and he does have that feat boy energy sometimes but he is not the kind of man to think its gross or weird to go down on his partner. In fact he finds it incredibly childish to hear that some people refuse to do it. Your pussy deserves to be eaten at least once a day he has so bravely volunteered to be the one to do it. His words. He is a tease though. He’s also cocky as fuck but he has the skills to back it up. He is completely unashamed and pretty vulgar about it too. Max would have you not wear underwear if he could. Just bare for him so whenever he wants to he could just bend you over and have a little taste. A snack if you will. He’d also whisper dirty things at work just to make you horny. Don’t even get me started on when you get your period. He’s a menace but a menace with a talented mouth.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #max phillips #max phillips x reader

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pedros-husband · 9 months

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you feel bad about your scars

pedro pascal characters x male reader

characters included: javier pena, joel miller, javi gutierrez, marcus moreno, ezra, din djarin, frankie morales, agent whiskey, silva, oberyn martell, dave york, dieter bravo, tim rockford, and dio morrisey.

javier pena: he doesn't understand why you don't like your scars, he has tons, and your always talking about how much you like his, so why are yours any different? he's not good with words, so instead he'll show you just how much he loves your scars, whether its gingerly kissing over each one, or a more steamy approach in the sheets.

joel miller: he himself has been self-conscious about his scars, to him they're a reminder of mistakes he's made, fuck ups. but it's a completely different story with yours. he's all over you the moment you say something about them. he was never a touchy lovey-dovey guy, even before the breakout, but when he met you, you changed it all. so, he'll wrap you up in blankets on the couch and put a random movie on that ellie stole from bill's, it's not like you two are going to watch it anyway with the way he's thinking og showing you he loves them anyway....

javi gutierrez: he loves every part of you, and when i say love i mean LOVES, adores, worships, you a GOD to him (in a cute way not a weird way)s o when you shy away from his touch when he traces over your scars, he pouts like a puppy. cue the- " mi hermoso why don't you like your scars? i think they are adorable", and with your permission, he will kiss every single one, muttering little words in between like 'my handsome man' and 'gorgeous'. hes such a sweet golden retriever boy i can't

marcus moreno: he thinks scars are just a normal part of your body (even if its from sh/surgery) so he sees them as a part of YOU, and he loves all of you, therefore he loves them just as much. if you comment on how insecure they make you feel, he'll wrap you up in his arms and cuddle you, pressing kisses to your neck and whispering 'they are part of you my love, and you are so very beautiful...my handsome husband.'

ezra: he doesn't really know how to comfort you on it, but he still assures you that he finds you very handsome and attractive both with or without scars, they don't define you and in his eys, you are perfect in everyway.

din djarin: he is a very shy boy that isn't great with words or affection but he want to show you that he finds you beautiful and even loves your scars ESPECIALLY, so he flips the autopilot on and grabs your wrist (gently), pulling you to the bunk room, he switches off the light and drags you into the bunk, wrapping himself around you and tracing over your scars with his fingers for hours on end until you fall sleep with a smile. its an unspoken sort of love but you can almost hear his thoughts as he delicately traces over the dark lines on you skin.

frankie morales: he's had his fair share of scars from being in the military, so when he hears your concerns about yours, he understands. He's hated his because they remind him of all the people he's had to kill, at the lives lost from his hands, so he will pamper you completely and re-assure you that yours scars are beautiful, and a part of you that he loves very much.

agent whiskey (jack daniels): he also practically worships your body so hes nearly enraged at the fact that you DON'T see your body and scars the same way, he whisks you up into his arms (get it :0) and nearly throws you down onto the bed, crawling on top of you and showering your whole body in kisses, his hands gliding over the lines off each scar and whispering in your ear how handsome they are, and just how much he loves them, and you.

silva: hes shy so it's hard for him to express just how much he loves them, but he wants you to love them too so he'll at least attempt to comfort you, stumbling over his words a bit but getting the point across nonetheless, and the thought makes your heart melt a little anyway.

oberyn martell: physical affection is basically the only way this man can communicate his feelings towards you, so that is what he does, during a steamy make-out session or passionate sex, where he'll focus on telling you just how much they turn him on/he loves them, and make sure you do not leave that bed/room until you feel the same way about them that he does.

Dave york: he has also been in the military, so he has his scars too, but you made him love his, meaning he's confused how you don't love yours too. he'll take both your clothes off, (in a non sexual way) and carefully trace his fingertips over your scars, mumbling about how they tell a story, then he'll sit back in his chair and let you do the same,occasionally piping in about a particular scar that he used to hate, that you made him love.

dieter bravo: he doesn't have that many scars so he doesn't fully understand why they would make you insecure or be worried about them, to him your still his handsome boyfriend and scars don't change that.

tim rockford: there is no way you couldn't love them, because tim reminds you how much he loves the every chance he gets. he thinks your scars are awesome, whether they are from self harm or a surgery, he will look at them and touch them for hours, just marvelling at them with big eyes, and will ask you details about how you got them (if your comfortable with it), and mumble about how sexy they are, and how much he loves his handsome boyfriend

dio morrisey: he thinks they're badass and goth as hell. if you say otherwise, he'll simply cut you off and just tell you to stop being so stupid. he thinks they're cute, but he won't admit that. he's a tough love kinda guy, but you see through it and can kind of read what hes really thinking and feeling about them anyway.

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So I don’t know if anyone noticed but I deleted my Frankie fic from my page because I got SO self conscious about it and I probably won’t venture near the smut region again for a while because I overthought it so much… anyway hope you like this little thing :)

#joel miller #male reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel tlou #frankie morales #oberyn martell #oberyn martel x reader #male x male #dio morrissey #agent whiskey #jack daniels #tim rockford #dave york #ezra prospect #javi gutierrez #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader

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morallyinept · 2 months

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Heyday Hero - A Valentine's Story - Mature!Marcus Moreno

This is a story set in the Heyday Hero Universe. You might wanna read that one first if you haven't already.

Summary: Marcus pulls out all the stops to make your first Valentine's Day together really super!

Word Count: 7.2k

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: Both Marcus & Reader have REAL bodies, and very real middle age spread/coming to terms with ageing & feeling obsolete.

Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/fingering - Marcus has superpower hands⚡️/lots of kissing/schmaltzy romance/Marcus doesn't fuck, he makes love/all the flowers and pancake mush you can swallow/Marcus being the perfect, romantic fool

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.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, 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: Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies! 🥰 I just had to revisit these two love birds on this heart day. Love you all so much! 😘

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

HEYDAY HERO <- Main Story

Enjoy! 🖤

The early morning Austin sun casts a warm glow over Marcus's garden as he ambles among the clusters of vibrant blooms swaying gently in the Texan breeze.

Clipping blush peonies with thoughtful precision, his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Missy and you; the two women in his life showering him with more love in abundance than he could ever wish for.

Fragrant petals whisper to him in the gentle flurry, carrying the promise of a special day he’s woken up to. A day that, for so long, had seemed so mundane - another day ending in a Y. So pointlessly lonely. Just ordinary in his solace without a partner to share the topical mushiness with, even if it was rife with capitalist sentiment sponsored by the fat cats at Hallmark.

Lost in contemplation as he prunes and snips at stems, Marcus's thoughts are a blend of affection and giddy anticipation, and he can’t wait to see his daughter smile as she inhales in the perfumed fragrance of the florals he’s chosen just for her.

Despite the lack of a romantic partner since the passing of his wife and Missy's mother, his Valentine’s Days since were about showering Missy with love and appreciation, something that she initially resisted, stomping into her unruly teens and it being branded “uncool” to spend time with her father fussing over her as she was reaching maturity.

But he still upheld that tradition nonetheless.

Now a headstrong woman in her thirties, she could appreciate that effort and often sought it out willingly as she would snuggle in closer to him when watching a movie together after a hard day of fighting the world’s enemies and threats, and he would smile as she fell asleep snoring into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and subsequently leaving a patch of drool on it.

But as much as the superhero father-daughter duo loved one another, Marcus missed the companionship of a partner he could shower with hopelessly romantic sentiment and love of a more intimate kind.

That was until he met you.

Over the course of the last six months, yours and Marcus’s relationship has bloomed and flourished, much like his garden, evolving into a softly hedonistic timeline woven with shared experiences, laughter, and genuine affection.

Despite the exciting journey you’re both on, you both carry unspoken anxieties that occasionally cast shadows on the picturesque canvas of your budding romance.

Your dates were a delightfully regular mix of adventures - whether exploring museums, cozying up at home with a homemade dinner and a classic movie, or exploring the wonderland of nature.

And Marcus still can’t get your first meeting out of his mind. The date that solidified it all for him.

He was mesmerised by you, and still is, fearing some days he’ll wake up and realise it’s all been some wondrous dream where he subconsciously created and crafted you from the moulds of his inert loneliness.

He glances over to the sun loungers by the pool, and his cock pulls tight in his jeans, remembering the two of you sat in one together, listening to your words as you read from your book to him, only a few days ago as the sun set into a fiery orange sky.

He can smell the scent of your skin again now as the tepid heat warmed it as he had you in his arms, basking in the dying rays as he buried himself inside of you from behind. His nose running tracks against the back of your neck as his fingers drew circles on your clit, bringing you to soaring heights without ever leaving the ground.

With the book discarded to the patio, his big hands were resting and stroking on the crinkles of your tummy skin as he whispered how beautiful you are, nipping on your earlobe as the sky blushed above you, an expansive voyeur to your lovemaking.

The gentle, yet enthusiastic, pace of your relationship allows you to savour each moment, creating a foundation of tentative understanding and trust. Yet, as the seasons change, the passage of time invokes subtle insecurities that bleed in uninvited.

It’s human nature, he supposes. Marcus, a retired superhero, whose body had once effortlessly defied gravity, now finds himself grappling with the harsh realities of ageing. The occasional ache and stiffness serve as reminders of the physical toll his heroic past has taken on him.

You, too, are confronted with your own insecurities when you stand in front of the mirror, naked after a shower, and notice things aren't as supple or as perky as they used to be. The mirage of eternal youth begins to dissipate, sands falling in the glass, replaced by the acknowledgement of lines that trace the stories of your laughter, and the gradual changes of a sinking gravity that comes with the eventual movement of time.

As the months towards his retirement from the Heroics had unfolded, Marcus began to notice the subtle changes in his body - the creaky echoes of years spent in the pursuit of justice. The once effortless movements that defined his superhero heydays were now accompanied by a quiet reminder of the toll taken on his physical form.

Morning stiffness became a familiar companion as Marcus greeted the dawn - a stiffness of a different, less exciting kind.

The pops in his joints were like a cacophony of irritating reminders, a natural clicking chorus that played out, despite him being an unwilling conductor, as he rose from his bed. Aches manifested in areas that once bore the brunt of intense physical exertion.

His shoulders, which had once easily carried the weight of the world, now bore the imprints of past struggles. Welted, faded scars of times when he came close to exchanging his life so others could live, adorned him. White, little lines of jagged lightning against the golden skin that you would run your fingers or tongue over, bringing about a sensual healing in the layers of his marred epidermis with your explorative and worshipping ministrations.

On some days, Marcus found himself pausing to stretch, a conscious effort to ease the tightness that settled into his muscles. The warm-up routine, once a prelude to high-flying acrobatic adventures, now became a ritual to navigate the nuances of a body shaped by years of gritty heroism.

Yet, despite the stark, physical reminders of ageing, Marcus approached each day with resilience and a quiet acceptance. The aches were not signals of defeat but rather markers of a life well-lived, a testament to the now grey hero who had faced challenges head-on and emerged with stories of grandeur etched into the fabric of his being.

Observant and empathetic, you stood by Marcus's side as he navigated these physical aches and pains on the mornings you woke up together.

Your gentle massages and understanding glances spoke volumes, creating a space where the vulnerabilities of ageing became threads that wove you both closer together.

He thinks back to the way your hands glide over his body and soon distract him from the aches to another ache weighing heavy between his legs. The more pleasant vareity of morning stiffness.

His ears are soon filled with your gasps and moans as he zones out under the morning sun, thinking back to mornings waking with you wrapped around him as he slipped inside you and worked you both out.

In that tranquil corner of the garden, surrounded by the coveted peace of nature, Marcus confronts the uncertainties, but the happiness he feels quells any of that self-doubt in an instance.

The kitchen, the epicentre of Marcus’s world now, soon becomes a hub of activity as Marcus sets about creating a special morning feast on the day of San Valentín.

The aroma of homemade pancakes fills the air, mingling with the scents of freshly brewed coffee and tarte fruity berries. The vase of peonies adorns the table, adding a touch of colour to the special breakfast spread he’s prepared all morning with love and care.

As Missy enters the kitchen, hair damp and bedraggled, the mild surprise melting away the sleep in her battered eyes, Marcus can't help but beam.

"Happy Valentine's Day, kiddo," he says, presenting her with the hand-cut bouquet.

Missy's eyes light up with unbridled joy as she accepts the vase of flowers with a kiss on the side of his fuzzy face. "Dad, these are beautiful. Thank you."

“Only the best for my muñeca. Sit, I made you some breakfast.” (Doll.)

“You’re not having breakfast with your lovely lady?”

“We’re spending the rest of the day together. I've made plans.” His eyes light up as he says it, pouring out hot coffee.

"Sneaky." Missy smirks.

“This morning is just for you and me.”

“Makes a change not to see you two half-naked and draped all over each other. You know, these walls are paper thin.”

“Shut up.” Marcus says, evidently blushing.

“I ought to file a complaint, I’m sure it violates some building code… loud noises.”

“Or you could just stay at your place?” He suggests with a grin.

“Pffft. That’ll never happen.”

In the days leading up to Missy and you meeting for the first time - which was inevitable really considering how often your paths had almost crossed with Missy using her key at any God given time of day - Marcus hadn’t been able to shake a lingering sense of angst. He found himself caught in the crossroads of two important relationships intermingling in his life, and the fear of you both not getting along tugged at the edges of his erratic thoughts.

As he’d prepared the house for your official get-together, Marcus couldn't help but second guess his decision. What if you didn't hit it off? The worry gnawed at him, the uncertainty of your connection becoming a lead weight on his broad shoulders and making him feel somewhat nauseous at the prospect of facing a choice.

He tried to distract himself with preparations, arranging a small dinner, which soon became over the top due to the stress-cooking that ensued, and ensuring the atmosphere was comfortable.

But every now and then, a wave of anxiety washed over him despite Missy reminding him that he was worrying over nothing.

If she makes you this goofy, Dad, then I already love her… Missy'd remarked as he clattered about clumsily with pans.

When the hour finally arrived, Marcus did his best to hide his apprehension despite his squally gut. As Missy and you exchanged greetings, he observed your interactions with a hopeful, yet anxious, heart.

The initial moments were filled with small talk, and Marcus found himself holding his breath, waiting for a sign that you were connecting, and shucking in deep breaths of oxygen when you subtly reminded him to breathe, observing him turn a shade of purple and giving his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

Of course, Marcus needn't have worried - Missy and you got on like a house on fire.

Laughter began to flow naturally, and conversations unfolded effortlessly. The tension in Marcus's shoulders eased as he witnessed his daughter and new partner finding common ground, especially in teasing him, it appeared.

Marcus smirks as he places a plate under Missy’s nose.

“Heart-shaped, chocolate chip pancakes? You trying to woo me, Dad?”

“Just showing the love for my amazing daughter.”

“Why, what are you after?” Smiling, she pours the raspberry syrup over the stack.

“Nothing. Just want you to know how special you are to me is all.” He mumbles quietly with pink cheeks frazzling under his thick rimmed specs.

"Your love is causing me to gain five pounds." She muses.

“What’s that?” He asks, nodding over to the skin on her shoulder now revealed as she ties back her hair.

She glances down at the rather large and angry bruise and back at her father’s concerned eyes.

“I can handle it, Dad.” She reminds him as he visibly tenses.

“I know. But I’m always going to worry. Even if you are a Moreno badass.”

She laughs and then sighs, pulling her cardigan on and covering up the bruise. “Comes with the territory, right?"

He nods, sadly. "It does."

Missy picks up her fork to dig in and then hesitates. "Did you... did you ever have those days when you thought about throwing in the towel?”

Marcus nods again. “All the time.”

As Marcus reminisces about his past, memories of battles lost and wounds endured flood his mind like unwelcome guests crashing a solemn reunion. There were moments etched in his memory with the vividness of fresh lacerations - times when victory had slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving behind scars that ran deeper than mere flesh and bone.

“How did you keep going? How did you… find the strength?” She sighs and Marcus can only helplessly observe the features of her own face, young, but carrying that weight of the world is starting to age her quicker than he would like.

He remembers the deafening roar of explosions echoing in the night as he fought valiantly against insurmountable odds, only to find himself battered and broken, his spirit and pride bruised more than his body.

There were battles where the enemy's strength seemed limitless, where every blow landed with the force of a freight train, threatening to crush his resolve beneath its weight.

In the aftermath of defeat, Marcus found himself questioning everything he had once believed in. The wounds he bore were not just physical; they were a reflection of the doubts and insecurities that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

He considered putting away his katanas many, many times, walking away from the life of a hero and leaving behind the chaos and destruction that seemed to follow in his wake.

But even in the darkest moments of despair, a flicker of hope remained - a stubborn ember that refused to be extinguished. It was the memory of those he had sworn to protect, the faces of innocence that haunted his dreams and whispered words of encouragement in the depths of his despair mid-fight.

Marcus leans over the counter on his arms and pinches a raspberry from Missy’s plate.

“For you. I wanted to make the world a better place for you to grow up in. Safe.”

Missy smiles like a dim bulb about to burn out as she eats. “You did a pretty good job of that, Dad. I've had some big shoes to fill.”

He smiles, running his tongue around the raspberry pips now lodged in his teeth.

“You’re doing great, kiddo.”

He reaches for another raspberry and she bats his hand away as he chuckles.

“You know, you’re the only man who's ever gotten me flowers…” She says a few minutes later, eyeing the fluffy heads with a slight dip on her face, and Marcus can’t help but furrow his brow in unison.

Missy looks up at her father with twinkly eyes that mirror the melting chips in the pancakes. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Te quiero mucho, mucho.” (I love you very, very much.) He nods as they eat together.

“I should get going-” Missy states after she finishes her plate, which only seems to be after a few hefty shovels.

“No, stay.”

“As much as I love being a third wheel, it’s Valentine’s Day.” She reminds him.

“Hey.” Marcus takes her elbow gently. “You know this is your home, you're always welcome here, no matter what. I always want you here.”

“I know. But you guys should do the whole love thing today. Alone.”

“What about you?” He asks, concerned at the thought of Missy sitting alone in her apartment on the most love-filled day of the year.

“I’ll be fine.” She assures with a tight smile. “Might see if Miss Starlight or Renegade wanna hang. We can all be lonely and miserable together.” She snorts.

A thoughtful pause follows before Marcus tentatively broaches the idea. "Have you ever thought about giving online dating a try? You know, like the dating app profile you made for me? I hear it’s all the rage these days."

Missy raises an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on her face, "Dad, are you suggesting I join the world of swipes and emojis? Because that ship has long sailed. I’m knee deep in dilfs on the regular." She grins.

Marcus chuckles nervously, "I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Probably best.”

“Well, I mean, it's one way to meet people. You might find someone who appreciates your eloquent wit and charm."

“Don’t forget the potty mouth.”

“That too,” he smiles. “I know what it’s like. Being the world’s hero leaves you somewhat… lonely. I don't want that for you.”

Missy nods contemplating. “I’ve been giving it some thought.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you two seem really happy together. I guess I miss having that sometimes.”

Marcus, feigning surprise, replies, "Really? Well, I guess you can thank your old man for staying on top of the trends and leading by example."

Missy rolls her eyes playfully, "Oh, I will, Dad. You're my dating app guru now."

“Hardly.” He scoffs.

“This is true, you lucked out on round one. You didn’t get to kiss any gnarly toads or do the walk of shame.”

“The walk of shame?”

“I'll tell you about it when you’re older some day,” Missy quips with a grin.

There’s always a subtle restlessness, a physical awareness that manifests in the anticipation of your next meeting.

The memory of your kiss lingers on his lips, he can still taste you long after you're gone, and the mere thought of your touch again sparks a warmth that courses through his veins, burning him up from the inside.

His body has changed so much, and yet you make Marcus feel like he’s young and nubile again when the butterflies begin to flap around, and that tingle surges deliciously down the length of his cock.

With a sense of heady excitement and a touch of mystery, Marcus decided to plan a special surprise for you for Valentine’s Day.

One that he hopes you won’t forget in a hurry.

He arrives at your place, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and the breath torn from his lungs as he beholds you opening the door with that gorgeous smile just for him.

Every time he has the chance to see you again, whether for a planned date or an unexpected visit, Marcus feels a powerful surge run through him, making his fingers crackle with a pulsing intensity that makes them buzz almost uncontrollably. He doesn't bother shaking the feeling away anymore, instead he revels in it.

The moments leading up to your regular reunions are filled with a blend of eagerness and a touch of nervous anticipation, as if each meeting holds the promise of uncovering something new and extraordinary.

In those stolen glances and shared moments, Marcus discovers that missing someone can be a beautiful ache, a testament to the depth of his feelings for you, absent hearts and all that spiel.

An ache that is soon satiated when you open the door and smile at him like he’s the only man in the world.

His lips find yours almost instantly as you grasp onto his broad shoulders in the doorway, the pair of you almost toppling through in your desperate haste. The soft groans that escape him makes your blood throb inside your veins.

His tongue slips into the comforting home of your mouth, and you feel it over every nerve ending in your body, tingly and visceral. And not just from his crackly fingertips.

“Hey you,” you eventually manage to sigh into his plush mouth, feeling the silk of his greying beard smoothing against your cheeks.

“Hey, mi Dulzura…” (Hey, my Sweetness) he murmurs dreamily as he plants delicate kisses along your jawline and inhales the scent of your perfume. It’s the vanilla and jasmine one he likes so much when he can smell it lingering on his pillows.

He’s all hands and enthusiastic smooches the moment he sees you. Unable to abnegate himself away from the basic needs of touch and affection that you give back to him in equal abundance.

You can't get enough of one another.

You feel his large hands squeeze your hips gently, and your body flares as he pulls you in closer to him, crushed right up against his stacked, warm chest as he kisses you more with a heated groan.

Reluctantly pulling away he suggests, "How about we go on a little adventure today? I've got something special planned."

“You spoil me, Mr Moreno.” You cluck, running your hands over the soft leather jacket adorning his arms.

“Always,” he confirms with a grin. “You look great, so beautiful,” he says, eyeing your tight jeans and pretty floral shirt combo.

“As do you, you scrub up well.” You marvel at the jeans, leather jacket and green t-shirt he’s casually adorned in, pulling tight in all the right places. You stroke over the soft swell of his tummy as you lean in for another kiss.

He pulls something silken out of his pocket and you glance at it with raised eyebrows. “May I?”

“Kinky shenanigans planned on my doorstep?” You query as you allow him to blindfold you. “The neighbours will love that…” You giggle.

“Even better,” he whispers into your ear salaciously.

“You hound.” You swipe out playfully to him, but miss when you can’t see anything at all now.

“Woof.” He growls, pausing to nip on your lobe and revelling in your desperate whine in response.

After a short drive through town, Marcus finally pulls up. "Trust me, you're going to love this," he assures as he guides you out of the car.

He carefully leads you along a path, each step heightening the sense of anticipation. As you walk blindly, his arm around your waist, and your hand holding tightly onto his other, you can feel his own sense of excitement as it buzzes into your skin with those pleasant tingles and crackles.

“Just a little further.” He assures as he pushes open a door and you step through to inhale a moistness in the air; a balmy heat that’s different from the outside that settles into your pores.

“Where are we?” You question with a jaunty, excitable tinkle. For a moment, the smell reminds you of a swimming pool.

“Just wait…” You can hear him grinning.

When you reach your destination, Marcus removes the blindfold, unveiling the breathtaking scene of the Austin botanical garden before you.

The vibrant colours, the fragrant blossoms, and the serene atmosphere creates a picturesque display that leaves you in absolute awe.

You’re surrounded by flowers in abundance, the scent of them driving you wild as they all scramble to make you smell their perfumes first. You’re even more stunned to find it all completely empty.

"Welcome to the botanical garden.” Marcus says, tucking the blindfold into his leather jacket pocket. “It’s one of my favourite places.”

“Wow!” You smile, turning a full three-sixty as you take it all in. “You know, I’ve always been meaning to come here. I don’t know why I haven’t before…”

“I thought we could spend the day here," Marcus announces with a grin. “Look,” he points over to a small set up of a picnic on a grassy area under an intricate arch of purple orchids in the shape of a heart.

“Looks like a giant purple heart emoji.” You smile at him.

He nods, eyebrows wiggling above his specs.

“You really know how to romance a girl,” you smile, stroking under his chin.

“I booked this place out just for us.” His hands slide down your lower back pulling you into him. “We’re completely alone…”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We have the whole day here, if we want.”

“I want. Very much.” You nod and pull him forward by his lapels for a deep kiss.

“I don’t know what to say,” you smile, cupping his cheeks and gliding your nose over his. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi Dulzura. Feliz Día del Corazón.” (My Sweetness. Happy Heart Day.)

He kisses you, gently nipping onto your lips as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers as you stroll together along lush pathways, surrounded by an array of captivating plant life.

The Orchid Pavilion, the base for your picnic, is adorned with hanging baskets of intricate orchids, showcasing a kaleidoscope of colours - from delicate pastels to vibrant hues.

After eating together, an array of home baked, sweet treats Marcus had prepared himself, you wander through a section adorned with curtains of exotic orchids, and Marcus can't contain his enthusiasm as he takes on the role of your personal tour guide.

A role he takes very seriously, much to your amusement.

"Did you know orchids have a fascinating way of attracting pollinators? Some mimic the appearance and scent of certain insects to lure them in. It's nature's way of flirting, I suppose." He rambles excitedly.

You chuckle, finding Marcus's nerdy fascination endearing. "Flirting through flowers, who would've thought? Tell me more, Mr. Botanist."

You continue your fascinating journey, hand in hand, and Marcus points out a cluster of carnivorous plants.

"These are pitcher plants. They have specialised leaves that form a pitcher-like structure to trap insects. It's like having a tiny garden predator."

“Have you got these in your garden?” You query, peering into their tube-like structures, like tiny trumpets in the grasses. He has so many of his own plants it's hard to remember them all.

“No. I do have a Venus Fly Trap though. She’s very bitey.” He nips on your neck making you yelp as he walks you forward.

“Ah. Audrey II, of course.” You smirk.

“Of course.” He muses.

As you reach a serene pond surrounded by water lilies, Marcus shares another tidbit.

"Water lilies close their flowers at night and reopen in the morning, and they…. what?” He stops to look at you quizzically, noting the expression spreading over your face. “W-why are you looking at me like that?”

You shake your head smiling, all teeth bared at him. “You're so sexy when you geek out.”

He blushes beet red and smirks. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until we get to the cacti garden. I will be insufferable.”

"Hot." You chuckle.

You meander through a section dedicated to succulents and cacti, where the desert's resilience takes centre stage. The ground is adorned with various prickly shapes and sizes, from the elegant arms of Saguaro cacti to the whimsical arrangements of succulents that seem to defy gravity as their spiky tendrils reach towards the sky.

The sun bathes this arid landscape in a warm glow through the high glass ceilings, casting shadows that play on the pebbly, sandy ground like a dance of desert spirits conjured by mystical forces.

“You were right, it’s pretty awesome.” You say.

“Not as awesome as you,” he whispers, kissing you again.

A serpentine path leads you to the Aquatic Garden, where more water lilies float gracefully on the surface of a tranquil pond. Golden Koi Carp glide beneath the water, adding a splash of movement as you both sit by it chatting.

The reflections of the surrounding greenery dance on the water, creating a mirror-like effect that seems to amplify the selection of plant species all around you. You dip your fingers into the pool, the fish swimming curiously around at a safe distance, and Marcus watches with a smile that makes his cheeks ache.

“You like butterflies?” He asks you.

You nod, smiling as he takes your hand and leads you to the Butterfly Conservatory, a whimsical space alive with fluttering colours of Black Swallowtails, Red Admirals and Cloudless Sulphurs.

Thousands of butterflies dance around, their delicate wings creating a haze of hues that add an extra layer of enchantment to the garden that stuns you into silent giggles at such a place.

“I wish I could fly sometimes.” You smile as the butterflies flit around, some landing on your sleeves as you admire their delicacy with a splendid awe.

You bring your arm closer to your face, your nose wrinkling in delight as the tiny butterfly shows off its wings just for you.

“Funny you should mention that.” Marcus teases.

You eye him carefully. “What do you mean?”

“I have something else planned for you today. If you’re up for it?”

“I’m always up for it.” You smirk.

“Come on.” He takes you by the hand once more and leads you towards a garden that’s outside and full of roses in every shade of pink and red that exists on the colour scale.

“This is stunning,” you say, slowing down as you take them all in.

Akin to being lost in the Queen of Heart’s gardens, it takes you a few minutes of wandering back through the maze of rose bushes, interwoven with clusters of pale lavender hydrangeas, to find Marcus handling some belts and clips near a device you’ve never seen before.

“Is that what I think it is?” You question with wide eyes as you notice the large contraption hovering just a few inches above the grass, whirring silently.

It has two large circular fans and belts that lead from it to Marcus’s waist as he clips himself securely into it.

“You wanna fly?” He queries and you nod enthusiastically, feeling a surge zap through you and your toes tingle in your shoes.

You feel him navigate a similar belt around your waist, willingly holding your arms out. He runs his nose against your neck as he does it, and you hear him groan in satisfaction as he inhales.

“Mouth watering...” He murmurs as he kisses your skin and your feel it pulse in your core as you clench around nothing.

You watch as he clips your belt into his and tugs against it.

“Are you ready?” Marcus asks you as you step closer to him.

“No.” You giggle.

“Do you trust me?” He questions with a serious face, thumb stroking down your cheek.

You nod looking into his deep, cocoa eyes. “With my life.”

Marcus smiles at that, wrapping his hands around your waist. “I’ve got you. You’re safe, okay?"

"Okay." You nod, smiling.

"You’re not afraid of heights, are you?

“Bit late to ask me that now,” you chuckle, and so does he. "Are you going to run me through the pre-flight safety checks?"

Marcus smirks. "Hold onto me. That's it."

"Well, shit." You cling onto him as the whirring starts to get faster, the blades of grass blown out into flat circles, and you can feel the belt cinch tighter around your waist as it lifts you both off the ground.

“Oh my God!” You clutch onto him tighter and he chuckles softly. “This is really happening!”

“Let’s go see the city.” Marcus smiles, placing a kiss on your head.

Once a soft breeze, the wind grows more ferocious around you, your body becoming free from the reassuring surface of the world.

The wonder in your eyes grows to questionable proportions, and you’re soon completely bewildered at the fact that you're really flying.

He tips forward in a smooth motion so you’re both lying horizontal in the air when the device reaches the desired altitude.

“You ready?”

You nod eagerly as he propels forward with a simple push of his upper body, steering, as you both zoom off towards the Austin city skyline, your giggly gasps ringing in his ears.

Your eyes meet his in wonder as you grip onto him tightly. “Marcus! We’re flying!”

You feel like you’re shouting over the wind whipping against you, eyes wide and gleaming at the sight of the city approaching in a block chart of colour and twinkles of lights.

It feels colder, but being crushed against his body keeps you warm enough. You’re too exhilarated to feel any change in body temperature.

You brave yourself to look at the sky above sinking into an inky twilight of orange and cerise hues as the sun sets.

“Welcome to my world,” Marcus says, nuzzling into you.

You feel his grip lessen and glance at him with alarm, but the look in his eyes convinces you he’s not going to let you fall.

He simply reaches for your hand with one of his, and you drop subtly beneath him, the belt keeping you close as he takes your other hand and you’re spread out beneath, back against his chest, arms wide as they can go as he holds them out parallel with his.

“Oh shit!” You gasp as he flies you both faster, curving and twisting around the breadth of the skyscrapers; your giddy reflection in the mirrors of the glass windows ara a blur as you pass.

You don’t notice when he lets go of your hands, his arms around your waist instead as your own arms stay out in front of you as you rip through the air.

“Better than the butterflies?” You hear him call.

“So much better than the butterflies!” You laugh, almost hysterically, as he loops back towards the botanical garden, after a few more laps around the city.

As soon as you’re back on the ground in the rose garden, a wave of adrenaline surges through you, and you lunge at him with shaky limbs, almost knocking him off balance.

A melody of gasps and breathy pants puff out of your mouths as you kiss frantically through tinctured groans. The whimper in the back of his throat conveying more than words ever need to about his desire for you in this moment.

Marcus unclips the belts, yanking them off of the both of you with a fumbling fervour, glued at the mouth with you. Clumsy kisses, teeth clashing against one anothers in your mutual haste, as you push his leather jacket down over his shoulders and his fingers eagerly untuck your shirt from your jeans.

“That was incredible,” you gasp into his mouth, unzipping his jeans.

“You’re incredible,” he groans as you take his swollen cock in your hand, squeezing and stroking gently as you lavish kisses over his bronzed neck.

“Oh God,” Marcus moans.

Subtle flicks of your tongue leave him gasping, his hands running through your windswept hair as you make tracks over his chest littered with sparse, greying hairs as you both tumble to the grass and push his t-shirt up further.

Tasting all the way down his sternum and lingering over the soft paunch of his tummy, a place you always nuzzle against, he glances down at you with a bashful smile.

Then a gentle nibble on his hips before your tongue wanders into the small, neatly trimmed thatch of hairs around the back of this thick, weeping cock.

“Oh, please…” he whines biting down on his lip.

You lick up from the base of him, your eyes transfixed on his as he gasps, watching you run up the full length of him to kiss the top of his leaking head gently. You stroke his thighs and he parts them further making room for you as you settle into making out with his cock.

You’ve mastered the art of taking your time with him, enjoying the sounds that flutter out of his mouth as you take him deeper and deeper. Those unbridled whimpers as you suck fill your ears, and you swear you’ve never heard a more perfect sound escape him.

It's when you take him all the way down is when he loses his calm, polite composure.

“Fuck!” Marcus gasps, his head lolling back. “Mm, just like that…”

You smirk to yourself as you feel fingers knotting in your hair and subtly tugging on it.

“Yeah… so fucking good. Oh my God… Yes.” He pants.

You let him have free reign over your body too, as he buries two fingers inside you and licks you to orgasm. His favourite place is between your legs, his second is a garden. When the two collide, it's even better.

“Marcus, please…” you pant, words tumbling from your mouth as your legs shake.

“Tell me, tell me what you want, mi Dulzura.”

“I want you inside me.”

“Right here?” You feel his buzzing fingers plunger deeper, stroking on that spot that makes your thighs shake harder as you feel the tingles ramp up. “You want me filling you up, hmm?”

“Yeah.” You pant as he circles your clit. The heavy throb undeniable on it from the crackling in the tip of his thumb.

“That feel good?” He smirks.

You fist the grass, tearing blades from it that stick to your palms as you grasp his face, fingernails digging into his skull behind his ears as your exhale and puff into his face.

“Oh my God, yes, Marcus!”

His glasses dig into your cheeks as you strain and wail, your breath fogging them up a little.

“Come for me. Come all over my fingers, come on.” He chants watching you, foreheads crushed together as he zaps and strokes harder inside you.

“Come, mi Dulzura. ¡Dios mío, eres tan malditamente hermosa!” (My God, you're so damn beautiful!)

The Spanish whispers send you over the edge. “M-Marcus!” You cry out, squeezing around his fingers as your whole body shakes; tingles flooding all over and making you feel like you’re still flying, all the way up there in the pale lilac sky above you as your eyes roll back into it.

You feel him kissing over your neck, humming softly muffled words of praise and desire into your skin as your slick coats his fingers just like he wanted.

"So fucking perfect for me," Marcus croons.

“I need you.” You whisper.

“God, I need you, too.”

His large, perfectly sculpted nose crushes into the side of your jaw as he fills you; your gasps and whines echoing around the rose garden as he slides into your utterly drenched pussy.

He loves how the stretch of you around his cock brings you to orgasm almost right away; a few gentle thrusts as you adjust to his thickness, and you’re shuddering for him, coating him in your slick before he plunders deeper with that gentle, rhythmic pounding.

He loves how you're completely insatiable for one another, despite the ravishes of age rendering your bones heavier, your paces slower.

Despite it all, you still embark on a journey of a healthy sexual appetite, even if you both have to navigate it with a little more preparedness sometimes; it still rocks your world.

He still has it, and so do you.

“You feel so good,” You whisper to him as he nuzzles into your face. The wind of his hips into yours, hits you at the perfect angle, again and again.

“We feel so good together,” he breathes with a smile. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. I don't think I’ll ever stop getting enough of you.”

You kiss him again as he thrusts a little harder, a little faster.

The vulnerabilities of being so exposed, so spread before him like this, revealing all the parts about yourself you’ve scrutinised scathingly in the mirror with abhorrence, fade away.

It’s all those wrinkled, stretched, sagged parts of you that he worships with his crackly fingers and tongue. He spends time appreciating them, fawning over them and lavishing them with the attention they so thoroughly deserve as he rolls with you so you’re on top now.

How you watch as your less-than-perky breasts tumble into his face as he pulls them out of your bra, but he licks and suckles at them as his cock notches against your hole and he groans out as you sit on him fully. Running his tongue around those stiff pebbles unabashed, sucking them into his mouth as you grind on him.

“Come for me…” Marcus pants as he watches that dreamy glaze settle into your eyes as you ride him; that glittery feeling about ready to burst out of your pores as he pushes up with his hips to meet you. “Need to feel you soak me.”

“Oh shit, I’m coming!” You shake on top of him, gasping. Head thrown back as you rock and grinning as you see stars explode across the sky above you.

Yeah. Marcus Moreno has still got it.

“That’s it, like that. Fuck, I’m gonna come too! Fuck! Fuuuck!”

Marcus stiffens, his whole body tenses as his hips jerk, and he fills you up. Floods you until he's dripping warm and pearly out of you, all over his soft belly, as you lean upwards to kiss him some more.

Afterwards, as you both lay in the grass half dressed and satiated from the highs of flying and your lovemaking, Marcus reaches up above you both, plucking a single, red rose from the bush and hands it to you.

You sniff the fragrant petals and smile at him with glittery eyes that wander over his face looking back at you. You run the rose head gently over his cheek and he smiles, and you think you've never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

The way he’s looking at you right now literally renders you mute and unable to breathe.

But he's a tempest under that sweet smile.

He’s felt it for a while now, that tether between you becoming tighter, knotting into something unbreakable and deepening, but he finds himself grappling with a gnawing worry - one that whispers doubts in the quiet moments of contemplation.

He fears the weight of those three simple words that are on the cusp of his tongue: I love you.

It wasn't that he doubted the sincerity of his emotions; rather, it was the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of how those words might alter the delicate balance of your relationship.

Is it too soon? Is it too much? Is it foolish at his age to even begin to allow himself the same giddy excitement he felt when he was much younger? Would uttering those words irrevocably change the dynamic between you, shifting the fragile equilibrium you had both carefully cultivated?

There's also the fear of rejection, of laying his heart bare only to have it met with silence or crippling hesitation. What if you might not feel the same way yet, or even at all? That his declaration of love might drive a wedge between you rather than bring you closer together causes a reaction within him that makes him physically tense.

“I can feel your heartbeat speeding up,” you say, regarding him quizzically with your hand already resting on his chest. Little fluttery pulses thrum under your fingertips.

Looking at you gazing up at him, a mixture of awe and concern, Marcus knows he has all he’s ever wanted and needed right here in his arms, and he can't deny the truth that simmers beneath the surface of his hesitations.

He loves you with a fierceness that defies logic - defies gravity, even. A love that transcends the boundaries of time and space. And as he grapples with his fears, he knows deep down that the only way forward is to take a leap of faith, to trust in the strength of your forged connection that grows stronger between you every day.

He decides he has to be bold. To be brave.

To be heroic.

“I love you. I-I’m in love with you.” Marcus says softly, wrinkled almond eyes swimming with a mix of euphoria and worry. “Be my Valentine?”

You reach for him, stroking your fingers in the soft silk of his greying jawline.

“También te quiero, Marcus.” You say, before he grazes his lips across yours. (I love you too, Marcus.)

“You learned some Spanish.” He whispers in awe, pulling his smile wide and eyes glistening behind the lenses of his specs.

“I figured I should. After all, I wanna understand all the special things you whisper in my ear.”

“Sólo las cosas más especiales, y sucias, para ti, mi amor…” (Only the most special, and dirty, things for you, my love.)

“Yeah, I’m not fluent.” You chuckle as he kisses you, pulling you over fully onto his body where he crushes you against him.

“Yet,” he smiles, as he sucks your bottom lip into this mouth for a deep kiss.

“So, are we flying home, or…?” You ask.

“You’re an adrenaline junkie now, hmm?”

“What can I say, you’ve taken me to new heights, Mr Moreno. I might become addicted.”

“I already am.” Marcus says, nuzzling into you.

“We should go soon, someone might find us?”

He shakes his head. “I told you, we have the whole place to ourselves, for a little while longer anyway. What do you want to do?”

You smile at him, devilishly.

“Make me fly again…” You whisper, as you feel his re-hardened cock dipping into your sticky folds.

You push back as he slips fully inside you, hips bucking up to fill you full of him once more, and Marcus does exactly what you ask of him; he lets you fly.

Thank you so much for enjoying this story! I'd love to know your thoughts and would really appreciate a re-blog too so others can enjoy some Mature!Marcus Moreno. Isn't he just dreamy? Happy Valentine's Day! 🖤😘

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