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#2k celebration
poisonedprose · 6 months
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2k follower event ! - 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐖 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓
carrd - nav - masterlists - reqs
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i cannot believe we are at 2k??? 😭😭 this is so crazy to me, thank you all so much<33 i love you guys and i love creating for all of you and im so glad you all enjoy my work and have decided to follow me and support me 🫶🫶 enjoy the (emoish) y2k (ish) theme for 2k followers <3
NOTE you will need a twitter account to view most, if not all, of these links!
fandoms this event includes ; the last of us, resident evil, call of duty (im not comfortable doing any of the other fandoms i would normally do.)
CD PLAYER - NOW PLAYING: P LINKS FOR 2K
BABY TEE - the last of us
⋆ DINA putting the strap she found on patrol to good use ⋆ ELLIE helping her inexperienced!best friend ⋆ ABBY teasing you after you backtalked her ⋆ JESSE letting you ride him before he goes out for patrol ⋆ grinding on JOEL's boner to wake him up in the morning ⋆ getting your pussy ate by DINA ⋆ ELLIE gently fucking her cutesy girlfriend with a dildo
STAR CLIPS - resident evil
⋆ CARLOS fucking his brat!gf softly as a punishment after begging for rough sex ⋆ re4!LEON using his roommates cunt in the middle of the night ⋆ re2!LEON eating out his best friend and then softly fucking them ⋆ ADA watching you squirm for her own pleasure ⋆ softdom!JILL letting you fuck her with her strap ⋆ pleasuring yourself and re2!CLAIRE at the same time ⋆ trans!LUIS handcuffing you and fucking you with his strap
MINI SKIRT - call of duty: mw
⋆ KONIG using his virgin!gf's thighs to get off ⋆ PRICE giving his neighbor a nice lil gift for christmas ⋆ after a hard mission SOAP needs to relax by eating a nice warm pussy ⋆ teasing GHOST under the table during a meeting ⋆ mean!SOAP who keeps edging you even though your right on the brink of the best orgasm of your life :(( ⋆ GAZ letting you use him however you please ⋆ PRICE makes love to you before he goes on a 3 month long mission
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violaobanion · 11 months
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MARIE ANTOINETTE and her ladies-in-waiting at The Queen’s Hamlet
requested by @zablife
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targaryen-dynasty · 2 months
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congrats on the 2k!! ❤️❤️ can i request meleys #26 for daemon pls? 🫶🫶🫶
DON‘T THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME.
Part 2
CEO!Daemon Targaryen x female Reader
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“i wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it”
WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTACT—MINORS DNI; p in v, (semi) public sex, modern AU
WORDS: 1 K
NOTES: I really said "a very short drabble" lmfao and here I am giving you 1K words. The end is abrupt, but this would have been 5K words long if I hadn't stopped. I won't beta these drabbles!
Let's celebrate my milestone!
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Daemon might have undone the zipper at the back of your short, black dress, but he hasn’t lowered it more than having the top of it pool around your waist. He hasn’t bothered opening your bra, and has merely tugged the flimsy fabric down to allow your breasts to spill over the black lace. 
“Want to fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it, bunny,” he rasps into your ear, pressing his chest flush against your back to pin you to the floor-to-ceiling window of his office that overlooks the busy financial district of King’s Landing. 
Though the gold glass hitting your exposed breasts has you gasping at first, you can't deny the thrill of excitement darting up your spine. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you hum, biting your bottom lip as you feel his large hands push the skirt of your dress up. 
“Is that so?” he drawls, the amused tint in his voice prompting you to huff. 
The sound of him loosening the zipper in the front of his slacks is drowned out by how loud your heart beats in your ears, and you’re merely reminded that he’s done so as you feel his calloused fingers tug your panties to the side to align his hard cock with your pussy. 
“Have you–” The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue with his thick cock breaching your tightness, the words replaced by a wanton moan. 
You feel his forehead resting against the side of your head, but with your cheek pressing against the window, you’re immobilized and can’t even catch a glimpse of him from over your shoulder, only feeling his hot breath caress your skin.
It’s good he doesn’t pound into you straight away, his heavy breathing and trembling hips indicating he needs a short moment to adjust just as much as you, because it gives you the chance to voice what hasn’t left your lips before. 
You take in a deliberate breath, pressing your lips into a thin line before they part again. “Have you locked the door?”
Though he’s buzzing with arousal, enjoying the feeling of you clenching around him, his mind is still very much clear and not as hazy as yours, allowing him to scoff and mock your attempt to maintain decorum. “Didn’t I say I want everyone to know?” he hums, bringing both paws to your hips to keep you steady and still. “That also applies to my employees.”
There’s no chance for you to reply, because the moment he snaps his hips up into yours, every coherent thought flies straight out the window with his cock brushing your sweet spot.
Your palms are pressed flush against the glass, and you completely rely on him to keep you upright and supported. “God, fuck,” you pant, screwing your eyes shut. 
He squeezes your hips tight enough to surely leave some bruises in the following hours, and it’s clear as day that he’s merely using you as a means to an end, to satisfy the desperate need of having something he alone could control. 
It’s the fact that even after his older brother has conceded the executive chair to him, Viserys still gets involved to the point his younger brother truly doubts his leadership qualities. 
And if this is one way for him to cope with it, you certainly won’t complain. 
“Such a good, little slut for me,” he grunts, each thrust pushing you up against the window. “Taking me so fucking well. Getting all worked up just thinking about someone seeing us, mh, seeing how good I’m fucking you.”
Releasing a shaky whimper, you arch your back and start to grind your hips back and forth, meeting him halfways. 
Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, and you meekly shake your head despite the truth in his words. It does turn you on. “N-No,” you pant, closing your eyes as you feel the flush blossoming on your cheeks. 
Daemon scoffs yet again, and serves a harsh slap to your ass that catches you by surprise. “You’re dripping, bunny,” he mocks, the lilt of confidence and authority in his voice sending a new wave of arousal to ooze out of your cunt and trickle down his cock and heavy balls. Since he has lowered them barely enough to free himself, most of your essence is caught by the dark fabric. “I’m afraid my assistant will have to get me a new pair of pants once I’m done with you.”
He proceeds to snake his hand between your body and the glass, rubbing your clit with his nimble index and middle fingers. 
“You’re gonna cum for me, sweet thing?” He presses his chest against your back again, and dips his head forward to capture your earlobe between his teeth. It’s a grazing touch, but still has goosebumps prickling on your skin. “Daddy wants to fuck you on his desk next.”
The coil inside of you tightens quickly with all sensations hitting you at once, and you’re once again surprised by how well Daemon knows your body, strumming it like a fiddle and always getting what he wants. 
You convulse all over him with a mewl, the grinding of your hips stopping as the white, hot pleasure becomes too much. But his thrusts don’t stutter or slow down, keeping the intensity to the point you’re losing your mind. 
“That’s it,” he coos through gritted teeth. “Show everyone the pretty face you always make when you’re soaking my cock.” You’re not sure whether it’s his fingers still toying with your clit, his cock still snapping in and out of you, or if his praise alone is enough to prolong your orgasm, but you feel yourself keening at his words. 
With a few more thrusts, bringing you to the point of overstimulation, he reaches his own release, twitching cock spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls. And while you thought he’s done, considering he’s panting behind you like a mad man, you’re surprised when he pulls out and turns you on your heels. 
“Clothes off, and on the desk,” he rasps, taking a step back to allow you to move while he loosens his tie. When you don’t comply quick enough, he raises his brow. “Or do you want me to do it for you, bunny? But then you’ll have to go home naked.”
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Daemon Taglist: @barbiedragon @schniiipsel
Small Taglist: @heimtathurs @valeskafics @black-dread @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @hypocritic-trash-baby @connorsui @moonlightfoxx @snowystark @fan-goddess @lovelykhaleesiii
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dailysteveharrington · 4 months
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DAILYSTEVEHARRINGTON 2K CELEBRATION✵ top steve episodes as voted by our followers
↳ #1 → The Upside Down (S01E08) (38 votes)
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maehemthemisfit · 6 months
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★ 𝐄𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝟐𝐊 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 ! ★
plant a dream and watch the story bloom . . . welcome to eucalyptus dreams ! in honor of hitting 2k, this is an event where you get to interact/roleplay with a few characters from the fandoms i write for !
📘: STATUS : OPEN 🫐: TYPE : INTERACTIVE 💙: ENDING : TO BE ANNOUNCED
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★﹕WHY DON'T YOU . ˚ ⊹ // RULES
please make sure that you mention somewhere in your ask the character you're talking to and if it's a specific version make the timeline known (ex: teen!gojo).
you can send in asks as other canon characters, ocs, or ask something that isn't plot orientated/based on you playing a character.
if a character is responding to a plot orientated ask involving a non canon character/oc, only gender neutral terms will be used (unless stated otherwise) for the most part and everything will be writen in second person, so mainly-if not all-terms will be "you" and "your".
i don't mind you detaling some of the actions of the characters i'm writing for and vaguely mentioning things the character has said, but typing out the character's actual dialogue is my job !
i will not mention your oc's physical appearance unless you bring attention to them (eye color, hair length, afrocentric features, etc).
no incest, stepcest, teacher/student or minor/adult romantic relationships, pregnacies (parenthood i can get by), explicit material, or anything progressively leading up to an explicit act. some suggestiveness however is fine.
if i answer your ask and you're uncomfortable with it please let me know!
if you don't want to see the event, you can block #eucalyptus dreams event.
if you have any questions comments or concerns about the rules feel free to shoot me an ask !
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★﹕LOVE ME ? . ˚ ⊹ // CHARACTERS
Genshin: Lyney, Freminet, Heizou, Tighnari, Xiao, Wanderer/Scara, Kazuha
Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru, Itadori Yuji, Sukuna
Danganronpa: Nagito Komeada, Kokichi Oma (closed for the moment)
if the event goes well then in 3 days the danganronpa characters will be open. this is partially to control the influx of asks i get (hopefully) but you can still send in asks for closed fandoms and have your ask queued for when they do open!
please keep in mind that these are a lot of characters and i may get a lot of asks for multiple ones, so bare with me when it comes to responding to all of them. other factors that may slow the process is my lack of experience / comfortability writing for certain characters, but I will try my best to make each interaction as in character as possible!
I will not respond to asks that breaks the rules or anything that makes me uncomfortable.
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mvybanks · 11 months
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hi love <3 could you do 🍟: jj drunk at a party and he’s all over you completely like he won’t let go of you and he won’t stop kissing you and the pogues are teasing him even more than normal
2k celebration
╰┈➤ 🍟—> ugh, getting hungry; wanna stop for a snack? : give me a character (jj, pope, sarah or rafe!) and a thought and i’ll write a concept/blurb!
“C’moooon, I want a kiss!” JJ whines as his arms are wrapped around your waist from behind, his head buried in your neck while you giggle at his antics.
You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve kissed his lips tonight, your boyfriend truly is a needy mess when he’s drunk and he seems to forget that you’ve already granted him his wish. You throw your head back on his shoulder, laughing at the way he keeps whining like a little kid who’s asking for candy.
“I’ve already kissed you, baby.”
He nuzzles his head further in your neck, “want ‘nother one.”
You turn around in his hold and peck his lips, leaving him unsatisfied, “a real one!” He demands as he searches for your lips again.
“You smell like a liquor store, J,” you chuckle.
He huffs and holds you close to him again. The laughter and mocking of your friends don’t go unnoticed by you, making you smile softly at your favorite boy.
“I want a kiss, too, Y/n!” Kie yells from the log she and the rest are sitting on as they all make kissing noises at the two of you.
“You’re so pretty, Y/n, be my wife, pleeeeaase,” Sarah continues, dramatically batting her eyelashes at you.
You laugh with them and pet JJ’s hair while he makes appreciative sounds in the crook of your neck.
“Of course I’ll be your wife, Sarah!”
At your words, JJ’s head snaps up to look at you with a frown on his beautiful face, “you’re my wife!” He retorts, feeling betrayed.
“I’m not your wife,” you chuckle.
“You are!”
The pogues are now hysterical as they have tears in their eyes at the exchange. Their friend is hammered and they are enjoying it a bit too much.
“J, we’re not married.”
He pouts at you and you swear it’s the cutest thing ever, which is why you lean into him to kiss his lips, full of love and adoration. He doesn’t waste one second before wrapping you in his arms and kissing you harder. The man might be wasted but he sure as hell remembers how to kiss you until you can’t breathe.
“You’re my wife,” he mumbles against your parted lips, which turn up into a sweet smile.
“Fine, baby, I’m your wife.”
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jakeyp · 2 years
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2K CELEBRATION › 🦜 + heartstopper requested by @djarin​ (insp.)
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year
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Can I get more of the Angle and devil on the shoulder AU with Steve and Eddie oneshot but a little smutty like maybe y/n gets embarrassed that they’re probably seen her getting off(and if this could be a series that would be amazing but you don’t have too you’re the writer)
A/N: ah yes! the devil and the ANGLE ♡ (sorry, I had to tease. we've all made that spelling error and it's always hilarious)
and I realise this one is more of just some lore and warm up, hardcore smut is yet to come, though a thing I am DROOLING to write. if anyone has any ideas (they can be kinda darkish because I'm honestly feeling that vibe for this au) then please send them my way!
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist | join my 2k celebration!
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“Can you just like go away?”
“That’s not really how it works, sweetheart,” Steve explained to you, “if we go, then you won’t notice it at all. When we aren’t on the job, when we go back, it’s on a different dimension than this one, and time there, um, it works differently, it’s kinda weird and isn’t connected to here where you are at all. Does that make sense?” he cocked his head slightly and gazed upon you as if you were the most adorable child he had ever seen. 
“But you can’t even just turn around?” you kept on asking, your brows still stubbornly furrowed, “just for a bit? Just like while I’m in the shower or something? Or even stand on the other side of the door?”
“Why?” Eddie chimed in from his leisurely position at the foot of your bed, “is it really so bad having an audience? Because it’s nothing new, you’ve had it all your life…” propping himself up onto his elbows and caught your eye as he spoke, “every moment, every second, we’ve seen everything…” smirking at your flustered reaction. Eddie’s eyes then flickered down over your form, taking in even the tiniest little twitch your body made under his observation. Keeping his voice low, he asked teasingly, “you wanna be alone right now, honey?”
Breathing out a nervous chuckle, you averted your gaze, “what makes you think that?”
“You forget that we know you,” his tongue poked the side of his cheek and he slowly moved in closer to where you were seated, “your breathing pattern, your flushed cheeks, your bitten lip, how tightly you’re crossing your legs right now and, oh, your nipples poking through your shirt, saying hello,” you let out a small gasp as he grazed a hooked knuckle over one of them, his cold rings just shyly missing your goosebump ridden skin, “you wanna be alone right now or am I wrong?”
“I-…” you breathed as you looked back at his challenging gaze, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” you tried to look away, but your vision never strayed for too long.
“Oh, I think you do,” he teased, leaning in closer, “it’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to be shy with us,” your breath got caught in your throat as he bowed down to be right by your neck, never truly touching, just grazing faintly against your skin like a ghost, “like I said, we’ve already seen everything…” 
Feeling his soft lips press against your skin, your eyes fluttered a moment, coming to a complete close, before focusing in on the man still leaning against your dresser, anticipating for him to interject, but he didn’t, Steve just stood there, arms casually crossed and watched with a gentle smile upon his lip as the sly devil in front of you slowly kissed his way up your neck. 
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© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble
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peachypinkygloss · 8 months
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༉‧₊˚✧
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⁀➴ event started on 07/24/2023 ... event ended on 08/06/2023
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♡・navigation ; main masterlist ; dark masterlist.
♡・announcement post.
🗝 key: f — fluff a — angst s — smut d — dark ꨄ — personal favourites
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧
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‧₊˚ kitchen activities. [ f, s ]
You had a long day at work so Seokjin decides to treat you like a princess.
‧₊˚ co-parenting.
You still pretend you hate him, but he knows it's just an act.
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢
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‧₊˚ heartbeat. [ a, s ]
Marriages are rarely simple. Yours and Yoongi's is no exception.
‧₊˚ there's more to him. [ s ]
Yoongi hates you, but he seems to never get enough of your pussy.
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤
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‧₊˚ intoxicated. [ s ]
Drugs make everything better. Even sex.
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧
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‧₊˚ sweaty and steamy. [ f, s ]
Namjoon is very busy with work so you decide to visit him at his studio. You both end up sweaty and steamy.
‧₊˚ petty behaviour. ꨄ
You're being a bit petty with Namjoon since the day he got promoted and not you. Being a bitch has consequences.
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧
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‧₊˚ midnight sex. [ s ] ꨄ
Your hormones make you extra horny during your pregnancy and Jimin is there to help you.
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠
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‧₊˚ renard. [ f ]
You find an injured fox near the sheep pen and decide to save him.
‧₊˚ thief of your love. [ a, s ] ꨄ
On the moon or in the middle of the ocean, he'll find you.
‧₊˚ fangirl. [ s ]
Fucking Taehyung after a basketball practice is your favourite activity.
‧₊˚ jazz singer. [ f ]
They don't know him the way you do.
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤
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‧₊˚ good girl. [ s ]
You're eager to please your boyfriend, but you have to ask politely first.
‧₊˚ crafting new memories / erasing old memories [ s, d ] ꨄ
You're his and nothing else matters.
‧₊˚ big boy.
You finally fall for Jungkook's charms.
‧₊˚ you like that?. [ s ]
You didn't think the nerdy boy in your class was a master at eating pussy.
‧₊˚ apollo. [ f, s ]
You and your boyfriend have fun in the shower.
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬
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‧₊˚ remember. [ s, d ] ꨄ
When alone in the house, your stepbrothers play with you.
‧₊˚ just having fun. [ s ]
You don't know how you got in this situation, but you won't complain.
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© 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐲𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 | Do not repost or copy any of my work.
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wardenparker · 1 year
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The Date
Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Inspired by the already beloved Teacher Ben sketch from Pedro’s SNL appearance, this fic is dedicated to every single reader with a HUGE hug and a kiss straight from me to you. Just over about two weeks ago I passed the 2k follower mark and I am so incredibly humbled by everyone’s love and encouragement. Writing makes me happier than almost anything else in the world and I am blown away by the sheer number of you who stop by my little corner of the tumblrsphere to read the words that I produce along with my beloved @absurdthirst​. There is absolutely no end to our collaborations in sight and I am thrilled to keep rolling out fun stories week after week 🧡
Rating: Explicit! 18+  Word Count: 19.9k Warnings: Age gap (reader is an adult student of unspecified age), mentions of deceased spouse, awkward flirting, reader is bad with social cues, Marcus on a Motorcycle, using superpowers for foreplay, begging, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex (superhero stamina).  Summary: After spending the semester becoming friends with your criminal justice professor, retired Heroic Marcus Moreno, it appears that your crush isn’t so unrequited after all. Notes: I was very sleepy doing this edit, so I’m sorry if I missed some things.
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Sometimes you really do sit through classes waiting for a cartoonish sounding bell to ring and it’s just too bad. The general education classes that you have to take really aren’t your cup of tea, even though you know you need them for your degree and really should be paying attention. But you’re not going to need chemistry when you restart your career as a high school English teacher. Nor are you going to need the complex algebra and trigonometry that stumped you the first time you went to college. And you’re probably not going to need to understand the intricacies of the criminal justice system either - but this class was a little gift to yourself. 
The hottest professor you could have ever dreamt of in a three-times-a-week lecture that frequently includes anecdotes from his legendary career as the leader of the Heroics. Since the first day of this class it’s been like a real life version of the Indiana Jones scene where undergrads have love notes written on their eyelids and leave him gifts and notes hoping for a smidgen of extra attention, and you can’t really blame them. The thing is, the poor kids don’t stand a chance. He has a daughter nearly their age and couldn’t ever shake the feeling of how young they are. Or at least that’s what he told you the first time you sat together in the student union to eating lunch together after class. Marcus is sweet. He’s charming and maybe a little insecure socially, but when he stands up in front of the class he commands attention at the drop of a hat. He’s incredibly smart - genius, even - and he doesn’t make friends easily. That’s what he told you the fourth time you had lunch together in the student union after his class was over. Which is why you’ve kept your own crush a very tightly wrapped secret for the entire semester. You’re friends now, or at least very good acquaintances, and you wouldn’t jeopardize that for the world.
But next week is the final, and once that’s over you’ll have no excuse to sit and talk about your favourite books or how crazy his daughter is driving him now that she’s fifteen and learning to drive. Last week Missy had used the word girlfriend to refer to a girl in her friend group for the very first time and Marcus had nearly hyperventilated telling you about it. You’re friends. Loose ones, at least. And if you don’t screw up your courage and say something by next week, it might all go away. And you think you might regret that even more than not graduating college The first time you went, many years ago.
Marcus sighs as he flips the tie over his hand and pulls the knot through. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror as he does. Why he still wears a tie, he hasn’t quite worked out, but it’s a part of his routine and made him feel a bit more like the uniform he had worn for most of his life. If you called black jeans, a tac vest and double swords a uniform. Pushing the knot up to tighten it, he glances at the clock on his nightstand and curses. “Shit.” He had promised to grab you a coffee on the way into class and he doesn’t want to fuck that up. “Get moving, Moreno.”
The city buses are remarkably punctual today, getting you to campus twenty minutes before class instead of leaving you scrambling with just a few minutes to spare, and you take your time walking to the history building where his class is held. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you get to see Professor Moreno today. It’s going to be a good day. Whether it’s a brave day is still up for debate.
Marcus has a habit of frowning as he thinks. Shuffling papers on his desk as he mentally files through the itinerary for the day as he sips on the coffee he had gotten for himself. The other one on his desk was the triple shot, two pumps vanilla, one pump one chocolate, one pump raspberry latte that you had sworn was your favorite drink at the coffee shop he always stopped by. The fact that he ordered the same thing for himself to try was not going to be mentioned, but it was good.
“Morning.” Being a commuter is a boon today. There are no other students in the classroom when you open the door, and the man you only call Marcus in private is already sitting at his desk pouring over papers. The soft green tie matches the color in his plaid shirt and you smile reflexively. He’s so stunningly handsome, especially like this.
“Morning.” Immediately, Marcus looks up from his notes, standing up right after that as if he’s been caught doing something wrong. Being a fucking idiot is what he’s being, but at least he resists rolling his eyes at himself. “I see you’re early. Wanting that coffee Huh?” He asks, grinning slightly as he pushes the extra cup towards you.
“The bus was on time today.” The way he always seems to get flustered when he’s interrupted is adorable and you bite your lip to hold back a grin. “You really didn’t have to get my drink for me…but I appreciate it.” Your friendship has been built over a semester of these small gestures, and to say you didn’t love them would be an absolute lie.
“Caffeine is medically necessary.” Marcus jokes, picking up his own cup and taking another sip. It really is good, and he’s surprised by that considering he normally just drinks coffee black.
“It’s true.” Stepping further into the room, you pull one of the chairs away from the long tables that serve as desks and set it beside his desk at the front of the room to sit with him for a few minutes. “So…” The grin you flash him is teasing, but you are probably only going to get a few more times like this with him so you want to make the most of them. “How’s Missy and her girlfriend?”
Marcus shakes his head and winces. “I’m not okay with her dating.” He huffs, nearly pouting at the idea. “She was born like six months ago.”
“I just think it’s incredible that she came out to you so easily.” According to Marcus, he had come home from a day of teaching about a year ago to find Missy icing cupcakes with rainbow frosting as her own way of breaching the topic. It had been an immensely emotional night for them both. “Teenagers get rebellious over practically everything. It’s fantastic that she trusts you enough to tell you who she is and to tell you about this girl.”
“She knows I’m not going to change the way I look at her.” Marcus shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “She’s my little girl, and if I’m honest, there were signs since she was little.”
“That’s my point though.” You reason, picking up your coffee and humming at the taste. “She knows you love her no matter what. If I had come out to my parents at that age? I would have been lucky not to end up in therapy.”
“Oh, yeah, no, nothing like that at all.” It’s funny how swiftly the little arrow of intrigue or hope quickly pierced his heart. The small crush he had developed on you over the course of the class - despite the impropriety if it - crashing down. “I’m sorry you didn’t have supportive parents like that.”
“It’s fine now.” The way his face changes makes you want to scramble to recover, unsure of what you could possibly have said to upset him when you meant to pay him a compliment. “Being bisexual wasn’t even on their radar back then. They had no idea the word even existed let alone that it applied to their little girl.” You shrug, afraid you’ve offended him by accident. “I might as well have told them I was a Martian.”
Bisexual. While Marcus doesn’t sag in relief of the clarification, the angsty guilt over inappropriate thoughts of someone who would not be interested in a man ease. “It worked for Clark Kent, right? Though he was Krytonian.” He says, sending you a small smile. “No weirder than ‘hey mom, I can manipulate metal’. Right?”
“Honestly I think that would have been easier for her.” When you shrug again, you bury your face behind your coffee cup and studiously command yourself not to get too dreamy over that smile of his. “I just…you’re doing a great job. That’s all. Don’t downplay the fact that your teenage daughter is comfortable and confident in telling you who she is.”
“I never want her to feel like she can’t come to me for anything. Even if it was a boy and…birth control.” Marcus isn’t dumb, he knows what teenagers do, he was one of them once. Despite his Heroic future, hormones did drive a lot of his actions when he was around her age.
That earns him another small laugh from you, and you lean back in your chair. “Well I say points to this girl. If Missy’s anything like her dad then she’s amazing. And that means this girl is lucky as hell.”
He shuffles slightly, trying not to take the compliment for more than what it is. Reassurance. He lifts his coffee cup to his lips again to hide the grin he can’t quite suppress. “Thanks.” He murmurs. “Although it’s been a long time for me.”
“Oh?” It’s not as though you had dug through any of the gossip about him. That would have been disrespectful. But he was a well known celebrity when his wife passed away a few years ago and he had only stopped wearing his ring recently, by the band of untanned skin on his left finger. You had never pried for information, but you’re definitely curious.
He gives a small shrug of his shoulders. The pain of losing his late wife is still there, it always will be, but it’s not as devastating as it had been in the beginning. He would always love her, but he’s still living and she’s gone. “Not since Emily.” He confirms quietly. “Avoided the entire ‘widower pity sex’ that was surprisingly being pushed on me a lot more than I ever imagined.”
“I’m sorry things were pushed on you.” It’s not necessarily for you to apologize, but you can certainly express sympathy. “Being ready to put yourselves out there isn’t something you can rush. It takes time to heal.” Which is part of why you’ve kept your feelings deeply, deeply under wraps.
“A lot of it was because I needed time to heal, I didn’t want to change Missy’s life more than it already had been, and we were navigating our grief together.” Marcus had talked about a lot of this with his therapist, but it’s nice to have someone like you he can also talk to. “Plus, I was leaving the Heroics and starting to teach.”
“Your whole life changed.” You nod slightly, head bobbing with the motion. “When it changes again should be up to you and no one else.”
“Might be time.” Marcus admits, trying not to show how much that terrifies him. “Spend more time at home alone than I do with Missy. It’s…highlighted how reclusive I’ve become.”
"Might be?" You honestly would be embarrassed if he could hear how hard that makes your heart beat. It's not like he's talking about you, but you can't help the way it makes you feel.
“I’ve….thought about dating again.” He looks around the classroom for a moment before he finally looks at you again. “Think it’s a dumb idea?” He asks softly, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. His hands are starting to dampen and he quickly slides them against his darker pants.
"Why would that be dumb?" It's baffling that he would even ask that, since he's easily the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life and an absolute angel of a human. "You deserve to be happy. Whatever that means for you. If dating against would make you happy, then..." Then you will dutifully sit and listen to him gush about whoever the luckiest woman in the world is, if he wants to stay friends. "Then whoever you choose will be incredibly lucky."
That buoys his confidence and he nods before he looks back down at his papers. “So-“
“Hey Professor Moreno!” His head snaps up to see one of the other students from your class practically bounce through the door, filled with nervous, flirty energy. He’s well aware that the girl had a crush on him and while he was flattered, she was vastly too young for him.
“Monica.” He greets her, making her beam as she slides over towards his desk. His eyes meet yours and he swears that he sees disappointment at being interrupted swimming in your orbs.
Right before the door opened you could have sworn he was going to say something to you - maybe even something sweet or flirtatious if your wildest dreams ever came true. But Monica is...determined...and she is right about to stare you down. "I should let you focus," you murmur, standing up with your coffee in one hand and your other on the back of your chair.
“You’re okay.” Marcus insists, actually more comfortable with you here rather than talking to Monica by herself. It was bad enough when she showed up for office hours. “What do you need?” He asks her, shifting into a more professional demeanor than he had with you.
"I was hoping to speak to you privately." Monica casts you a derisive glance and shifts her weight between her feet. "That's why I came early."
“Is it…about the coursework?” Marcus asks carefully. He doesn’t like the social aspect that some of the younger students try to draw him into.
"It is regarding senior week." Smoothing one hand down her front, Monica squares her shoulders and fairly glares at you. "I didn't think it would be appropriate to rub it in my classmate's face that she isn't graduating yet."
“It's fine." Even though you have no idea what you did to make Monica dislike you, you're not about to cause a fuss on the second-to-last day you might get to see Marcus. There's no room in your schedule next year to take one of his other classes and taking more criminal justice classes doesn't make any sense with your major anyway. You step back, taking your chair with you, to go put your books down at the table a few feet away.
“What can I help you with?” Marcus crosses his arms over his chest and frowns slightly. He doesn’t understand the animosity that seemingly rolls off of the younger girl towards you. It doesn’t make sense.
"As you know." Monica perks up immediately, feeling victorious at your retreat and Professor Moreno's attention being squarely on her. "Senior week always includes guests of honour from the staff and faculty." What she hopes he doesn't know is that the staff and faculty guests have already been chosen for the dinner dance. Otherwise her cover will be blown. "It would be very exciting if you would agree to come to the senior week dinner dance as a special guest." As her special guest, specifically, but Monica doesn't word it like that.
“Oh.” Marcus shuffles slightly and rocks on his heels as he looks around the classroom as he thinks about how to let this girl down. “While I am flattered…I am not able to attend.” He explains. “I am due to take my daughter to her grandparents across the state that night.”
"And it would be impossible to bring her earlier?" With a lack of understanding and empathy so obviously on display, Monica all but pouts. "It will be such a special night."
“I’m sure it will be.” Marcus frowns and his tone turns slightly frosty. “But my daughter will be getting out of school and wanting to see her mother’s parents.”
The young woman huffs, immaturity fully on display, and puts her hand on her hip like she's about to transform into a version of herself twenty years in the future that would be demanding to see his manager. "Whatever," she scoffs. "You have no idea what you'll be missing."
Marcus rocks his jaw, instantly transforming into the leader of the Heroics when he had dealt with the most stubborn of the other superhero’s. “Miss Anderson, I suggest you take your seat unless you wish to be dropped from the class.” He manages tightly. “Which will affect your own graduation date.”
The hmmphf from her is as pronounced as the pouty frown on her face, but Monica spins around, throwing you a dirty look in the process as she storms across the classroom to sit down and probably not pay much attention during this last study session Marcus will be leading.
Sighing softly, Marcus look down at the papers in front of him. Why couldn't someone just accept that a man who was old enough to be her father wasn't interested gracefully? He doesn't understand it.
His mood seems sour for the entire study session, and it’s not that you can’t understand why. Monica and the undergrad girls didn’t know how to take no for an answer, apparently. You do - at least you expect it - so you’ve just never asked the question. By the end of class you have to assume that his nerves are frayed and he won’t have the presence of mind for your usual lunch together, so you just start to pack up.
Once the class is over, Marcus looks over at you. Frowning slightly when he sees you move towards the door, he calls your name quickly. Unsure if you've changed your mind about walking to lunch together or if something has come up.
The last group of your classmates blows past you when you freeze three feet from the doorway and turn back. “I didn’t know if you’d be up to lunch,” you admit, feeling a little sheepish about it. “You seem preoccupied. I didn’t want to presume.”
"No, uh, I'm sorry." He deflates slightly and sighs. "I just- Monica." He gestures toward the door as if that explains it. "I don't understand. I'm too old for her."
“It’s a fantasy.” The way you shrug your shoulders is completely tense, like you have no intention whatsoever in admitting that you’ve had those same fantasies about him yourself. “They don’t see the reality of it. Only the glossy story they’ll tell their friends.”
"I guess." He won't deny that he had crushes on teachers and professors when he was younger, but he had never been so bold to think they would want him. "I just- I guess I think too much like a dad." He huffs at himself. "She's not that much older than Missy."
"I think that's thinking like a dad just the right amount." The door shuts behind the rest of your class and you shove your hands in your pockets with your bag high on your shoulder. "What did she...ask you? If you don't mind me asking?"
“She wanted me to go to the dinner dance as a special guest.” He picks up his own bag and tosses it on his shoulders. “Didn’t take the very polite ‘no’ very well.” He snorts. “She actually asked me if I could drop my daughter off at her grandparents another day.”
"That's...awkward." When you reach for the door handle this time it's to open it for him rather than to beat a hasty exit, and you follow him out the door. "And honestly, a little disrespectful."
“She doesn’t have to know that her grandparents live two hours away.” Marcus grins slyly, and shrugs.
"She shouldn't have been rude." The walk down the corridor is fairly quiet since the next class period has already started in this building, and you walk side-by-side with your professor one more time. "It was nice of you to try to let her down easy, even if she didn't let you, ultimately."
“I get having feelings you shouldn’t.” Marcus risks looking over at you for a second before he looks back down at the path in front of you. “For people you shouldn’t.”
“How so?” If you had seen him glance at you then you might have had some idea of what he meant, but you were busy trying not to trip over the obvious coffee spill left by a previous student.
Marcus sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets as he ignores the looks from the students as the two of you walk through the campus. He doesn’t see a lot of the adoration that seems to be thrown his way. “She’s…it’s not like a younger student or anything. Not like Monica.”
“Oh? Oh! You’ve been—?” You can’t help the way your whole face falls, registering that apparently he’s been seeing another student and you didn’t ever know. As fast as your silly schoolgirl crush has grown over the course of the semester, you can feel it being stamped out with every new step you take down the corridor together. “Well, she’s…she’s very lucky…” You choke out, shoving your hands into your pockets with determination.
“No! No, I haven’t - I can’t, it’s not—” Marcus groans. “She’s my student, I haven’t thought it was…appropriate to ask her out.” He rolls his eyes at himself, wondering where were those fucking balls of steel he had to have when saving the world when he needs them now. “I- it would have been wrong, right? But I have been thinking about it.”
“I mean…I guess it depends?” Even though it crushes your heart more than a little to debate this with him, he’s your friend and…and ultimately you want him to be happy. And some people might argue that that is a blaring siren for having feelings, but that’s a moot point now. “It’s the end of the semester, so…theoretically I guess it would depend on the relationship you have with this girl outside of…ya know…the classroom.”
"I think we're pretty good." Marcus inhales softly. "We've spent some time together, a lot less than I'd like, but I guess I don't know what she thinks about it."
“Then you should probably ask her.” And tonight, when you go home to pour yourself a glass of wine for studying, you’ll use your really big wine glass to mourn the passing of the chance you never got. “You can’t know unless you ask.”
"Yeah....." Fundamentally, Marcus knows that. And it's not like you are giving much away with your answers so he can't even use that to judge how you would react. "I need to, but I'm also worried about it changing things for the worse."
“I can’t see anyone turning you down,” you admit, feeling your voice drop a little and your shoulders slump. If you were brave enough to take your own advice, then you wouldn’t be walking at his side listening to him theorize about asking out another woman.
“So…..how do you feel about driving up the coast?” Marcus ventures softly. “Thought we could take a little ride, find a nice roadside spot to eat? Look out over the water.”
It takes you a long moment to register what he’s saying, but when you finally do, your head ticks up and you freeze in your steps, doing your best not to stare while you try to remember how to speak. “Wait, I— me?” You ask, so bewildered that your voice jumps and you’re pointing at your own chest. “You meant me?”
“Shit, I knew this was going to happen. You don’t- it’s okay.” Marcus quickly reassures you. “You don’t have to, I - it won’t affect your grade, they are done anyway. I- just forget I said anything, okay?”
“No! N-no, I meant— I didn’t realize you liked me, too.” And if you could bury your head in the ground in embarrassment right now, you absolutely would. “Please, you don’t…don’t take it back? I’d love to go.”
“Are you sure?” Both you and Marcus have stopped walking and he turns towards you. “I don’t- you don’t have to, I just- I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and….” He blows out a huff of laughter. “I’d like to get to know you more now that you aren’t my student.”
“I’m really sure.” If it were possible to show him exactly how much without seeming overeager - or worse, desperate - you absolutely would, but right now you’re just smiling so hard you feel like your face might split. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you too, and I…” Flustered, you end up laughing at the way the two of you stammer out insistences and reassurances, and you just nod. “Why don’t we say next weekend? Final will be over and I’ll officially no longer be your student in any way.”
“Missy will be with her grandparents.” Marcus nods. “And I’ll officially not be your professor. So there’s nothing improper about it anymore.”
“I don’t even think you’re capable of being improper.” The little tease makes you grin, knowing that you might have said it before but now it’s flirting.
Marcus flushes slightly, aware that some of his thoughts were far from proper. “You’d be surprised.” He huffs, both of you starting to walk towards the food court again.
“Oh yeah?” It seems so improbable, and you laugh softly while you walk. “Are you telling me the world’s most wholesome retired superhero has a rebellious side?”
Marcus snorts, “well, Emily was about three months pregnant with Missy when we got married…” He offers in way of proof. “And despite my mama’s objections, I still have my motorcycle.”
“So you’re telling me that you’re the one who has been Clark Kent-ing this whole time?” You raise an intrigued eyebrow at him as you walk, but keep your hand stuffed firmly in your pocket so you don’t do something stupid like reach for him out of excitement. “The real Marcus is wandering hands and engine grease?” Oh god…both versions sound amazing…
Marcus smirks at the comparison and there might be a slight air of cockiness to his shrug. “There’s a difference between the public image and the private man, let’s just say that.” He offers. This is why he’s enjoyed your company, he loves being able to talk to you. No expeditions, no judgment. It’s vastly different from a lot of his other interactions with people and he loves it.
"Color me intrigued." And honestly a little turned on, but you'll keep that to yourself for now. The dining hall is just up ahead and it's just beginning to be busy, as people like you and Marcus who are filing out of your midmorning classes are lured in by the smell of lunch.
“Is that a good intrigued or have 9-1-1 on speed dial intrigued?” Marcus jokes, lunging forward to open the door for you when you both get close enough.
You knew he would get the door. He always does. In fact, he glared at you when you had tried to do it yourself a few weeks ago - as though you should certainly know better by now. “I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. It could be fun. Or it might be terrifying.”
“Wellllllll, that was kinda the plan, if you want.” Marcus admits, a slightly boyish grin on his face. “Have you wrap your arms around me and hang on while we ride.”
“No dress. Got it.” Wrap your arms around him and hang on? Apparently when this man flirts he has the ability to make you weak in the knees and nearly pout with just a few sentences. “I have a very definite feeling that I’m going to like motorcycles.”
Marcus can’t help the slightly dirty way his grin turns. “Better than a washing machine.” He hums.
“Marcus!” The scandalized laugh that makes it out of you is practically giddy to see this side of him and you stick close to his side once you’re in the bustling main dining hall. “Maybe I do want to wear a dress, in that case.”
Marcus chuckles and looks over the options for the day and then at you. “What are you feeling today?” He asks. “They have that grilled chicken salad you like.”
“And they have gyro today,” you point up at the menu and offer him a shy smile, Realizing for the first time how much he’s really absorbed about you personally over the course of the semester. “Just try telling me that’s not your favorite. I dare you to lie.”
“Only because you start singing that song every time I sit down with it.” Marcus huffs, flushing slightly.
“‘Holding Out for a Gyro’ is the best parody song ever written.” You shrug your shoulders proudly. “Sorry, Weird Al. I win this one.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “And it’s funny every time I hear it.” He enjoyed the playful banter between the two of you. “If it’s aided by a delicious meal? That makes it even better.”
“Then I think we’ve got to do it.” He’s so relaxed now, and you wonder how many times when you were in line like this or sitting with coffee, did he feel the tension of attraction the same way you did? It’s a relief to know it wasn’t one sided after all. “For old time’s sake.”
“Absolutely.” Marcus shoots you a smirk, and nods towards your line. “Meet you at the table we normally have?” It’s not an assigned table, but the corner table is rarely occupied when you have lunch together.
"Absolutely." To have anything be both of yours sends a shiver of excitement through you and you try not to giggle or anything similarly giddy. "I'll see you in a few minutes."
Making his way over to the correct station, he can’t help but seek you out. Telling himself that it’s just because he wants to make sure you aren’t waiting for him for too long, he can’t help but grin when your eyes find him and you smile.
You tell yourself that the butterflies are because it’s new, and because new is exciting. It’s not because you’re expecting anything, or even know if the date will go well. But your instincts are good and your intuition is worth listening to - and that gut you’ve spent years cultivating is telling you that this could be the start of something amazing if you let it.
You get your salad before Marcus gets his own food, making him watch you as he walks towards the table where you are already settling in. “Do you need napkins?” You always forget them and it’s a little habit that he has developed to grab more.
“You know I do.” He’s attentive. It’s something you’ve grown to appreciate about him during the time you’ve been getting to know him. “Just like I know you didn’t grab a fork and you’re going to regret it when that wrap gets messy halfway through.” The Extra fork on your tray is ready and waiting just like the extra napkins on his.
“Look at us playing to each other’s weaknesses.” Marcus chuckles, knowing that he will be using the fork. He always does and yet every time he doesn’t get one when the utensils are next to the napkins.
“I like to think of it as paying attention.” You counter, moving things around your tray to get it set up just the way you like. “We’ve both found each other worth paying attention to.”
“At least you also paid attention in class.” Marcus snorts, opening up the cup of extra tzatziki sauce he always asks for, along with extra pickled red onions. “You have one of the top five grades. Seriously, you should pursue criminal justice.”
“It would be a hell of a gear change from teaching high school English.” The cup of vinaigrette that comes with your chicken salad is unceremoniously dumped into the container and you pop the lid back on to shake it up and get everything evenly coated. “I honestly took the class because I love mysteries so much. I thought taking something about fighting crime would be fun.” You hadn’t even known who was teaching it when you signed up. Finding out you had Marcus for a professor was a delightful surprise.
“I think it’s a good idea to have everyone take at least one class.” Marcus knows you know this. It was basically his opening speech to his class. “Knowing about our system is necessary.”
"I completely agree." The discussions about how neither of you understand the resistance to understanding how the country you live in works have happened a few times over the last few months, usually in regard to a classmate saying something ignorant or someone illustrating a cultural difference between the US and the culture they grew up in. Discussions could either feel like you were banging your head against a wall or you could learn something truly interesting.
“So..” Marcus looks over at you as he scrapes the rest of the sauce out onto his gyro. “Are you ready for the summer? Or are you taking more courses?” He knows you are working towards your degree while working, so he’s not sure how it looks for you.
"I have a second job lined up for the summer. I'll keep busy and pocket as much money as I can." Working through the busy summer tourist season has always treated you well, and the company you work with has no problem accommodating your class schedule or your other job. "I'm on track to graduate next year as long as I don't run into a problem with any of my senior classes, so I'll spend my summer working and trying to get ahead in my reading if any of my professors are willing to hand out their reading lists early." It was the first email you always sent to a professor - asking if they wouldn't mind sending a reading list to you ahead of the start of the semester - and usually it helped establish you as a serious student early on. Being a slow reader meant you had to be prepared.
“Let me know what classes you are taking and I’ll be able to tell you what most of them have set out.” Marcus offers. “It’s good to have a jump on things.” It’s not just an offer because you’re going out on a date with him. He would offer it to any serious student. Just many of them hadn’t wanted to go beyond the unsubtle flirting.
“I’m a slow reader.” You shrug, digging your fork into your salad. “Taking a lot of classes that require extensive reading. Especially next year.” The first bite of your lunch is bright and crisp and refreshing as always, and you just let yourself enjoy it for a minute while you chew. “What about you?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “Any big summer plans with Missy?”
“Missy’s going to be with her grandparents most of the summer.” Marcus admits, hating that he will miss her, but she needs to spend time with Emily’s family. He was always welcomed, but he wanted her to bond with them without having dad hanging around.
“Oh?” He looks like he’s not thrilled with the idea, but you know how much he loves his daughter and he’s probably just aware of how much he’ll miss her - something you can’t blame him for in the least. That does, however, leave your mind open to think about very specific things…like spending the night together without having to worry about preteen eyes or ears.
“Yeah. So I’m going to be doing a lot of reading by the pool.” Marcus predicts. “Retirement from the Heroics left a lot of downtime that I hadn’t expected when I went into teaching.”
“It sounds relaxing, at least.” Would you kill to see Marcus lounging lazily, sunbathing shirtless with a book and a beer on any random summer day? It sounds like a dream. “If you want a change of scenery, sometimes the country club I work at gives us guest passes on slow days. You could read by a different pool if you wanted to?”
“So you’re inviting me to sit by your pool…” Marcus grins. “How good are your piña coladas?”
“Marcus I’m a bartender.” You pretend to be scandalized but just end up giggling when you take a sip of your drink. “My piña coladas are flawless, thank you very much.”
“I guess I will have to try them for myself.” Marcus teases, sending you a small wink. “Have you serving me frozen beverages all summer?”
"In my extremely sexy polo shirt and khaki shorts." The snort he gets from you is pure amusement, but the way you're smiling is so very, very pleased. Having him actively flirt with you is turning into a happy little puddle. "You'd be the only one actually allowed to leer."
“I will keep all my leering respectful.” He promises playfully. “Although you might be embarrassed to have such an old man flirt with you in public, even if you are used to it all the time.”
"If you're hanging out at the club this summer, then I'm assuming it will be because we've decided to keep seeing each other." And that thought alone makes you nearly giddy. "In which case I will be proud to have you respectfully leering while I work."
Marcus hums and picks up his gyro. “Then we will have to see if we are as good outside of ‘just friendly’ as I think we will be.” He tells you before he takes his first bite and groans at the flavors.
"I guess we will." You grin at him, forking up another bite of your lunch, and barely keep yourself from outright giggling. Next week can't come fast enough.
******
The nerves that come with getting ready for a ‘first date’ for the first time in nearly twenty years catches Marcus off guard. Panicking in the shower as he wonders if he’s made the date too casual, too presumptuous. What if you hate motorcycles? Should he just have made reservations somewhere? He runs through every single scenario in his mind until he’s nearly jittery.
He has no way of knowing that you've been sitting giddily in your apartment - busying yourself here and there with cleaning or changing your outfit four times or staring at the first page of a new book for a half hour and only reading the same sentence over and over again because you're too excited to focus. As seven o'clock ticks closer and closer, there is just less and less chance of you concentrating on anything except thinking of Marcus.
The ride over to your apartment complex is easy and surprisingly quick. You don’t live too far away from him and the implications that spring from that have him reminding himself that it’s just the first date. Swinging his leg over the bike as he shuts it off, he smirks to himself as he looks back at the helmet he had strapped to the back for you to wear. It’s a gorgeous evening for a ride and the setting sun in a few hours would look amazing as you cruise along the coast.
You practically jump when the buzzer goes off, beating a hasty route from the bathroom mirror - where you were quadruple checking the claim that your new lipstick is transfer-proof - to the hall. “Hello?” Trying to sound carefree instead of out of breath, your voice pitches up one too many octaves when you press the button to answer.
“Hey.” Marcus grins at how breathless you sound, wondering if you are just as nervous as he is. “Can I come up, or do you want me to wait down here?” If you decide to just come down, that’s completely your choice and he won’t judge you either way.
"Come on up!" Having decided thirty seconds ago to change your shoes from flats to boots for the sake of the bike you hope he brought, you push the buzzer to let him in and scramble to your bedroom to grab your knee-high boots.
Marcus grins, opening the door and deciding to take the stairs rather than wait for the elevator since you are only on the second floor. Eager to see you and get the date started. The only reason there aren’t flowers in his hand, is because they wouldn’t survive the ride over but maybe the one flower he does have silk charm you.
The knock on your door comes barely two minutes later and you've barely zipped up your boots when you answer it. Marcus has always dressed up for his time on campus, but today he has a leather jacket thrown over his untucked green button-up and boots peeking out from under his jeans where he would normally wear Oxford. The difference is slight, but it's mouthwatering. "Hey." One little word, but it's all you can manage when you're grinning from ear to ear like a lunatic. "Come on in."
“Hey.” He wipes his hands on his pants, slightly nervous as he steps inside. It’s been a long time since he’s been on a date and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. “You look great. Like really good.” He compliments.
“So do you.” He’s so obviously nervous that it makes you smile, relaxing in the moment when you remember how long it’s been for him. Having you be equally nervous isn’t going to help him at all. “Let me just grab my purse and we can head out?”
“Sure.” Marcus clears his throat and reaches into the pocket of his riding jacket. “So flowers, fresh beautiful ones, are standard for a first date - but they wouldn’t have survived the ride over.” He offers as he pulls out the lone metal rose he had brought you. “So I hope you aren’t disappointed by this.”
“Marcus…” Twisted and pulled from glossy metal into the form of a single blooming rose, the bud is a gorgeous example of artistry all on its own. It speaks to care because it’s so delicate, and an eye for beauty, and you gasp softly when you accept it from his hands. “It’s stunning.”
“I made it.” Why did he just volunteer that? He huffs slightly at his fucking inability to act like a normal man for just one second. “It’s- yeah, I just wanted you to have a flower.”
“Just because you don’t wear a uniform anymore, that doesn’t change who you are as a person.” It’s part of why you like him so much, if you’re honest with yourself. His being a hero isn’t all about his powers. He is fundamentally a good man.
“That’s very true.” He likes the fact that you have a very practical mindset about it. Some wouldn’t and it just means you are even more special than he had anticipated.
Out on the sidewalk in front of your building, his bike is easy to spot. The lone motorcycle in a parking lot of practical and family vehicles, it practically screams to be noticed and you love it. “I was hoping you were serious about bringing it.”
“Good.” Marcus practically beams at giddiness in your eyes. “It’s been a while since I’ve had time to go for a ride and figured it would be the perfect evening for it.”
“Absolutely perfect.” You couldn’t agree more, happily taking the second helmet from the back of his bike when he hands it to you.
Once you are as safe as you can be, Marcus straddles the bike and pulls it off the standing peg. “Get on behind me and hang on as tight as you want.”
“Dangerous thing to say to the woman who’s had a crush on you for the better part of five months.” The gentle laugh as you carefully climb into the back of the bike and wrap your arms around him is mostly teasing - but only mostly. Because you’d been lusting after him on TV for a lot longer than that.
Marcus chuckles as he starts the bike with a loud roar. Maybe showing off just slightly. He has backed into the parking spot so he can just take off with the twist of his wrist and he grins at the bubble of giggling that bursts out behind him as your arms tighten instinctively.
It’s a quick zip from your building to the Pacific Coast Highway. No more than a few minutes in the residential area puts you out enjoying the Southern California’ coastal salt air instead of smog. Each turn he takes hits right in the pit of your stomach and brings another bubble of giggles from your throat and you just hope he can hear them over the roar of the engine. Even if the night was just this - just riding around with him as your anchor - you would completely love it.
Marcus doesn’t try to speed and break your neck as he coasts along the Highway. This is about the leisure of the trip. Enjoying the scenery and he can feel you gasp when he takes one hand off the handlebars to point out some whales breaching just off the rocky coast.
It’s silly. It’s silly to worry. You’re with one of the world’s only literal superheroes. Nothing is going to happen to you. But you still clutch him a little bit tighter whenever he lets go of the handlebars to point. The smile on his face is free and easy and he seems to love the gasps from your lips, so you don’t bother feeling embarrassed. If you were nervous it’s already melted away. Being with Marcus is easy.
He doesn’t know how long you cruise, maybe an hour, hour and a half before he throttle down slightly. “When you see somewhere you want to eat, let me know!” He turns his head back towards you and shouts it so you can hear.
A little further up the road, a brightly painted seafood shack with a cartoon lobster wearing a captain’s hat on its sign. “Right there!” You call through the engine and wind noise, barely letting go of him long enough to point. It looks unpretentious and like it hasn’t changed owners or gimmicks in decades. Perfect for your breezy, relaxed evening ride.
“Okay.” Marcus immediately slows down more, letting go of the handle bars again to give the signal for his turn as he guides the two of you into the parking lot.
You could swear you’re still vibrating when he cuts the engine and your feet are on solid ground again, but it’s not rattling or uncomfortable. It’s like a very tangible adrenaline buzz running all through your body and - yes, definitely shooting right between your legs.
“You okay?” Marcus asks as soon as he takes off his own helmet and sets it down on the back of the bike. It might not be cool to some to wear protection, but he’s got his daughter to think of. And despite his best efforts at trying to stay inconspicuous, sometimes he was photographed in public, not the example he wants to set for the younger generations.
“That was amazing.” The shit-eating grin on your face promises that you’re not lying, and you let him gently unbuckle your helmet to lift it away and set it with his as you stand up.
“Well, why don’t we have whatever tickles our fancy and then we can find a shaved ice place or ice cream stand?” He offers.
"Sounds pretty perfect." A dressed down night like this - something that's more about who you're with than what you're doing - is exactly the right kind of first date to you.
“Good.” His hand finds your back, up under your jacket by sheer coincidence as he moves you towards the small shack. “Maybe we can eat outside?” He offers.
"Why eat by the ocean if you can't see the water at the same time?" His hand is warm through the thin material of your dress and you unconsciously shift closer to him as you walk inside.
“My thoughts exactly.” Marcus grins. “Order a beer if you want, I’m going to have a soda since I’m the one driving.”
The place is simple - just a window with a huge menu board over it where you place your order and a counter a few yards down where you can pick up your filled order when your name is called. Tables inside are simple plastic with matching chairs, and outside there are picnic tables to extend the seating by another dozen or so tables. A plate of fish tacos and local beer sounds like the most Californian meal you've eaten in a long time, and perfect for tonight.
“God, everything smells so good.” He groans, practically drooling at the menu board. “Do you want to get a bunch of things and split them?” He asks.
"You're on." By the time you get up to the window to order you've picked out three or four things that sound amazing - not the least of which is the fish tacos which are marked on the menu as award winning. Your beer will be on the tray when it comes up but Marcus is given a cup for his soda and is pointed toward the drink fountain while you wait.
"What kind goes best with what we ordered?" He hums playfully as he surveys the soda options. There are a few but he's just playing around, seeing if you will point out your favorite. His theory is that you would take a sip of it if he picks that one. So you just aren't drinking beer.
“Hmmmm.” Pretending to think excruciatingly hard about it, you shrug your shoulders playfully and tap the Sprite logo currently staring you in the face. “It’s a palate cleanser,” you reason when he raises one eyebrow to ask for an explanation. “Bright, citrusy, sweet but not as heavy as Mountain Dew or root beer.” It’s also your favorite, but he doesn’t need to know that. Having a favorite soda is silly at your age.
"Good choice." Marcus actually agrees with your assessment and immediately starts adding ice so he can fill the cup with Sprite. "Kind of like having white wine with chicken or beer with chicken wings." He grins and winks at you as he fills the cup.
“The extremely low rent version of that,” you laugh though, leaning against the counter as he fills his cup. “But I like the low rent versions of things. Just because something is fussier doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better.”
"I always believe there are times to be fancy and then there are times to just be...happy." Marcus shrugs. "I figured that the first date should be easy and light, not stuffy in a fancy restaurant where we are bored to death and unable to find things to eat that we can pronounce."
"Now that is a theory I can get behind entirely." You snag him a paper straw from the container next to the drink dispenser and send him one of those winks that he seems so fond of, just to be playful. "Although I do speak passable Italian."
"You do?" That is new information and he's delighted to learn that. It's charming to know that about you and he grins as he nods. "I can see it. Have you traveled to Italy?"
"I never got to." It's a regret, to be sure, but you made up your mind a while ago to not let those things drag you down anymore. It's been too long. "The first time I was in college, I was an art history major. Most of my focus was on the Italian Renaissance, so Italian was kind of necessary."
“I see.” Marcus nods. “Maybe you will be able to visit once you have your degree.” He offers, knowing that traveling to foreign countries is important.
"Once I have my degree this time, I hope I'll be able to find a good job." The best you can really do is shrug, pretending that you hadn't had to set aside several lifelong dreams when you dropped out of college the first time around. As short a life as it had been then, you've always been a dreamer. "It's okay." Not wanting to bring the mood down, you offer him a sunny smile and turn to wait for his name to be called at the counter. "I'll get there someday."
"I don't doubt it for a second." Marcus promises you with a smile. You are tenacious and he knows you will make it happen for yourself. "How many more of your classes are you shy of graduating?" He asks, as he stands beside you.
"Seven." It sounds like so much and so little all at once, and you stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket to resist the insane urge you have to hold his hand. "One more full year, basically. But I have a spot open in case I don't pass something this semester and need to retake."
"That's a smart thing to do." He is impressed with the way that you are thinking ahead. "Sometimes you don't pass the first time around, I know I couldn't pass my freshman statistics course to save my life."
“I took Intro to Botany for my science general ed thinking it would at least be interesting.” But from your cringe, he can tell that that isn’t true. “It turned out to be both insanely difficult and insanely boring. Which is a shame.”
"Yeah...." Marcus shakes his head. "I'm not the biggest fan of that class." He doesn't like professor Issacs, but you don't need to know that. He's never particularly cared for him, finding him pompous and egotistical without contributing much to the faculty. He seemed to make the course load harder for his students than it needed to be.
“Well, if Isaacs decides to flunk me, it’ll be Earth Sciences in fall, instead.” Which you probably should have done in the first place, but hindsight is 20/20 and all that. “How’s your grading looking? Staring down the barrel of a hundred and fifty tests and papers?”
"I actually have it down to a science." Marcus tells you with a small grin. "I should be done with grading by Sunday at the latest."
“Look at you, Professor Smarty Pants. You’ll have to teach me your tricks if I ever actually become a teacher.” You tease, grinning when the girl behind the counter calls his name, looks up, and recognizes him.
“Moreno?” She asks, stunned and wide eyes. “Marcus Moreno?” Her voice manages to go up several octaves. “I- oh my god!”
Taking his drink and grabbing some napkins and utensils is the most helpful thing you can do, and you watch with a smile as Marcus shakes the girl’s hand and chats with her for a second before grabbing the tray with your dinner. He’s in his element with people - any kind of people - and you always get a warm sort of pride whenever you’re with him when he’s recognized. Despite having no claim on him but friendship, you’re still proud of him.
Marcus listens to the girl gush, he had apparently saved her about five years ago, right before he had quit going out into the field with the other Heroics. Making him recall the incident and he smiles as she thanks him for what he had done, shaking his head and claiming that it had been nothing. Grateful that you aren’t annoyed that he’s having time taken away from the date. When he finally comes back over to you, he gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” You push the door open to go outside and let him go through first with the tray. “You’ve saved people's lives. You saved that girl’s life. That’s no small thing. Not at all.”
“It’s bad, but I don’t remember her.” Marcus feels guilty, but it’s the truth. There were a lot of people that day.
“And she never has to know that.” There is one picnic table closer to the water than the others, and you both move toward it instinctively. “I can’t imagine you remembering every person you ever saved. But I’m sure they'll all remember you for the rest of their lives.”
“It’s daunting.” Marcus admits. “I don’t think it’s a secret that I don’t crave attention.” He snorts. “I’m not Miracle Guy.”
“No one is.” You smirk, knowing Miracle Guy’s reputation for tooting his own horn.
Marcus chuckles at your expression and shrugs slightly. “He’s got quite the fan club.”
“And he loves it. But fame isn’t everyone’s first choice.” At the table you set everything out between you and sit side by side so you can both look out over the water while you eat. “For what it’s worth? I like you just as you are.”
“Well thank you.” Marcus moves your beer over to you and grins. “While we eat, maybe you can tell me why you chose teaching?”
“Have we never talked about that?” He shakes his head when you ask and you pop the cap off your beer. “Teaching was always on my radar.” You tell him, figuring that’s the best place to start. “I thought about teaching art, originally. But when I was taking care of my mom…the thing that she had the most energy for was books. We would read together constantly, until it was just me reading to hear and we would talk about every chapter and every book together. It was our own private book club, and I fell in love with literature all over again.”
"I like that." Marcus hates the fact that it seems like your mother is gone, he can't even imagine losing his mother right now although his father died when he was twelve, but he reaches out and takes your hand. "I'm sure that those memories are the ones that she cherished the most." He murmurs softly.
It’s not exactly the way you wanted it to happen - out of sympathy instead of excitement - but you look down at his large hands covering yours and smile. “She was my best friend,” you tell him, aware that your voice has dropped a little. “And I just hope I’m making her proud.”
“Doing exactly what you want to do and living your life how you want to live it is exactly what would make a parent proud.” He knows not all parents subscribe to that, but he feels like your mother would, considering how you’ve turned out.
“Thanks.” You shake your head, almost trying to release the cobwebs from the corners of your mind. “Sorry…I…I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”
“You’re not bringing the mood down.” Marcus assures you, almost instantly. “Talking about our lives and what has happened is learning about each other. It’s the human condition that none of us are without personal tragedy.”
“I suppose.” Not wanting to let go just yet, you take a sip of your drink with your other hand. “Although most men would not feel that way on a first date. So thank you for being your compassionate self.”
“I am no stranger to things like this.” Marcus reminds you softly. “Do you know how many people hit on me at my wife’s funeral? And then didn’t understand why I was angry at them?”
“Are you serious?” The worst part is that you can imagine it. People offering to comfort the grieving widower with varying degrees of subtlety and lewdness. “That’s…that’s despicable, Marcus. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s done.” Marcus rubs his thumb in the back of your hand gently. “But I’ve learned that there are really good people in the world too, and you’re one of them.” He tells you with a soft smile.
“I really like you.” Though it comes out inelegantly, and you can feel your cheeks burn when you fear it, the sentiment is honest. “I mean…obviously. Since I’m here with you. But I guess I mean…I’m glad that you feel that way. Because the time that I’ve been able to spend with you is the happiest that I’ve been in a really long time.”
"That's good." He lights up, grinning broadly and can't quite hide the way his chest puffs out slightly at your praise of him and the time you have spent together. A lot of it has been innocent but it's a building block for what he wants. More.
With the air slightly clearer between you, you dig into your dinner with enthusiasm. The little roadside seafood shack is playing with no less than its A-game so everything is fresh and delicious. The sea is calm, treating you to crisp breezes and the occasional creature-sighting, and little joke after little joke piles up to have you both in a fit of giggles by the time the meal winds down. In your entire life a first date has never been this relaxed or fun, and you're starting to think that maybe you've just been dating the wrong people all along.
Marcus leans back and sighs. “Well, want to continue on and find our dessert stand?” He asks playfully, rubbing his stomach. “Or do you not have room?”
"There is always room for dessert." You tell him, with an air that you're giving some kind of sage wisdom. "Especially cold desserts on warm nights." It will be sundown soon and the mid-May sun is only just starting to lose power. "Do you know a place or are we driving until we find one?" Either way is fine with you. Either way is time spent with him.
“I’m kinda winging it.” Marcus admits with a grin. “Trying to be more spontaneous? Missy said I shouldn’t plan everything out like I do normally.”
"You told Missy?" Admittedly, you had been afraid to ask if he was going to or not, knowing that his relationship with his daughter means the world to him. You wouldn't have been surprised or offended if he had chosen to hold off on telling her about you until it became more serious. The fact that he did - that you seem to be important enough to him to have her know about you - floods you with warmth and joy.
“She’s the one that told me I needed to stop…how did she put it? “Being a wuss’  and ask you out.” He chuckles as he stands from the table and picks up the tray that you’ve both deposited all the trash from your dinner onto. He’ll throw it away and return the tray before getting back on the bike with you.
"Your daughter and my roommate." You can't help but chuckle a little, walking with him to the trash bins to chuck your beer bottle in the recycles. "Well...I'm glad one of us listened to our advice giver. I'm pretty sure I would have been too chicken when push came to shove."
“I was half convinced that I was making up the entire thing in my head.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at himself. “That maybe you just felt sorry for me and that’s why you ate lunch with me.”
"Not at all." The fact that he thought it, though, shows his humility. "Actually, at first I thought the reverse. That you were taking pity on your weird student who was older than everybody else by being friendly."
“God no.” Marcus breathes out. “You saved my sanity. Having someone who was understanding that it’s insane for all these girls to be wanting me?” He rolls his eyes. “There’s a group of them that started calling me ‘daddy’ and I just-“ he shrugs and laughs in that defeated and disbelieving kind of way. “Why?”
When you snort to keep from bursting out laughing, you can only hold up your hand to apologize. “Marcus, it’s because you’re hot. A sexy guy in a position of authority with a nurturing personality is a recipe for being a daddy.”
“But…I—” He trails off and his eyes widen slightly in realization. “Dear God.” He huffs after a long moment of silence.
“It’s a compliment,” you promise, looping your arm around him and hugging him while you desperately try to keep the laughter inside. “A slightly weird one, but a compliment nonetheless.”
“They do realize that I would never actually….date them, right?” He asks. “It would be so wrong.” Most of his class are seniors but the age gap widens every year and now there’s only three or four years between the freshman class and his daughter.
“The reasonable ones do. The less reasonable ones don’t care. That’s not the point.” Together you walk back around the tiny restaurant and out to the parking lot, but Marcus doesn’t move away from you so you keep your hand on him while you go. “They’ll get it out of their systems eventually and then you won’t have to hear it anymore. Besides, I think the ringleaders of that particular nickname are all graduating this year.” One of them was Monica, you know that for sure. But she’ll be graduated and gone in no time.
“Hopefully.” Marcus looks over at you, “although I wouldn’t mind a certain former student dropping by sometimes when she has time.” He teases.
“Oh yeah?” You smirk, unable to resist screwing with him just a little. “I’ll let Monica know. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”
“Do it and you’ll buy your own ice cream.” Marcus threatens playfully. He doesn’t mean it, but the idea of Monica haunting his office hours after graduation is almost enough to make his time by virtual connection only.
“That’s a very serious threat, you know.” You’re giggling when you make it to his bike, practically doubled over with it just from the mortified look on his face. “Of course I’ll drop by office hours. How else am I going to say hi?” Doing your best not to count on anything - or to get your hopes up too high - you have ended up just sort of assuming that he won’t want to go on another date after tonight. That it will be too weird for him or you won’t be as good as what he has built up in his mind before now. It’s helping to keep your expectations grounded, because your hopes are already imagining what it will be like to get to know his daughter.
“Welllllllll, I guess we could communicate through mirrors and reflections, smoke signals, or pigeon carriers.” Marcus snorts. “But I was hoping it would include the occasional phone call, or visit in person. I’ll even text.”
"I would pay money to see Missy teaching you how to text." That starts up the giggles again, but in a much more lighthearted way. "Look, Marcus..." You manage not to sigh, thank god, but your tone does trend a bit more serious. All fears aside for you, you know that he hasn't dated in an extremely long time and deserves some reassurance. "I told you that I really like you and I meant it. So if you decide you want to keep seeing me after tonight? I'm a commitment girl. So dropping by your office with snacks or to spend some time together will be a given."
“I know how to text.” Marcus grumbles, pouting at you slightly. “I just don’t. There’s no inflection. And how can I convey emotion?” He reaches out to take the helmet you had worn off the back of the bike to put it back on you. “I think this date is going really well, how about you?” He asks. “So I don’t know why I wouldn’t want to see you again.”
"If I tell you that I'm having a great night but trying not to set my expectations too high, do I get to see that cute pout again?" The fact that he sets the helmet on you and buckles it in place so he knows you're safe is about the cutest thing ever.
Just to get you to grin again, he does the pout again. Holding it for a few seconds before he shakes his head in disappointment. “And here I was thinking that you should set the expectations sky high.” He rumbles dramatically.
'My hopes are sky high," you assure him, feeling daring enough to reach out and touch his arm again even if it's only briefly. "But I know this is a big step for you, so I didn't want you to feel pressured."
“I don’t.” He promises, reaching up and chucking your chin softly before he glances down at your lips. “Not at all. Although there’s some pressure, it’s not something you have to worry about unless you want to.”
"What do you mean?" Tilting your head to one side, you don't miss the way he glances down at your lips, though the innuendo goes straight over your head.
He chuckles quietly and lets go of your chin. “I’ll let you figure that one out for yourself.” He teases, turning back and grabbing his own helmet. “Let me know when you got it worked out.”
"Well that's not fair." It's your turn to pout now, just as playfully. "I have no talent for double meanings, if my roommate is to be believed."
“Really?” He turns back around and smirks at you. “If you don’t figure it out by the time I drop you off at your place, I’ll let you in on the pressure.”
"You're enjoying this too much." But it's amusing rather than anything else, and you nudge him playfully.
“Maybe a little.” He chuckles as he climbs back on the bike and motions you over. “Climb back on, sweetheart.”
If teasing you is what keeps that smile on his face then you are all for it. You just shake your head to make him laugh again and swing your leg back over the back of his bike. Your arms slide easily around his waist this time with no hesitation in the thing, and you giggle all over again when the engine roars to life.
“Want to go a little faster this time?” Marcus yells over his shoulder.
"Go for it!" There's no question you'll be safe with him, and the adrenaline from the ride is definitely worth it, so you just hold on a little tighter.
“Hang on!” Marcus laughs as he kicks the peg up and twists the throttle of the bike hard enough to lurch you out of the parking spot and make you squeal in surprise.
Back on the highway Marcus picks up the pace, moving you through traffic with expert handling and a fearlessness that goes straight past anything worrying and directly to being such a damn turn on.
This time there’s less talking, more wind buffering around you. Marcus loves the feeling of it, having spent plenty of time wishing he had the skill of flying like Miracle Guy, but this is a close second. He grins as you squeeze him tight and he lets go of one handlebar to cover your hands with his own as he carries you further up the coast.
The colors of sunset are just starting to appear on the horizon when Marcus points out a sign for an ice cream stand up ahead. His hand has been warm on yours whenever it's been safe for him to have it there, and you could swear that the warmth radiating off of him in waves has changed somehow. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.
Throttling down, he pulls into the parking lot of the ice cream stand, happy that it seems moderately busy on this beautiful night. Even better, there’s benches facing the ocean to sit and eat. “Now are you a sundae kind of girl or a cone?” He asks playfully.
"Yes to both," you laugh honestly. You both take off your helmets and pop off the bike to stretch your legs, but stick close to each other while other people bustle around having fun. "But tonight feels like a cone night. Much easier for sitting and watching the water with."
“I agree.” Marcus can’t help but touch you again, keeping his hand on your back again. “Figure once we finish up here, we’ll turn around and start heading back to L.A. Don’t want you too sore from riding too long.”
"Sure. We got a perfect night for a few more hours of driving." Though you have no desire to see the night end, you're not trying to monopolize every second of his time. Or at least you wouldn't admit to wanting it. For now you just keep close and lean into his side a little as you stroll toward the stand overlooking the water.
“It’s also a good reason to stop at these stands.” He looks over at you and smirks. “If you aren’t used to it, it’s a real workout on your hips and thighs.”
"Some things are worth being sore for." It's amazing the way you miss even your own innuendo, but there it is. The words don't even register a second meaning on their way out of your mouth.
Marcus waits a beat for you to smirk, but you don’t. Giving credence to your claim that you don’t get secondary meanings. “Yep.” He chuckles. “Let’s figure out what ice cream we want.”
"I'm going to guess...pistachio for you." You glance up at him when you get into line and raise an eyebrow. "Or Rocky Road? Something classic."
“Actually…” Marcus smiles as he glances at the list of flavors. “I was thinking the sinful Caramel truffle swirl.” He admits.
"Ooh, we're going for something fancy tonight." It might be the mood or the sunset, but he is just remarkably handsome tonight. "Sounds tasty."
“You always go fancy with ice cream.” Marcus laughs. “Or red velvet, peanut butter cup mashup?”
"Red velvet and caramel swirl mash up?" Suddenly it's a game, playing with pairings, and his hand on your back has slipped to your waist making you feel giddy like you're still flying on that bike with him.
“Orrrr the banana flavored ice cream with peanut butter, chocolate chips and caramel swirl?” He asks, nearly drooling at the combinations they offer.
"The Elvis. Always a classic." All it's missing is bacon, and you would absolutely use that as a sundae topping. "I say we pick two and swap halfway through. Best of both worlds."
Marcus grins slowly and nods. “Sounds like a plan to me.” His fingers tighten on your waist slightly as you both turn back towards the window and step up to order. “Ladies first.” He murmurs to you.
You end up ordering coffee cookies and cream and Marcus gets the Elvis-inspired concoction that had him drooling, and within minutes you’re scouting for a place to sit in the small army of benches overlooking the water. The pinks, purples, and orange in the sky are a watercolor collage of the perfect sunset, and the smattering of other couples who also chose to stop here on their dates have given the place a more romantic feel than a little seaside ice cream stand probably ever would ever have on its own.
“Sooooo.” Marcus guides you over to the benches, the girl behind the window assuring them that they will bring the ice cream to you. “How is the view?” He asks, sitting down besides you and offering his hand. If you want to take it, you have the option.
“I think it might be my new favorite.” In fact, you’re so busy admiring his profile against the colorful sky that you almost miss his proffered hand. Almost. But you slip your hand into his larger one with a shy smile, relishing the simple intimacy.
Marcus isn’t looking at the sunset. Instead his eyes are on you. “Mine too.” He promises, curling his fingers around yours protectively.
“Yeah?” You’re both the same kind of sappy, it seems, and the smile on your face widens immeasurably. Your cheeks are going to ache from it tomorrow but you couldn’t care less. “I’m glad to hear it.”
He grins but doesn’t say anything else, just letting both of you settle back and watch the light play over the water. His hand doesn’t leave yours and he sighs softly. “The view of the water is nice too.”
A laugh - small and breathy - cracks your dreamy expression and you manage to thank the teenage girl who brings over your ice cream when she arrives a moment later. “Yes,” you grin at him, nearly giggling. “The water is nice, too.”
The first bite of the creamy, sweet ice cream makes Marcus moan, rolling his eyes back. “Holy shit.” He groans, taking another lick of the confection. “I know we’re trading but you have to try this now.” Having the perfect dessert almost makes up for having to let go of your hand. Almost.
“That good?” You ask, and he nods when he holds it out to you. It’s messier than you're proud of, that first taste, but you groan right along with him and let your eyes float shut happily. “Holy shit, it is that good.”
“Right?” He’s practically giddy as he takes another bite of it happily. “This is definitely a place to come back to again one night.”
“Absolutely.” The first bite of your own cone is just as good, and you moan again happily. “If it’s all this good then we’ll have to come back with Missy.”
“Missy will insist on it.” Marcus chuckles. “That girl has never met an ice cream flavor she didn’t love. She even eats mint chocolate chip.” He makes a face and grins at you.
“Mint chocolate chip is delicious!” You protest immediately, making him just grimace even more dramatically. “Fine, more for me and Missy, then. You’re the one missing out.”
“I will happily miss out.” He promises you. “I don’t care for the taste of toothpaste with my chocolate.”
“How about coffee and Oreos?” Offering him a first taste of your ice cream is only fair since you’d had one of his, but more than anything you’re just enjoying the easy teasing between you.
“Now you’re speaking my language.” Marcus doesn’t hesitate in sampling the cone you offer him and he groans happily. “God.”
“Right?” You laugh, trying to ignore the way the sounds reverberate through you anytime Marcus groans or moans over delicious food. “We have to come back. Gotta try every flavor.”
“Absolutely. Although with Missy coming, we’ll have to trade the motorcycle for the car.” He doesn’t mind it, and to be honest, he likes that you want to include his daughter.
“I don’t mind.” Spending time with his daughter is more important than how you travel, and honestly you’re not sure you’ll be composed enough for family bonding with how fucking wet riding that bike has made you. “The bike can be for when it’s just us.”
“I like the way you think.” Marcus smirks slightly and takes another bite of his ice cream.
“After all…” When you smirk at him it’s devious. “I don’t think the bike would be considered very ‘Daddy’ of you.”
He snorts, nearly choking on the melted cream of his dessert. “That’s just mean.”
“Me? Mean?” You blink at him innocently, with your eyes as wide as they’ll go. “Never! But tease? Absolutely.”
“So you tease but you don’t get the dirty meanings behind comments?” He laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Interesting.”
“I guess I just…never expect anyone to make dirty comments to me?” It feels like an excuse, or something silly, and you shrug your shoulders. “So it never occurs to me.”
“Why?” That seems impossible to him. You’re beautiful, kind, smart and funny. “While I don’t subscribe to catcalling women all the time, there’s got to be times where people come onto you.”
“Maybe.” Another shrug and you feel yourself looking away, like you ought to be embarrassed for missing out on something. “But I never notice unless it’s extremely obvious. Like the day you asked me to have lunch with you the first time? You flat out asked me.”
“I don’t mind having to be blunt.” Marcus leans in and nudges your shoulder slightly. “I’ll keep it in mind when I want you to know I’m flirting with you.”
“I’ll learn,” you promise, knowing the whole thing sounds silly to any ‘normal’ person. “Learning how you flirt is easier than learning how everybody in the world flirts.”
“This is very true.” Marcus is halfway down with his cone so he dutifully holds it out for you to take.
“Trade time.” You offer him your cone in exchange, glad that something so simple can be enjoyable for both of you. After everything you’ve been through over the last few years, you really have realized that it’s the little things that mean the most to you. Something as simple as sharing food makes everything much more intimate.
“We might have to get a couple of pints to take home next time.” Marcus suggests. “Bring a cooler.”
“We can make homemade ice cream sandwiches.” The thoughts roll on - of spending more time with him, getting to know Missy - the daydreams you have only started to allow yourself this week as you waited eagerly tonight.
“Ohhhh make some cookies for the sandwiches.” Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the idea.
“Exactly.” His enthusiastic reaction makes you grin, hoping that some of these little dreams might come true sooner rather than later. Tonight has really been perfect, and you don’t want it to end even if all you do is sit here in the after-dusk and watch the water together.
“So…anything else you want to do?” He asks softly. “We don’t have to end the date after we get back to L.A.”
“Honestly? We could probably do anything and I’d enjoy it.” Simple, maybe, but you prefer to think of it as being easy going. And you’ve never not enjoyed time with this man. “Maybe we could just…curl up? Watch a movie or something? Unless that sounds boring to you.”
“We could do that.” Marcus offers after thinking about it for a second. “Do you want to do this at your place or mine?” Just because you were picked up from a date at your apartment doesn’t mean you want him to come back to it. He frantically tries to remember if he did the dishes this morning.
“It’s probably easier if you come back to mine, I think.” Not that the very idea of it doesn’t have you shaking a little with anticipation. “That way you don’t have to drive the round trip between our places just to drop me off.”
“If that’s what you want.” Marcus chuckles quietly and decides to be honest. “I was just panicking and praying I had cleaned up from breakfast this morning.”
“There’s no reason to worry about that.” You shake your head, pausing for a second to lick away a drop of ice cream before it can skate down your hand. “A pristine house always confuses me. It’s supposed to be where you live, and life is messy.”
“Life is messy but I don’t think day old dishes are the way to express it.” Marcus chuckles. “I always think of shoes by the door, backpacks slung over the stair banister, throws and pillows messy on the couch.” He shrugs. “Basically how my house looks.”
“If you would be more comfortable at your house, I don’t mind.” For you, this is all about making him as at ease as possible, because you know that no matter what you’ll enjoy yourself. “I can take an Uber home?” Or spend the night, but you won’t say that part out loud.
He chuckles quietly. “I was wanting you to be comfortable.” He pouts slightly, playfully, at you.
“Too considerate for our own good.” You have to laugh a little, realizing that you’re both dancing around each other. “Why don’t we go to your house, then?” An Uber ride now will give you time to think, and to maybe not do something impulsive like ask him to stay.
Marcus nods. “That sounds good. We’ll have the house to ourselves and not have to worry about bothering the neighbors.” He murmurs, knowing you probably won’t get his meaning.
“Sounds good.” The smile you give him is admittedly a little dreamy, but that’s okay. A first date should be dreamy if it’s any good. Now that it’s officially dark out, the night seems to have taken on an extra layer of comfort that you hadn’t expected. Or maybe it’s just that you’re leaning into his side on the bench.
Marcus quickly devours the cone, but he offers you the very tip of the cone - the best part in his opinion. “Here, sweetheart.” He leans up and holds it up to your lips. “The sweetest bite.”
There’s something very intimate about it but you don’t shy away, accepting the gift by nipping it right out of his fingers with your teeth but still accidentally grazing his fingers with your lips in the process. He’s right about it, though, and you hum happily when you offer him the same last bite of the cone you had been holding.
It should be obvious how Marcus is feeling from the way his breath catches when you graze his fingers, but he doesn’t know. So he makes it obvious. He wraps his lips around your fingers and sucks lightly.
As gentle as he is when he does it, it sucks the air straight out of your lungs to make you gasp. There's no possible way to miss the deliberate way his tongue flicks at your fingertips instead of focusing on the nub of the ice cream cone that you had been offering, and although he does come away with the treat in his mouth that's not at all what you're focused on now. You stare for a second before you can compose yourself again, and instead of being gobsmacked you immediately feel your whole face burning.
"Delicious." He hums, smirking at you slightly as he licks his lips before he starts to lick his fingers clean of any melted ice cream that dripped down. "Are you ready to go back?" He asks, watching you carefully as he sucks his thumb clean.
The reply gets stuck in your throat at first but you nod, eventually managing to stammer out a "Yes" and flustering, because what you want to do is drag him in for a kiss but that seems awfully forward. Or maybe it isn't at this point and you're just paranoid - who knows.
Marcus chuckles quietly, suddenly more confident on this date than he had been up to this point. His knuckles brush across your cheek and there’s still just a touch of light over the ocean to make the scene romantic with the string of lights around to give it a nice glow. “I’m going to kiss you, unless you say no.” He warns softly, making his intentions known and giving you a chance to pull away as he leans in.
“Why the hell would I do that?” It gives you just a second to appreciate his knack for crystal clear communication, which means the world to you, but you’re also not trying to open a dialogue. You lean in as easily as breathing, finding his lips a half seconds faster than he anticipated, and let your eyes flutter closed at that first touch. It feels so natural, like everything else tonight, and you reach one hand up to cup his cheek while the moment lingers between you beautifully.
Marcus sighs into the soft kiss. It’s gentle, promising. A first kiss that sweet dreams are made of and he’s careful to not take it any deeper. If you want to kiss him again, he can expand then. After a moment, or many an hour, he pulls away with a smile. “Ready, beautiful?”
“Absolutely.” As soft and sweet as it is, your whole self is buzzing with it and you run your thumb along his jaw as you nod. “Ready, handsome.”
The two of you stand up and there’s a natural way that you seem to drift towards each other. His hand sliding around your waist and he hums softly. “Are you warm enough in that jacket for the ride home?” He asks, knowing that it will get cooler now that the sun is down.
“I’ll be okay.” He must not know that he radiates heat. It comes off him in waves and you’ve wondered more than once how he could possibly survive wearing sweaters like he does in Southern California weather while being so warm. Maybe it’s just an aura he gives off. “If I’m chilly when we get to your house we’ll just have to curl up under a blanket.”
Marcus groans slightly, barely refraining from making another dirty comment, but his fingers flex slightly on your hip. “Whatever you want.” He promises.
“Did I say something?” You’re starting to pick up on things. On his cues that could be considered unusual. At least, he never groaned around you before.
“Yeah.” He knows you didn’t mean it sexually. “I was just thinking of all the ways I could be under a blanket with you, sweetheart.” He admits as the two of you stop in front of his bike again. “It’s adding to that pressure I was talking about.”
With two pieces of the puzzle, it's like something clicks into place in your mind and you suck in another breath, clamping your mouth shut to keep from openly giggling. "Oh." You duck your head and push into his space a little, just to press a kiss to his cheek. "I wouldn't... wouldn't mind not making it through the movie," you admit quietly.
He chuckles quietly and reaches for the helmet for you. “That’s up to you.” He promises quietly. “Completely up to you.”
The ride back to LA is easy. The giddiness in your blood is different than it was when you left the city but no less exciting - just a new kind of anticipation. The idea that he does actually want you as much as you want him is exhilarating, making you hyper aware of the way you have to cling to him as he guides you through traffic. The strength of him despite how he might look soft to the outside observer. The breadth of his back and shoulders giving you a place to rest your head as your drive that only makes you wonder if the breadth of his chest would be even more comforting.
There is a slight urgency to getting back this time. He’s not speeding too badly but it’s not the leisurely drive it had been on the way out. Not with the fact that your hand has slipped under his jacket and resting on his stomach, warm and heavy.
His house is picturesque from the outside: the pinnacle of upper-middle class southern California comfort. A gate and security box outside let you in to see the well kept front yard and around the side of the house where the pool is beckoning with welcome. It looks tidy but not fussy, which is just like him. "Home sweet home?" You hum when he cuts the engine in his driveway.
“Home sweet home.” Marcus offers, letting you swing yourself off the back of the bike before he lets down the kickstand and dismounts himself. “Hopefully you like it.”
"I can't think of any reason why I wouldn't." As reluctant as you are to pull away, you take off the helmet you had been wearing and hand it off to him to secure. The night has barely gotten a chill but the ride definitely created a breeze, and you smile when you take his offered hand. "Do you want to give me the grand tour?"
“Of course.” He practically beams at how you smile at him. It’s the type of smile that makes him feel like a warm blanket has settled over him. “Missy has managed to make this hang out central in the summertime when she’s here. The kids like to come swim.”
“I would too, if I were them. Any place with a pool is the best place to spend free time.” There’s vestiges of teenagers everywhere when he shows you the path to the backyard - pool toys in a large crate and everything brightly colored in every way. It feels lived in and loved.
“Of course. And it’s always asking if I can grill hamburgers or whatever.” He huffs, but his grin gives away how much he enjoys it. “Do you know how many bags of chips teenagers can plow through?”
“It’s gonna be even more if I start coming over.” You flash him a grin that says you’re one hundred percent ready to suck up to his daughter to make sure she likes you. “Dips and desserts are kind of my thing.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Do you mean to bring them or I’ll have to buy more?” He teases with a wink.
“Oh no, I’ll make them.” You promise, laughing right with him. “Nothing says pool party and burgers like fresh salsa and guac.”
“You make homemade guacamole and my daughter would be your best friend.” Marcus laughs. “She eats it all by herself.”
“Befriending Missy is very high on my list of priorities.” That’s something that shouldn’t be a secret from him - that you value him enough to make his daughter a priority. Tonight has been amazing and might still continue to get better, and it’s important that he knows how seriously you take this.
“The key to her heart is avocados and green chili sauce.” He confides, whispering playfully. “If you can make green chili enchiladas, she might ask you to move in.”
Your other hand moves around his waist when he pulls you into his side and you grin up at him when you hug him. “I really hope you don’t mind having me around then, because it sounds like Missy and I can live off the same foods.”
“If you can cook it, thank God.” Marcus huffs. “Because for some reason mine never turns out right.”
“We’ll have to see what she thinks.” You lean into Marcus with a smile. “I hope they make the cut.”
“If they are halfway decent, it would be a lot better than mine.” He chuckles, leaning into you and sending you an up close wink.
“Wanna show me the inside?” A nod to the house is a small thing, but getting to see his space for the first time is a big deal.
“Of course! Yes, of course.” He huffs at himself and shakes his head. “Come inside, please.”
The house is lived in. Cozy and as tidy as it can be while being inhabited by a single dad and his teenage daughter. No cleaning lady has been through here, no private chef has seen the inside of this kitchen or painstakingly set this table. It hasn’t been touched by an interior decorator or a stylist. It’s just their home, and you like it all the better for that.
“So this is it.” He’s never been a showy person, motioning to the living room and open kitchen. “It’s home and to be honest, probably could use a hell of a dusting.” He admits, blushing slightly.
“It’s just like you.” The words come with a soft, lopsided smile. “Comfortable, welcoming. Like you don’t want to leave once you’ve been let inside.”
Marcus smiles slowly and nods. “Well it’s a good thing that you only leave when you want to.”
It’s a chance to take, but you’re willing to go out on a limb right now. With his fingers still threaded through yours it’s easy to turn into him and tip your head back. It’s just a small moment, or at least it starts that way, but you place a kiss to the corner of his mouth in what is - for you - a very daring move. “That is a good thing,” you murmur, hoping that wasn’t too forward after he kissed you earlier in the evening.
It warms him, making him snake his free hand around your waist and pull you closer. “Hmmmm.” He hums quietly and shakes his head. “We can do better than that, sweetheart.” He promises before he leans in to kiss you again.
It’s firmer this time, more wanting, and you sigh into it with a freedom and enthusiasm that is only encouraged by how close he’s holding you.
Marcus feels the tension building, loves how naturally this is progressing and he tilts his head slightly so he can run his tongue along the seam of your lips.
You shiver a little and sigh, opening up for him and gliding your tongue along his for that first taste of exploring something deeper. While his hand tightens at your waist, yours slide up his shoulders easily, pulling the two of you together like magnets. You opening up for him is like opening the floodgates for Marcus. The needs that have been building for him spill out, making him become more assertive. Guiding you towards a counter while groaning into your mouth, he presses against your body, his own hard and throbbing for you.
Permission has been given here - permission to act and permission to want in a way that you can’t remember even scratching the surface of with anyone before him. Of course there were others before him, you’re not that innocent, but it’s been a long time and something about the way Marcus is mapping the inside of your mouth so carefully and methodically feels momentous. You moan for him, softly at first but it quickly becomes needy, and tangle your fingers in his clothes like a desperate, silent plea to have them out of the way.
“Baby.” Marcus pants as he pulls away, sucking in the air he had been deprived of while he was kissing you. His lips trail down your jaw. “You need- let me know- if- if we need to stop.” He manages.
“Could say the s-same to you —” It’s not as though you haven’t dreamt of this. Gotten yourself off to the thought of this. Tried to imagine if he would be rough and needy from desperation or soft and gentle out of caution and affection. Now that you might be a hair’s breadth away from finding out you don’t ever want to stop.
“Fuuuuuuuck.” Marcus lets out a breathless chuckle against your pulse. “Baby I want to show you my bedroom.” He murmurs desperately. His cock twitches against your stomach.
“Please.” There’s nothing more straight forward than that, and you nod almost frantically.
“Okay.” He pulls away from you and takes your hand. “Let’s go upstairs.” He offers, giving you a moment to breathe.
If you were in a more eloquent mood you might have thought it was like being led through a palace by your very own Prince Charming, but as it stands the only thing you can really focus on is the heat radiating off of him and the urgency with which you’re both climbing the stairs. You barely make it to the landing before you’re glued to each other again, blindly grasping along the hallway as you moan into another kiss.
It has been a long time since Marcus was in such a hurry to ferry someone into his bedroom. Yet his hands grip every part of you that he can reach and he is pushing off your jacket right there in front of the stairs so he can touch more of you. Drunk off the soft sounds you pour into his mouth.
One by one the pieces of clothing start to drop - your purse, both jackets, his shirt - with an urgency that you hadn't known you had until his hands were spanning your whole hips with one great grasp and his teeth found exactly how sensitive the tender skin of your neck is. "Marcus–" His name is a prayer before it becomes a chant and your own hands map the expanse of his chest as you tumble through a doorway that you desperately hope leads to his bedroom.
“Gonna make this good baby.” It’s a desperate promise to his ears, especially as long as he’s been without intimacy. Unless you count him jerking off this morning in a desperate attempt to not attack you. Though that point seems to be moot.
"So good." How could you doubt that about him? Well...you don't, honestly, but you understand that as long as it's been for you it's been much longer for him. And to have a little reassurance might go a very long way tonight. "So fucking good."
“Let me know if I do something that you don’t like.” Marcus orders you softly, smirking at you because he doesn’t think that it will be likely. “It has been a long time since I’ve been able to go down on someone.”
“Fuck, Marcus.” Having had no expectation for tonight, that bowls you over like a ton of bricks and you look up at him with lust blown eyes. “There is nothing I don’t like about that.”
He chuckles, the deep, raspy sound of arousal and anticipation. “You don’t know, I could be a biter.” He teases, knowing that he will put his teeth marks on you in a few different places.
"How do you know I wouldn't like that?" You tease back, enjoying that every single second doesn't have to be fully loaded and serious. Being able to laugh with your lover is something you need.
Marcus snaps his teeth at you playfully at winks. “Only one way to find out.”
Giggling in response, you happily draw him in for another kiss before stepping back toward his bed. One pull brings your dress up over your head, and you just have to thank your lucky stars that you wore a reasonably cute matching underwear set tonight. It's not all the way to lingerie, but it's nicer than your every-day stuff. If you had anticipated this at all, you would have pulled out the fanciest thing you own.
“Fuck.” The sight of your pretty panties and bra makes his cock twitch in his pants and he’s quickly ridding himself of the t-shirt he had worn. He might be slightly self conscious, it’s been a long time since he was in Heroics shape, but he ignores that as he stares.
"You took the word right out of my mouth." It might be a silly thing, but you can't help staring right back for a moment. The little bit of softness around his middle doesn't diminish his figure one ounce. If anything, you like a bit of softness with all that strength. He looks broader like this - shoulders tapering down to trim hips - and you step backward again. One step closer to his bed.
“Take off your bra.” Marcus orders quietly before he smirks and holds up his hand to stop you. “Better yet…hold still.”
Tilting your head at him, you stop reaching behind you. A second later the hook and eye clasps on your bra open completely untouched. "Did you just--?" Your hand immediately reaches back to touch the clasp, which feels completely normal and unbent, and you pull your bra down your arms with a smirk. "Metal powers. Handy."
“Very handy.” He might look like the cat who got the cream and his eyes only get wider as your breasts are revealed to him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.” He coos, reaching for the button of his jeans. “Do you like your nipples sucked on?” He asks, mouthwatering as he imagines it.
"Mmhmm." For some reason the question paralyzes you, like that is somehow what has made tonight completely real. "I-- y-yes, god yes."
“Then I’m going to suck on them.” Marcus groans like you’ve given him a gift. “I’m going to suck on them while my fingers stretch open your little pussy before I lick it.”
"Fuck." One more step back and your calves bump against his bed frame, almost making you lose your balance because you weren't expecting to find the all-important piece of furniture so easily. "Do it, Marcus. Touch me, please."
His jeans are pushed down, his boxers tented with a large wet spot from where he is leaking. “Lay down.” Marcus practically growls out the order, eager to see you spread out in his bed.
All in one not-too-smooth motion, you shift back onto his bed and slip out of your panties, wanting to just bypass any other awkwardness by laying yourself bare for him. Everything Marcus wants at this moment, you are more than happy to give him.
He had wanted to strip off your panties, but it’s completely okay if you are bare. Giving him the perfect unobstructed view of your body. He hisses through his teeth and rushes to strip off his boxers. “Jesus baby, look at you.”
"Too busy looking at you." His cock is thick, and longer than you've had before, sending a delicious shiver down your spine as you take in the sight of him prowling toward you. Two steps and he's leaning on the bed, making the mattress dip to hold his weight and bringing the heat of his proximity back to you. "Fucking gorgeous."
“Yes you are.” Marcus hovers over you, watching you squirm underneath him as he takes in the view. “Let me kiss you again, sweetheart.”
"Gladly." You would drown in him right now if you could - kissing him is the least of it. The weight and breadth of him on top of you makes you feel almost dainty as you breathe him in, and just a touch of warm wetness on the inside of your thigh tells you he is just as excited by the turn tonight has taken as you are.
The kiss is hot, frantic and Marcus is lowering himself onto you before he even realizes it. Needing to get closer. “Fuck.”
It feels like your hands are everywhere at once, trying to map the length and breadth of him while you memorize his taste. With no hesitations between you, the instinct to reach down and wrap your hand around his length is easy to give in to.
You would think that he’s been surprised, maybe even hurt from the way that Marcus sucks in a loud breath. But there’s no mistaking the way his hips jerk forward when your hand surrounds his cock and squeezes gently. It’s the sweetest kind of torture and he feels the burst of pearly liquid build up on the tip naturally. “Shit.” The ragged groan is followed by his mouth starting to blaze a wet trail across your chest in search of your nipple.
Your own gasp nearly matches when he finds it, drawing a moan from you and arching your back off the bed and letting your eyes flutter shut just for a second before you peel them open again to watch him. Ravenous isn’t usually a word you would use to describe Marcus but right now he is a man starved and the first step to satiating him is found at your tits.
There had been a few times where he had worried he wouldn’t be able to do this again. That he would be too nervous or just unsure of the new partner. But you have stripped all of those insecurities away and left him with nothing but heavy desire.
The sounds surrounding you like a halo turn filthy quickly. Groans muffled by skin, vocal moans, the sloppy sounds of Marcus lapping at your chest more and more desperately every time your hand moves on his cock.
“Fuck.” His groan is muffled around your nipple. His hands blaze a trail over your skin, groping and squeezing every piece of flesh he could. “So good.”
“Marcus—” You whimper when he moves across your chest, latching onto your neglected nipple with eager determination. “Fuck baby — need you to touch me. Please.”
Once you beg him, Marcus can’t deny you anything. His fingers slide down to slide through your folds and press against your clit as he switches over to the other breast. Your hand around his stills when he presses his fingers into you, totally absorbed in the feeling of being split open on two of his thick fingers as his thumb rubs circles over your clit. It has your chest heaving and body aching all at once, desperate to get as close to him as possible. To draw him into you and get him as addicted to the feel of you surrounding him as you already are to him surrounding you.
“So sweet.” Marcus pulls off your tit and groans when he feels how fucking tight you are as he pumps his fingers into your body. “Fuck, that what you need? That good? You need me to curl them?” He wants to know how to make you cum, wants to hear those breathless cries.
"C-curl, fuck, please--" It's impossible to form a complete thought with his fingers moving inside of you so gorgeously, but you nod and hope he can understand the broken sentence for what it is. "So good."
He hears you, his teeth nipping the side of your breast as he curls his fingers up and presses them deeper.
You keen in response, crying his name and grasping his shoulders as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight cunt, curling them perfectly against that gorgeous spongy spot inside of you and making you see stars. "Just-- fuck -- like that, oh my god."
Marcus groans, breathing against your skin and closing his eyes at the sound of your moan. “Good girl.” He coos breathlessly. “Oh fuck, good girl.” His cock pulses against your hip but he wants to make this good for you. Knowing that he won’t last too long in bed this time.
It's all too overwhelming and so good in all the ways that you've missed being touched, and Marcus's rhythm doesn't falter as he pushes you right to the edge. Barely gasping out a warning before your whole body seems to lock down under him, his name is on your lips when you fall apart for him the first time.
Marcus shudders, feeling the liquid heat rush over his fingers. Making him moan your name quietly as he keeps pumping his fingers up into to keep the pressure against that spongy spot and draw it out for you while he kisses along your jaw and murmurs small words of encouragement in your ear. “Good girl, so fucking good. Ride it out for me, baby.”
"Goddamn." When you feel like you can breathe again, you turn your head to capture his lips in a sloppy, eager kiss. "So fucking good, baby."
He chuckles quietly, soaking up your praise and slowly pulling his fingers out of you along with a whine when he does. “Good.” He pants. “You want–” He pulls back and looks into your eyes. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks.
"Fuck yes." There's no hesitation for you. Months of dreaming - and daydreaming - about this makes you nothing but pliant and needy. "I-I'm safe," you manage to pant out between kisses. "IUD, I mean."
He groans the idea of feeling you bare and having you full of his cum. “Good. I’m safe too.” He promises, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Been a long time and I’ve had a clean bill of health.”
"It's been a while for me, too." There's no reason for him to be self-conscious about that, and you brush the damp curls of hair out of his face to press a kiss to his forehead. "Doesn't matter," you smile softly. "Just matters that it's you."
That more than anything, makes him relax. Marcus kisses you, forgetting that he had promised to use his tongue on you as he shifts and covers your body with his. “So fucking beautiful.” He groans.
"All for you, baby," you promise him, knowing that nothing in the damn universe could pull you out of this man's bed now that you're here.
He doesn’t rush. Instead, settling between your thighs is a slow affair. He’s not some teenager that needs to be inside you, although the ache has built up to almost painful. Instead he kisses you as his hand slides between your bodies so he can position himself at your core and his eyes watch yours as he slowly starts to sheath himself in your welcoming body.
You feel like you're holding your breath as he presses into you, filling you up inch by gorgeous inch, but it's the low moan reverberating in your chest and the thick cock slowly splitting you open that gives you the feeling of breathlessness. Marcus isn't in a hurry and neither are you. With your foreheads pressed together and sounds of pleasure coming from both of you, the room around you has dissolved and narrowed your reality down to just him.
“Holy shit.” Marcus’s arms are trembling by the time he is buried to the hilt and he swears that he can’t breathe. The sexy and playful moment turns serious and he can’t do anything more than to press his lips tenderly to yours again while he tries to give you time to adjust before he moves.
He pulls back, rolling his hips away from you as slowly as he had punished them forward, and you gasp into his kiss when he drives into you again - slightly faster but not with anything approaching speed. A languid pace gives you both time to find a rhythm together and your lips only leave his to kiss and nip along his jaw line while he moans in your ear.
He closes his eyes as he languidly rocks into you. Keeping the pace steady. “When you’re ready, let me know.” He murmurs slowly, feeling the exquisite pleasure of your walls squeezing him. “I want to hear you scream my name tonight.”
"More, baby." He knows damn well that you're not above begging, and your tone is borderline pleading even without needing to be. All you know is that you want to be completely overwhelmed by him. "Fuck, I-- please, Marcus, want you so bad."
“W-wrap your legs around me.” Marcus groans out, pushing to his elbows and grins at you. “And hang on.”
Curiosity has you following his instruction as much as anything else, and you shift under him just enough to have your ankles meet at the small of his back. Your hands grasping at his arms and shoulders will have to be enough to ‘hang on’ like you’ve been told.
He hums, pleased by your willingness to comply and he grins at you, devilish as he winks. “Now tell me if I need to slow down.” He says before he withdraws again and snaps his hips forward.
“Fuck!” Slow and steady is apparently not Marcus’s preferred pace, as he begins to pound into you with stamina that could only come from a Heroic. If his goal is really to have you screaming his name, you have a feeling it won’t take very long at all.
Grunting, Marcus reaches up to grab the headboard so it doesn’t beat against the wall. Forgetting that he had removed the spacers so it didn’t the last time he had rearranged the room. There hadn’t been any need for them for a long time. Now he just moans as your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as he keeps hammering into you.
The little crescent moon marks your nails are sure to leave behind don't seem to phase him in the least. Every thrust feels like he's splitting you open for the first time all over again, spearing into you until your head is thrown back on his pillows and you have one hand braced again the headboard so you don't hit your head with the way he's fucking you into the mattress.
“J-Jesus.” He hisses. “K-know how many times I-I imagined this?” He demands, pushing the air out of your lungs with every harsh roll of his hips. “Nearly every f-fucking day.”
"Me -- oh fuck -- too." It's as much as you can do to string a few words together right now and you keen when he drives into you again.
Every time his cock hits the spongy walls of your cunt, you moan for him. Making him ramp up his pace to near frantic and all he can do is pant out your name between breaths.
It hits you like a freight train when that second orgasm comes, without any chance to give him warning or do anything except cry his name into the night, the sound reverberating off the walls with the wet slap on skin on skin as Marcus fucks you through your peak with your cunt clenching down on him like a velvet fist.
“F-fuck, good girl.” Marcus moans, closing his eyes and thanking the Gods that he managed to last long enough for you to be able to cum. “Shit, baby.” He covers your mouth once more for a desperate kiss as he rocks into you half a dozen more times before he plunges deep and pulses inside you, the liquid heat of his pleasure filling you up.
He swallows your moans as he empties himself inside you, and when both of you breathe again it's with brilliant smiles on your faces even though all eyes stay closed for a long moment afterward. When you do open your eyes, you press soft kisses along his jaw and cheeks, finally dusting a few on his lips. "Holy shit," you giggle quietly, chest still heaving as you pant.
His quiet laugh matches yours in breathlessness and he nods. “What you said.” He huffs, deciding the thing to do would be to collapse against you and tuck his head into your neck to snuggle and breathe you on.
You wrap your arms around him, legs going slack as you both just sink down into his mattress together as one. "Hell of a first date," you chuckle, kissing his shoulder where you've left marks behind.
“Mmmhmm.” His smirk is pleased and tired against your neck. “When I can move again, I’ll run you a bath and get us some water.” He murmurs.
"If we don't both fall asleep first." It wouldn't bother you for a second if that's what happened. Passing out after sex with Marcus still inside you is high on the fantasy list.
“How do you know what I’m trying not to do?” Marcus grumbles playfully at you, kissing your pulse softly.
"Cause it's what I'm trying not to do," you giggle against his skin. "That's a hell of a workout."
“Yes it was.” His softening cock twitches inside you and he giggles slightly, feeling euphoric. “I’m very glad you aren’t my student anymore.”
______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 
My Masterlist!
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writeforfandoms · 7 months
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"i think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me" + kisses under mistletoe + Simon Riley x reader
(I combined two prompts from the same kisses list, hopefully that’s okay! Congrats on 2k followers, you absolutely deserve it 💖💖 Your writing is so goddamn fantastic and I am so delighted for you 💖💖💖💖)
Ooooh good picks!! I like these. Let's see where this goes...
Warnings: alcohol and teasing. And fluff.
--
You weren't entirely sure how you got here, but you were sure it was Soap's fault. Somehow.
You huffed softly, holding your drink a little tighter. The holiday party was a long-standing tradition, but one that you usually wiggled out of with various excuses. Ghost usually got out of it too.
But not this time. This time, Price had forced you both into going. Something about spreading the holiday suffering.
Sometimes you greatly disliked your captain.
Which is how you found yourself trying to hide against a wall. Except Soap would not stop pestering you for a dance and making comments about how bonnie you looked in a dress. Thus, you were inclined to blame anything that happened on him.
"You look like you ate a live goldfish."
You jolted at the familiar voice, looking over at Ghost. He was actually dressed for the occasion, jacket stretched across broad shoulders, black face mask concealing most of his features.
"Surprised Price let you wear that." You motioned to your own face in reference.
"Knew I wouldn't show up without it." Ghost leaned near you, turning his gaze out to the crowd again.
You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "Gonna guess he threatened you with the same terms, then." You folded your arms over your chest, watching the dancers for now. You could spot Soap among them, having given up on you and found someone else to charm.
"Two hours," Ghost grunted, sounding displeased.
"Guess we'd better make the most of it." You snagged champagne from a passing waiter and offered one to him with a teasing little grin. He huffed at you but took it, the glass delicate against his fingers. You looked away first, unreasonably warmed.
The first hour was easy. Avoid small talk, cover each other's backs, glower occasionally at Price or Soap, and drink. The second hour got a little more lively.
"This way," you hissed, taking a quick surreptitious look around before you walked ahead of Simon, leading the way further back. Away from the woman who had apparently made it her goal in life to be as annoying as possible.
That, or she was attempting suicide by Simon. You were a little surprised he hadn't don't anything worse when she put her hand flat against his stomach.
(And you had ignored the burning little curl in your own stomach.)
"Where are you taking me?" But Simon only sounded amused.
"Finding you a spot away from her," you grumbled. "Does she think you're a slab of meat?"
"Yes," came the droll answer from behind you. You flapped a hand at him and rounded a corner into a quiet hallway. Much better.
"This should do," you said, looking around with satisfaction. "We're still technically at the event."
Simon huffed in amusement. A moment later, he was a solid line of heat against your back, hands at your waist. Your pulse sped up and you tipped your head to look back at him.
"Jealous?" He murmured in your ear, the crinkles around his eyes giving away his smirk.
"Of what?" You asked, mentally scrambling. Shit! "Someone who doesn't know how to take a no?"
He tugged you back, closer to him, his touch electrifying even through your clothes. "Not one to share, are you?"
"Dunno what you mean," you murmured, tugging against his hold. But he held firm, not letting you get anywhere.
"Did you know," he purred, low and teasing, in your ear, "that you frown any time someone flirts with me?"
Whoops. You hadn't even noticed. "Must be a coincidence."
"Don't think so." One hand left your waist, and a moment later you felt warm breath on the shell of your ear. You shuddered, eyes sliding closed. "Think it's more than that."
"Oh?" You managed to keep your voice even, though your body betrayed you in ways you knew he'd marked.
Simon hummed softly, the sound rumbling in his chest against your back. "Look there."
You blinked, caught off guard, and looked up. A bunch of mistletoe had been pinned up as decoration here, just above your heads. "Mistletoe?"
He huffed softly, gently turning you until you faced him. Your hands settled on his shoulders, helping you keep your balance. He carried so much on these shoulders. You never failed to admire them.
But the sight of his face was what held your attention, a rare treat. You drank in every detail greedily, from the scars to the bent nose to the circles under his eyes. Because that's what made him Simon.
"I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me," he murmured, cheeky and amused. But not joking.
So you smiled, one hand cupping his cheek delicately. When he tipped his head into your hand, you leaned up with the same consideration and kissed him. Soft, sweet. Gentle. Not things either of you had an abundance of in your lives, but something you wanted to give him more of.
Price would forgive you for not going back to the party.
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violaobanion · 11 months
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MARIE ANTOINETTE + PINK 2006, dir. Sofia Coppola
requested by @springsteens
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targaryen-dynasty · 2 months
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hi bestie💕
from the 2k celebration serving list, i choose meleys! (this feels like i’m choosing a pokemon for a battle 😂)
prompt #112 “i don’t feel like sleeping” with aegon ii
🎉congratulations on reaching 2k!!!!!🎉
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REDAMANCY.
Aegon II Targaryen x female Reader
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WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; slightly dubious content, p in v, breeding kink
WORDS: 741
NOTES: The first time I managed to keep myself short, lmfao. Hope you like it!
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It has to be way past the Hour of the Owl when you feel Aegon’s hands slowly drag over your side, his hot breath caressing the back of your neck. 
Your back is facing him, and you’re lying exactly like you did when you fell asleep – with him tightly pressed against your backside. The only difference now is that you’re feeling something very firm pressing against your arse. 
Stirring slowly, you’re releasing a deep sigh, and goosebumps follow in his hand’s wake as it pushes the skirts of your nightdress further up your legs. Despite the sheets still concealing your frame, you suddenly feel well exposed, and he hasn’t even peeled off your underclothes. 
“Go back to sleep,” you’re murmuring, voice thick with sleep. 
You can feel his nose drag along your hair, inhaling your scent, and it inevitably has you clenching your thighs together, more so when his lips settle at the curve of your shoulder. He has pushed the neckline of your nightgown to the side slightly, and an unbearable heat blossoms where his lips have met your skin before. 
His teasing, barely there touches push all the tiredness aside, and the raspy drawl in his voice ignites a fire within you. 
“I don’t feel like sleeping.”
It’s his body against yours, his scent wafting off of him, and his hand slowly inching between your legs that drive you to full consciousness. Heat starts to ignite at the apex of your legs as your mind wanders from the calmness of your sleep to your insatiable husband. 
You bite your bottom lip, trying to stifle a quiet moan. “But what if I do?”
Your husband is quick to roll you on your back, making himself at home between your legs. The display of his fervor has you chuckling. 
As he’s propped up on his arms, silver strands of hair fall into his face, framing his chiseled features. He stares down at you with a mischievous glint in his lilac eyes, and you know it means he’s up to no good. 
Dipping his head forwards, Aegon’s lips make a beeline for your neck, nibbling and sucking on your skin to the point you crane your neck to grant him more access. You care little for what the court thinks of the little bruises he leaves, and rather take pride in his display of possessiveness, in his claim on you.
“Then I would see it as my husbandly duty to convince you otherwise,” his gruff voice vibrates against your skin, slightly muffled but still perfectly clear. 
“Oh?” you whisper, turning your head to look at him and giggling softly. 
“I’m confident of my ability to convince you,” he rasps, and you’re met with a wide grin, one that all but forces you to kiss him to get it off his face. 
It’s all teeth and tongue when Aegon’s hands slowly claw at your nightgown, pushing it up to make quick work of your underclothes. You help him get you out of it, and only then notice that he’s indeed already completely bare. 
While this isn’t new to you, you still hold your breath as he sheathes himself inside you, meeting little resistance with your cunt completely soaked and filling you with one, swift thrust of his hips.  
You both moan in unison, and the pace your husband sets is quite different from the one he usually picks. Instead of thrusting and thrusting, he is rutting into you, causing the coarse, silver hairs that gather around the base of his cock to rub your pearl with every motion. 
Slinging your legs around his waist, you’re making it no easier for him to change his movements, signaling that this is exactly what you need. 
“Tonight is the night I shall put a babe in you,“ he grunts against your kiss-swollen lips. 
His earlier urgency has seemed to be not more than a mask for his despair, because as your peak washes over you in an ambush, his own follows not long after. 
But only when his hips don't falter, and his movements turn more calculated and determined, biting through the overstimulation, do you know that a long, exhausting night lies ahead of you. 
One where he won‘t stop until his hunger is satiated by filling you with as much of his seed as possible to make sure it will bear fruit, to make sure you‘ll give him the heir they‘ll anticipate sooner than later. 
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Small Taglist: @heimtathurs @valeskafics @black-dread @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @hypocritic-trash-baby @connorsui @moonlightfoxx @snowystark @fan-goddess @lovelykhaleesiii
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dailysteveharrington · 11 months
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DAILYSTEVEHARRINGTON 2K CELEBRATION✵ top steve episodes as voted by our followers
↳ #5 → The Gate (S02E09) (30 votes)
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ilguna · 1 year
Note
can u do 6, 7, 66 list 2, carl grimes !! i don’t have a specific scenario though 😭 <3
spider web (Carl Grimes)
warnings; swearing, gun mention, arachnophobia.
wc; 3.7k
prompt; 6. "Kiss me and/or shut up." 7. "Where does it hurt?" 66. "Why are you always so dramatic?"
notes; set in a non-specific time after season 5, no major spoilers besides what happens at the prison.
The moment you stepped foot inside of Alexandria, you had a feeling that you’d be suffocated and controlled. It was the way that Aaron talked to you, like you were some misfortune teenager that ended up with Rick’s group, instead of deciding to stay. You have no blood-relation to anybody here, apparently that makes you irresponsible.
What really did it was when tried to make you hand over your gun, telling you that you’ll see it again. You’d just have to check it out from Olivia first on your way out of the walls. You couldn’t agree to it.
You’re not entirely sure why Rick and the rest of the group did. It could’ve been the desperation of wanting a safe place to lay their head, and Aaron and a few of the others had done an awful lot of convincing. However, none of you actually knew how safe it would be just yet, and you couldn’t trust them, not after what happened at Terminus.
So, you refused to bend to their rules until you knew that you could trust them. You didn’t care about what Rick or Carol felt, it was up to you. Olivia wasn’t happy about it, she told you that if you didn’t hand over your gun, then you’d be required to leave. Without another word, you’d pulled your bag onto your shoulders, tilting your head in the direction of the gate, asking if they’d escort you.
Aaron had to step in, backtracking. You were temporarily allowed to keep your gun on you until you were interviewed by Deanna. The entire time you sat outside with them on the porch, waiting your turn, was filled with Carl begging you not to do this. He didn’t want you to leave the group over a little disagreement.
They understood why you felt the way you did, but they reasoned that Terminus had left an impression on all of them. It’s exactly the reason why Rick didn’t believe Aaron about Terminus. Yet, here you all are, because they’re telling the truth so far.
“You don’t get it.” You snapped, turning your body away to face the street instead. Carol placed her hand on your shoulder, and you slapped it away. “And I don’t have to justify myself.”
You couldn’t promise anyone then and there that you wouldn’t leave. Not even Carol, who had been the one to save you the year prior from walkers. When you were alone, waiting for your dad to return from his run. One day turned to a week, and you knew he was dead somewhere, there was no point in waiting anymore. You didn’t know where to go. Carol came through the neighborhood an hour later, and she took you back to the prison.
That’s where you stayed, until the place got attacked by the Governor, and you were forced to leave. You were almost alone again, but Rick and Carl found you on the way, obviously in the middle of a fight. You tried to keep out of it. You knew Carl, you weren’t close enough to get into his familial affairs. He wasn’t as talkative back then.
It wasn’t until Michonne showed up, did he begin to talk to you more. You went from friends to best friends in the span of a week. 
It’s the reason why he begged you to stay in Alexandria and not leave. You’re safe to him, someone he can trust. He couldn’t afford to lose you over the fact that you couldn’t give up your only source of protection. Especially since your dad gave it to you before he left you there alone with the promise that he’d be back.
You had to explain this to Deanna, the entire time feeling her judgment. How could a teenage girl be so attached to something so dangerous? You knew that she wasn’t fond of the idea, so you tried to reason with her. You told her that you would take all the bullets out of the gun, but you wouldn’t give it to her. She couldn’t make you do that.
All she had to say was that there was a strict no-gun policy inside of the walls of Alexandria unless you were leaving them.
You vividly remember standing up, smiling, and saying: “Well, I guess it’s decided then.”
She was fooled, thinking that you were going to hand it over to her. She held out her palm, waiting for you to pull it out and place it there.
You shook your head, “I’m leaving.”
Deanna let you get all the way to the door, waiting to see if you were bluffing or telling the truth. When you didn’t stop, reaching for the doorknob, she finally asked what your conditions were. 
You scoffed, telling her that you wanted to keep the gun on you at all times, bullet included. You didn’t care about her policy, or if she thought that she and these walls could keep you safe. You didn’t believe her. You didn’t believe any of them, because you haven’t experienced Alexandria in the middle of a crisis.
“There’s never been a crisis before.” She told you smoothly.
“An even better reason for why I won’t be staying.”
“You’re a child.”
“No.” You snapped, turning to look at her, “I’m not, and I can perfectly handle myself, so what makes you think that I need you?” Silence followed the statement, while you waited for some half-assed lame excuse to leave her mouth. There was none, “That’s what I thought.”
“You can keep the gun.” She sighed, “But absolutely no bullets, and we’ll be checking your bag. Will you please sit back down?”
“No, I’m done talking to you.”
After that, it was nothing but a hassle to get the bullets to go outside. Deanna must’ve told Olivia not to give them to you, because you’ve had to sneak them out of the gun supply every single time if you needed them.
You could’ve left—you almost did—but Carl convinced you to stay. And to appease the urge to be outside, you’ve resorted to sneaking out, since they won’t let you through the front gate under any circumstances. Unless you’re accompanied by Carol or one of the others to supervise you. If they won’t let you leave safely, then you’ll find a different way out. At least then they would know that you left, instead of finding out that you’re missing several hours later.
The only person that knows you leave the walls anymore is Carl, and that’s because he finds the walls stuffy sometimes too. There’s only so much you can do in Alexandria before you begin to go insane, which is another reason why you were afraid of finding a place like this. You’ll forget that you’re surviving, not just living. What happens when those precious walls fall? You’ll be as useless as half of those Alexandrians.
“What’re you thinking about?” Carl asks, squeezing your hand when he looks over at you.
“Alexandria, unfortunately.” You sigh, “I miss the prison.”
He shrugs, “It was cold there.”
“We had a good community.” You defend.
“And the beds sucked.”
You roll your eyes, “At least there was a lot of work to do. We were never not busy.”
Carl stops walking, forcing you to stop too, “You know, if you want something to do—”
“Shut up.”
He grins, “You could get a job assignment.”
“Shut up.” You repeat, pulling your hand, “Forget I mentioned it.”
You start walking again, Carl follows, “If you’re too embarrassed, I can ask for you.”
“I’m not working for her, ever.”
“You say that now, but eventually you’re going to get bored of being bored. I know you better than that, (Y/n).”
You don’t say anything back, because he’s right. You’re not going to be able to sit around and do nothing. That’s why you wish you could ask to get a running assignment, so you can leave the walls when you want, for however you want. Instead of something stupid like landscape.
Carl knows very well that he’s the only reason why you’re staying. He better be careful when it comes to pushing your buttons.
Carl turns, heading for the nearest house. It's two-story, with a faded green outside and white trim. You follow him up the walkway, watching the street for any walkers that might be lurking nearby. You haven’t seen any the entire way here, not even in the shortcut through the woods. It’s odd seeing the world so bare of the dead.
Carl knocks on the front door a few times to draw attention of any walkers that may or may not be inside. You pull out your knife, the two of you quietly listening for any noises. When no dead show up at the windows, Carl is the first to enter cautiously. You check behind you one more time before stepping inside, shutting the door in case you’ve got trailers.
There’s been a few times where you’ve learned your lesson when it comes to keeping doors open. Carol always says that there’s nothing more dangerous than closed doors and inescapable houses. You disagree. If the door is shut, you know for certain that there’s nothing following you inside, unless it’s alive.
The two of you split to clear the house. You’ve been through this neighborhood plenty of times, and recognize the patterns to the layouts. You just haven’t been to this branch before, you and Carl take it one cul-de-sac at a time.
You creep into the kitchen on the left, eyes searching open places and hiding spots. You knock on the countertop to see if you can draw anything out of the shadows. You swing the pantry door open and jump back, finding it partially empty. There’s plenty to bring back to Alexandria, though.
You click on your flashlight as you get deeper into the house, heading into the laundry room. You check every corner and hiding space, finding nothing but a pile of clothes in the corner. With nothing here, you back out, and head into the main foyer, where Carl’s already waiting for you, sitting on the stair, messing with a tennis ball.
“Clear.” You murmur, “We’ve got a nice pantry to raid.”
“Let’s start with that first.” He says, tossing the ball into the living room.
The two of you dig through the cupboards and pantry, setting them on the counter to see just how much you’ve found. You have a feeling that everyone already knows that you sneak out frequently, really there’s no point in hiding it. You might as well bring back an apology gift, even if you aren’t sorry by any means.
You and Carl split the food into your bags to make it easier to carry. You zip up your bag and swing it onto your back again. Carl returns to the living room to look through the DVD’s. You sit on the arm of the couch, waiting for him patiently. He’s so funny when it comes to trying to find things for Judith to watch or toys to play with.
The house is pretty untouched since the beginning of the apocalypse, judging by the amount of food in the pantry. You get off of the couch, wandering over to the window sill. You have this game where you run your finger over the thick layer of dust. You roll it between your fingers, turning to flick it in Carl’s direction.
He watches it land by his feet, glaring at you, “Let’s go up.”
He goes up the stairs first, as usual. You follow him wordlessly, looking over the picture frames on the walls. A family lived here, parents and two teenagers—a boy and a girl. You brush some of the dust off to see a picture more clearly. 
At the top of the stairs, Carl points up, “(Y/n), look.”
You follow his finger, and see that he’s pointing out the attic to you. A smile comes over your face as you hurry up the rest of the steps. It’s your favorite part about exploring houses. What do they have stored in the attic? It’s typically Halloween costumes, Christmas decorations, old stuff that they use once a year, but sometimes there’s good shit.
“Bingo.” You grin.
You follow Carl into the teenage boy’s room. You curiously look at the video game posters on the wall while he opens drawers and sifts through the boys’ belongings. There’s no picture frames in here, nothing to tell his story besides the hallway. Carl pulls out a stack of comic books that he doesn’t own yet, and carefully slides them into his bag.
You watch him walk by a game system four times before he notices it. He’s excited when he sees the video games on the shelf beneath, looking through them one by one. He picks a few that he’s interested in, and then the two of you leave to check out the other rooms.
The parents’ bedroom is uniform and cleanly made, untouched since the day they left. You find a few sweaters in Carol’s size that she might like, folding them over your arm to carry them with you for the time being. Carl tries to find something for his dad, but he’s at a loss. Everything here would be too out of character for him.
The final room belongs to the girl. You open the door this time, going to take a step inside. 
The smell of rotting corpses is all too familiar to your nose by now, but the odor inside of the room is foul. You let out a gag, covering your nose while you take several steps back, shaking your head, “I’m not going in there.”
“We’ve seen worse.” Carl peeks.
“I’m sure we have. I’m still not going in there.”
Carl reaches in to grab the doorknob, “Alright, let’s go into the attic, then.”
The two of you work together to get to the string that’s hanging from the ceiling. Carl brings the rolling chair from the boys’ room into the hallway. You step onto the chair, using his shoulder as support while he holds it steady. You pull the door open, and a flurry of dust comes raining down on you.
While you cover your mouth and nose, you realize that there’s no ladder that usually goes with it.
You let out a sigh, “Well, this sucks.”
You reach your hand in the air, trying to see if your fingers even graze the edge of the opening, and they don’t. You can’t even guarantee that a jump would get you up there, either. You hop off the chair, placing your hands on your hips, biting the inside of your cheek.
Suddenly you redirect your attention to Carl with a smile.
He frowns, “What is it?”
“You know, you’re tall.” You flash him a toothy smile, “Let me on your shoulders.”
Carl makes a face, slowly starting to shake his head.
“Don’t say no yet, we haven’t tried it.”
“Babe, this is a great way to get us both killed because we end up falling down the stairs and breaking our necks.” He reasons.
“Just drop me in the other direction.” You wave off his concern, then motion for him to get down.
Carl closes his eyes, but lowers to his knees, “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”
“I’m lucky you love me.” You agree, carefully placing your thighs on his shoulders, “Up we go!”
Carl takes a deep breath, holding it as he struggles to find a good footing. He uses the wall to help him extend his legs all the way, eventually reaching for the closet doorknob to get him up the rest of the way. You steady on his shoulders, being careful not to make any big movements. He takes it one step at a time to bring you beneath the hole, and then adjusts his stance.
This isn’t the first time he’s done this for you, and if he accidentally drops you, it wouldn’t be the first time you fell down the stairs. That’s why you’re not worried about it. You haven’t died yet, so there is no reason to be careful.
You can grab onto the edges now, and you pull yourself up most of the way. You’re very careful when you use Carl’s shoulders to push up the rest of the way. It’s dark as all hell up here, once your butt is firmly planted, you click on your flashlight, watching the dust dance in front of the newfound light.
There are loads of boxes and containers, all written on to tell you what they hold. You look for a ladder, but don’t seem to find one. It must be in the garage, that’s the only other place where it would make sense. You wiggle onto your stomach, placing the flashlight down while you reach down to grab Carl.
“No ladder?”
“Must be in the garage.” You say.
He steps onto the chair, and then proceeds to jump to take your hand, sending the chair flying across the hall. You let out a light laugh, beginning to pull him up. You hold with both hands for most of the way, but as soon as he can reach, you switch to one hand only. Carl swings himself into the attic, and it takes him five minutes of deep breathing before he decides that he’s ready to help you look through boxes.
Just as you thought, there’s Halloween costumes. Carl pulls out a pirate hat and tosses it to you to wear while he pulls over an eye patch, “Aye aye Captain.” He muses.
You let out a snort.
While he continues to go through the other boxes, looking for any swords, you end up stopping on a bin marked ‘grandma’s stuff’. You pop open the lid, pulling out the covered wedding dress and laying it on the ground. The further you get into the box, the sadder you seem to get.
There’s an old jewelry box, inside lies precious gems and silvers that their grandma must’ve loved at some point. You wind the back of the box, watching the ballerina begin to spin first, then the twinkling song plays slowly. You run your finger over the rings, necklaces and earrings.
There’s a photo album in the box. It’s falling apart at the seams, so you’re extra gentle with it while you look through it. It’s old pictures, all greyed out and almost hard to make out what they’re supposed to be. Family pictures that must be decades old, maybe grandma when she was younger. There’s a polaroid here and there, nothing too amazing. The box stops singing, and you careful put everything back inside of the container.
A tickling sensation touches your shoulder, you try to brush it off, taking it as a piece of dust or something. Except, when it’s sticky, you look over.
A scream leaves your throat as you swat away the spider web, rubbing it on your jeans, while heading for the only escape. Carl watches you in stunned silence, until he realizes what you’re about to do.
“(Y/n)---wait!”
You slip out of the attic, falling several feet until you hit the hardwood floor. First its your feet as you twist your ankle, your knees painfully slamming next, the last being your hands.
“Ouch, fuck!” You shout, face twisting as you immediately move to grab your ankle.
A black speck with several legs reminds you why you had left the attic in the first place. Another scream, much louder and terrified than the last, follows. You brush your skin rapidly, backing away from the area as you desperately try to find the demon somewhere on the floor.
“(Y/n)?” Carl asks, hanging his head out of the attic, the eyepatch slips off his head, and he barely catches it in the air.
“I fucking—” You slam your good foot on the spider, dragging your foot a little to ensure that it’s dead, “I think I twisted my ankle.”
“Why are you always so dramatic?” He sighs, hanging his feet out, and then dropping down.
“I’m not kidding, Carl.” You snap, wincing when you try to roll your ankle to stretch it, “It fucking hurts.”
He’s on the tip of his toes, shirt riding up as he stretches to grab the string to shut the attic. He watches it resume its place, “All over a little spider.”
You slam your good foot into his skin, boot scraping along skin. He lets out a yelp, backing away from you. You shake your head, turning over onto your knees to get up carefully, using the wall as support. It hurts to put any weight on your right ankle, but you have no choice. There’s a long walk back home with a heavy backpack and a wall to scale.
“Let’s just go.” You mumble, limping over to the steps. You’re sure that you’re doing more harm than good by walking on it.
“Hold on.” Carl says, grabbing your arm, “Let me look at it.”
“No.” You snap, he lets you pull away from his grasp.
He doesn’t care, getting onto his knees, hand on the back of your calf to keep you from going anywhere while he unties your shoe. He’s very gentle when it comes to pulling off the boot and peeling back the sock to take a look for himself. 
“Where does it hurt?”
“Right on the ankle.” You sigh through your nose, looking away from him.
He ignores the noise, pressing on the skin, watching your face for a reaction. He gets it when he presses a little too hard and you grimace. You jerk forward, placing your hand on his head to steady yourself.
“There.” You motion, “The last spot you touched.”
He helps you stretch it enough to the point where you can stand on it without too much pain, “My poor baby is in so much pain.”
“Kiss me and shut up.” You tell him, he smiles.
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mvybanks · 11 months
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🎵 you right by doja cat and the weeknd? (-@hydrngea)
i decided to write this for rafe🤭 (got carried away, he makes me feral)
2k celebration —> CLOSED!!
╰┈➤ 🎵—> boring! let’s listen to some music!! : send me a song and i’ll write something based on it!
warnings: 18+ , smut, cheating, possessive!rafe
Yeah, it ain't no fair to you (No fair)
I ain't too scared to shoot, ah (Too scared)
But I got a man at home (At home)
And we like family too (Okay)
But I got needs and wants (And wants)
Ruins my attitude (Ruins my attitude)
Fucks my self control (Yep, mmhmm)
Wanna take care of you, and (Take care, mmm)
Just for the night, yeah, just for the night
Do I wanna lose all that I have?
You could be a muse and help me catch
But I just need you to come break my back
If you wanna attack, then it's just that, that's just life
I'ma be real, you just my type
I got a man, but he ain't in sight right now, so
Your fingers are gripping Rafe’s back, probably leaving mark with your nails, your legs are wrapped around his middle and your back is lying on the mattress of his bed as he keeps rutting into you, hard and punishing. He’s painfully slow with his strokes, forcing you to feel every ridge and inch of his large cock, which is able to hit your g-spot with every thrust.
Rafe knows exactly what he’s doing, he knows your body better than you do, better than he does. It’s mean what you’re doing, cheating on your boyfriend to fuck your best friend but you can’t help it, no one’s able to make you feel the way he does; no one can make you cum like he can. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anyone in your life, but you can’t dump your boyfriend, not for him.
Rafe is unpredictable, scared of commitment and serious talks, and as much as you want to be with him, you can’t, you can’t give him all of you because you know he won’t give you all of himself. So, you let him fuck you into his mattress until you’re both shaking messes, until all you know is him and nothing else; you let him fuck you like he means it, although you’re sure he doesn’t.
Oh, how wrong you are.
He’s completely and utterly in love with you, but he knows that tool of your boyfriend is better for you, he can show you what a healthy relationship is and Rafe won’t take that away from you. He takes everything he can, and if letting you cum on his cock until you’re dumb is the only way to have you, he’ll take it.
Either way, neither of you could live without the other’s touch; you need him like you need oxygen, you crave his hands on your body all day, everyday, until he finally grants you your wish.
Now, he’s relishing in the way you moan for him, the way you whine his name in breathless whispers, your breath completely knocked out of your lungs with each hard thrust he gives you. He’s grunting and groaning in your neck, leaving marks all over your chest and on your thighs from the death grip he has on them.
“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he growls in your ear, which makes you clench harder around him.
“You like that, don’t you? You like when I call you my good girl,” he taunts you before raising his head to look at your fucked out expression, your head lolled back and your eyes in the back of your head as you can’t make out one coherent sentence; he loves you like this, his perfect girl, taking everything he gives you. “All mine. My girl,” he says with a possessive growl in his voice.
When he feels you getting tighter and clamping down on him harder, he groans loudly, “tell me you’re mine or I won’t let you cum.”
You gasp at his words, even in your fucked out state the order shocks you to your core. His hand snakes around your neck and his forehead falls on yours, “tell me,” and he’s pleading now, he needs you to tell him that you’re his, that no one else can make you a shaking mess like he can, that you’re only his good girl.
“I’m yours, Rafe,” you gasp out, “I’m only yours.”
He growls before claiming your mouth, his thrusts becoming faster as he wants to make you unravel beneath him for the third time today. You both moan against each other’s mouths, the kiss is sloppy and a mess of tongues and drool, but neither of you seem to care, too busy feeling the other’s bare skin.
The hand that was previously on your neck travels down to your cunt, rubbing fast and precise circles on your clit and you scream from pleasure against him. “Cum for me, baby,” he rasps on your lips and you follow his orders immediately, letting your orgasm take control of your whole body as you arch your back upwards.
Rafe admires your state, God, how much he loves watching you fall over the edge with him, because of him.
“He might be your boyfriend, but you belong to me.”
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