#marcus moreno smut

[morallyinept]

Heyday Hero! - A Marcus Moreno One Shot

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

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

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

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

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

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

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

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

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

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

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“52.” Marcus frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You always say so."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dating specifically for retired Heroics?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Slut central.” Missy smirked.

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

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

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

“Purple? Why not the green one?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no, let me just-”

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

“Well, let me take my glasses off.”

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

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

Marcus simply scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

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

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

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

"You're a weirdo." He smirked.

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

"Thanks," he chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loneliness, it seemed, was hereditary.

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

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

“Oh, she’s gorgeous, Dad.”

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

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

"You think so?" He asked.

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

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

“Send her a message back.”

“What do I say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your response made his cheeks ache from grinning so much:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was as if he had become invisible overnight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Actually, they’re from my garden.”

“You grow these?” You baulk.

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

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

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

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

You nod. “I'd love some.”

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

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

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

But the silences are never awkward between you both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He watches you smile and the world outside implodes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s the tiramisu,” you chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was?” You query gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods. “I’d like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marcus listens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you boasting, Marcus?" You tease.

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

You both laugh as he realises what he just insinuated.

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

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

“A flight device?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like this?" You whisper.

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

"You won't let me go?"

He shakes his head. "Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“True,” you giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?" He queries with raised eyebrows.

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

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

“I don’t think that at all.”

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

“Me too.” You agree nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God, yes…” You whine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So good.” You groan.

“More?”

“More.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both shudder as you do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm, I want it so badly.”

"I want you so badly."

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

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

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

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

“It’s not too much?”

“No, you feel incredible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come for me," he pants.

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

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

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

You screech as it leaves your bones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything you want, beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… so good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So am I. Don't stop!” You wail.

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

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

“You sure?”

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

“Fuck!” He yells. "Oh fuck!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The soft hum of the morning unfolds around you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning handsome.” You sigh dreamily.

“How did you sleep?” He enquires.

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

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

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

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

“I’d love to.” You smile.

“What are you doing later this afternoon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I like that, that thing you say."

"Hermosa?"

"Yeah." You smile.

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, my hero.” You swoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And to feel him inside you again...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stop it." He groans, flushed.

“You’re glowing.”

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

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

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

“Are you seeing her again?”

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

“Good.” She chirps.

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

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

Once done, she turns to him.

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

“Thanks, kiddo.”

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

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

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

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

💜

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

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

[frannyzooey]

The Dinner

Marcus Moreno x f!college reader

The Secret Universe

Rating: Explicit, Daddy Kink™ (seriously, like a lot)

A/N: I have many people to thank for this one: @imaswellkid @the-ginger-hedge-witch @whatsnewalycat @obiknights and the amazing @the-scandalorian - every single one of them gave me the most amazing advice, but also gave me endless reassurance when I needed it, and I could never thank them enough. Sometimes it really takes a village ❤

--

“How is stats this semester? Need any help?” 

You take a slow sip of your ice water, listening. 

“It’s okay,” Missy replies. “Better, now that I signed up for tutoring during my free period, which — “ she points her fork at her father, who currently has a slightly smug expression on his face, “— totally sucks. I know you said it would help, and it did, but at what cost, dad?”

His shoulders move as he huffs a laugh and he pokes around his dinner plate, spearing some roasted broccoli. Shrugging, he glances at you. “Is a couple of hours a week impacting your guys' social life that bad?”

“No, sir,” you answer with a polite smile. 

The title slips off your tongue with ease, and his playful expression falters for a moment. 

Clearing his throat, he shifts in his chair. “That’s what I thought.” 

He takes a swallow of his water — a small sip, then a larger one — and the three of you continue to eat. 

The dining room where you sit is seldom used, but cozy. The lighting dim but inviting, the sparse surface of the table lends it a more formal appearance and you think about how much you would have preferred to eat at the table in the kitchen. The one you passed earlier, cluttered with mail, magazines, keys, and other things that never really have any other home than a flat surface in the kitchen. 

Eating there would have made you feel more at ease. Eating here makes you feel more like a guest. And with Marcus at the head of the table, the formality of the seating arrangement pulls at you: a constant reminder of who he is. 

Forks slide against plates, glasses being set down with a muted thud on the wooden surface of the table and when Missy reaches for another bread roll, a glance over at him has you noticing his body language.  

He’s looking everywhere but you – at a painting on the wall, at his half eaten plate, at the condensation gathering on his glass. He lets his hand rest around the glass, his thumb swiping through the water and a thrumming, heady pulse that Missy seems oblivious to grows until it fills the space between your chairs. 

Swallowing, you place your elbow on the table near his own. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and his attention turns back to Missy. 

“What else is new?” he asks. “I never hear from you anymore. The room still okay? The bed still make that funny noise?”

Missy frowns, holding a bite of chicken aloft in front of her mouth. “How did you know about that?” 

Marcus sits up straight, shifting again in his chair and opening his mouth as if getting ready to speak, but Missy interrupts him. 

“Oh yea, it was there on move in day,” she remembers. “Whatever. No, we got that tool kit out that you gave me at the beginning of the year and fixed it yesterday. A real girl boss moment.”

She looks over at you and grins, and you return it despite the rapid beat of your heart.

“Yea,” you add, not allowing your eyes to stray from her face. “You killed it.”

You can feel his eyes on you, aware out of the corner of your eye how they slide down your frame and back up again. Whether he’s conscious of it or not, he’s been doing it all night and you want nothing more than to return the look, but you don’t. 

“You ladies have any plans for the weekend?” Marcus asks. 

Missy nods, excitement filling her eyes. “Yea, I think so? I got laundry and stuff to catch up on, but there is this party tomorrow night I wanna go to. I got a text about it earlier, I think it’s around 8ish?”

A small frown appears between Marcus’s brows. “Where’s it at? Around here?”

“Yea, I think so? I’m not really sure. I’ll have to look up the address or something.”

He doesn’t like that answer, you can tell by the way his frown doesn’t go away and you chance a peek at his face while he’s distracted. A pulsing beat gathers between your thighs, at both the sternness of his expression but also the care behind it. 

“Well,” he continues, taking another bite of dinner. “Let me know, okay? I’ll drop you off and pick you up.”

“Dad,” Missy playfully whines. “You’re embarrassing me.”

He rolls his eyes, stretching his legs out under the table and when one of his knees knocks into yours, you still. 

His eyes glance down, a short, apologetic smile showing briefly in your direction but he doesn’t move it. It stays there, his leg shifting just enough to press against yours with intent and as the dinner goes on, you resist the urge to smile. 

–

You met them both for the first time on move-in day. 

Cars lined along the driveway to the dorms with their trunks crammed full of new bedding and boxes and the bare essentials for kitchens and showers, you noticed them right away. 

Missy, true to the picture she emailed you weeks ago when introducing herself as your new roommate, and Marcus, when he stepped around the side of the car to open the trunk. Close-cropped dark hair shone browner in the sun, the strands neatly combed into place, yet slightly curled with the humidity. His shirt stretched tight across his wide shoulders, tucked neatly into dress pants that fit him perfectly. The fabric pulled across his back when he leaned forward to reach in for the first boxes and when Missy shouted your name, he turned around. 

You had to pull your eyes away from his face to greet her with a shy smile. 

He stuck around the entire morning – making sure the lofts were set up correctly, helping move furniture, his kind, good humored eyes on his daughter as he took in her first day at college. He offered to take the two of you out to lunch in celebration, but before you could reply, Missy shooed him away. 

“We’re gonna go grab a coffee or something. Get to know each other. You can get outta here, dad. Thanks for the help.”

You could tell she genuinely meant it, but the paltry thanks wasn’t enough in your opinion. He had already done more than your parents had ever done for you, and you wondered what it was like to grow up in a house where it happened so often you took it for granted. Your parents hadn’t even bothered to give you a ride on your first day, you had taken the bus with your meager boxes. 

He humored her, giving her a soft smile and when he turned to say goodbye to you, you made sure to hold his gaze when you thanked him. 

“Not a problem,” he replied sincerely. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

–

The two of them clear the plates while you grab what you can from the table, and it’s apparent that they have their own shorthand method of communication with each other. She clears, he starts the dishwater. She empties scraps into the trash to stack plates neatly by the sink, and when you help her, his eyes linger on your mouth when he turns to say thank you. 

A routine that had never taken place in your own home, you revel in the roles everyone plays. The comfort of them, the domesticity. You imagine the two of them doing this every night before Missy left for college, and the mental image of Marcus standing at the sink with his t-shirt stretched over the strong muscles of his back warms you from the inside out. Even more when you think about him reminding Missy to clear her place, or asking her what she wants in her lunch tomorrow. 

The qualities of a dad: one who does because he cares, but also guides. 

Done clearing, Missy leaves the room, the telltale sound of the washer door opening down the hall, and Marcus stills at the sink, listening. 

“Listen, don’t jam it all in there like last time, okay?” he warns, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. “You can do more than one load. No rush, Missy, okay?”

“Yea, yea, I got it,” she yells back, and he sighs, shaking his head. You meet his eye in a knowing look, and the corner of his lips pulls up in a rueful smile. 

“She almost broke it last time, trying to fit about a month of clothes in all at once.”

You laugh, and nod. “She does that at the dorm too.” 

He shakes his head, pushing his hands into the water. 

“You don’t need to use those machines — either of you. You’re always welcome to come over and do it here,” he offers, searching in the sudsy water for a plate. Finding it, he begins scrubbing it with a rag. “Either of you. Even if she can’t come, you can.”

A pause.

“Anytime you want.”

The invitation hangs between the two of you in the silence, and you keep your eyes on his forearms as they flex above the suds. A sudden, unbidden image of them flexing between your thighs flashes through your mind, the weight of his fingers felt inside you. 

His voice lowers. “We could even plan it that way, so we don’t have to keep…“

He gives you a knowing look, and guilt gnaws at you as you listen to Missy hum in the next room.  

“It’s not that I don’t want that,” you explain, your voice keeping quiet. “I just don’t want…” Uncertainty flashes across your features and when you look up, you find that he’s already looking at you. 

“Don’t want what?” he asks. 

Unsure how to put your fear into words, you hesitate. Moving your meetings to his house somehow makes them more of an offense in your mind. In the space he shares with his daughter; their family home. 

The duality of the man standing next to you has been messing with you all night: the Marcus that stands beside you now versus the Marcus that you know. The unassuming, kind face of a good father masking the hooded lust you know his eyes contain. The strength held in his arms when he takes the trash out; the flex of them under your bare knees when he spreads you wide. His plush bottom lip in a soft smile for his daughter; the same pressing against your skin, your mouth, between your legs. 

A secret shadow follows him around constantly, fleeting slices of the man you know appearing if you watch him long enough. His throaty laugh, the spread of his thighs on the couch, the flex of his jaw.

Seeing him here in his kitchen or at the head of the dining room table has the men merging in your mind despite your ability, until now, to keep them separate. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth, thinking. 

“Don’t want what?” he repeats, softer this time, tenderness curling around the words and you’re about to answer when Missy walks back into the kitchen. 

“Hey, you don’t have to help him with that. I got it.”

He stands taller, shifting away from you and you back up from the sink, making room for her. She immediately scoops a delicate mound of bubbles and flicks them at Marcus, laughing when he grimaces with a chuckle. The teasing makes you smile.

He’s so good with her — so patient, and kind, and attentive. So genuinely invested in her answers in a way you’d never experienced, and though you are happy for your best friend in that she has such a doting parent, you’d be lying if you said a little jealousy never crept into your heart when you watched them. 

Not because you wanted either of them to choose you, but because they so clearly had each other. Someone to depend on; a traditional parental/child relationship full of trust and respect and love. 

You watch them for a moment as they work in tandem, their mannerisms similar from behind. 

“I’m gonna take a shower before bed,” you announce, and excusing yourself from the room, you leave them to finish the dishes. 

—

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.”

Down the hall from his room and across from Missy’s, the guest bedroom door clicks shut quietly in the dark. The shuffle of sheets whispering as you shift to make room for him in the bed, the mattress dips when he joins you, the heat of his body felt close. His hands reach for you, pulling you closer and there are no other words spoken as his mouth meets yours, deepening the kiss immediately. 

His tongue slides against your own, your taste familiar and maddeningly addictive, and he groans deeply into it, rolling you onto your back. 

Beneath the solid weight of his body is your favorite place – secure, safe, desired, wanted. Trapped between the soft bed and the scent of his warm skin, his mouth takes and takes and takes from yours until you’re drunk with arousal beneath him, wanting to stay there forever. 

“I wanted you so bad at dinner,” he breathes in a low confession. “So fucking bad, even when you walked through the door.”

Every one of his words is matched with a weighted grind of his hips into the cradle of your thighs, and you roll right back against him, a soft sound catching in your throat at the delicious pressure. There is something that makes you weak about his voice in general, but when he swears – especially in his desperation to express how much he’s wanted you – it lights a path straight from your ears to your center; need blooming fierce and bright.

You would tell him how much you thought about him just as much if his mouth didn’t immediately cover yours again, and pushing your fingers through his close-cropped dark hair, you match his urgency. Your knees hitch higher around his broad torso, your thighs tightening with every flex of your hips up and the stiff length of his cock underneath his sleep pants fits perfectly along the damp seam darkening your underwear. 

You can feel the thick ridge of it, aching for the filling heft as he grinds his hips against you again and again, and whimpering for more underneath him, the words slip out. 

“Please, daddy.”

He stills for a split second, breaking the kiss as a shudder slips through him and a wash of embarrassed heat floods your face, but it’s quickly replaced with arousal when he groans as if in pain, his furrowed brow pressed into the plane of your chest. 

His hand splays against your side to keep you in place with a pained press of his fingers. “Jesus Christ, baby, you can’t — you can’t say things like that. Please. Please.”

“But I want it,” you whisper. 

You do. You’ve wanted it ever since you met him, just knowing by looking at him that he would give you what you need. So thoughtful, so considerate and kind, so attentive and warm but also very much a man – a handsome, understated man with needs that showed clear on his face every time you met him after that first time. 

The second, third, fourth time you met him, the flicker of interest in his dark brown eyes. 

The magnetic, heady pulse of attraction that filled the small room when he showed up once while Missy was at class. 

The lunch that he invited you to instead of her, and the undivided attention he gave you from across the table. The way he reminded you to buckle your seatbelt, and the way you leaned over and kissed him when he waited a beat too long reluctantly saying goodbye outside your dorm, on the street.  

That first, tentative kiss after he followed you back to your room at the reassurance Missy had classes that afternoon, and the frown furrowed between his brows, both at how wrong it was to want this and relief at finally giving in. 

The soft cotton of your sheets sliding against your bare back, the way his body seemed too big for the narrow twin. 

His giving mouth, soothing guidance rumbled in his deep voice. 

Something that’s taken root in your mind with every time he brings you to bed, you don’t know how else to describe how you want to be tucked into his side to be made felt safe and secure, while also fucked deep into the mattress until you’re sobbing with fullness. 

Being here with him has made the need for it unbearable, and what you do know is that no matter what you want, he’ll give it to you. 

Your confession is a quiet one that lingers in the air and he looks up, his doleful, brown eyes finding yours. They stay there, searching for the truth and when he finds it in your slightly ashamed expression, he pulls himself up until you are face to face. 

“Yea?” he asks, soothing stray hairs at your temple. “You want a daddy?”

The word gives him pause, but his cock hardens painfully against the cool sheets and when you nod, the vulnerability shown on your face is so open that he finds himself mirroring it, wanting to soothe. 

He not only understands but wants, so very badly.  

“Okay, okay,” he agrees. The tension in your body drains as you soften underneath him; pliant and moldable for his needs. “Say it again, baby.”

“Daddy,” you whisper in a relieved rush, your plush lips parting only just. 

His hooded eyes watch the word slip from your mouth, and his thumb skates along the plump cushion of your bottom lip, before pushing just inside. He slides his thumb over the wet muscle of your tongue, letting you suck on it. 

Bright need swells and aches between his thighs, your soft, lush skin slipping against his as you squirm in need underneath him and he slips his thumb from your mouth before pressing his lips to yours with a rough kiss. 

Desperate to feel the clutch of your tight, wet cunt, he reaches down to open you up for him, his hand slipping beneath your panties and his fingers sliding with a familiar swipe through your soaked curls. He finds the dip where you need him most, your arousal soaking the pads of his competent touch and his breathing quickens, his eyes flitting between your face and his cotton covered hand. 

The same fingers that made dinner, that queued up the movie, that clasped under his chin when he listened to Missy talk. The same ones that held the steering wheel in a loose grip as he drove you to the store.

They’ve slid into your mouth before, and then your cunt. Brushed against the puckered rim of your asshole, swirled with divine pressure over your clit, and filled you to the brim until you cried out, your cunt a snug slip around them. 

Two fill you now with an urgent slide, the action making him swallow the soft catch of your whine and the ease in which he slips them in and out is aided by how wet and ready you are for him. 

Always so wet; his perfect girl.

“When you called me ‘sir’ at the dinner table,” he pants, nuzzling the bridge of his nose along your jaw as he looks down at his hand. Your thighs open wider for him, and you softly moan, chasing the thick fill of his fingers. “I almost fucking lost it. So sweet. So sweet, baby.” 

“Just – just for you.” Your brow furrowed in pleasure, you chase what he’s building inside you, your small hand slipping down to cover his larger one. Your fingers push over his, guiding him as if he needs it, and the both of you get lost in the slick, consuming motion; his eyes glued on your parted mouth. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to say it. The daddy thing, I –”

“Don’t be sorry. No, fuck. Don’t be sorry, baby. I wanna hear it. I want it.”

His soothing words wash over you, your cunt accepting him deeper as he adds a third finger and before he gives you time to adjust, he’s slipping them from your wet heat, sliding them into his mouth with a suck. He groans with a frown, his lashes dark against his face as his eyes flutter shut and he shifts abruptly down the bed. 

His fingers grip the band of your underwear and tug them roughly down your legs before the width of his shoulders forces your knees apart. The heat of his mouth felt in a humid gust against your spread, bared seam, he tugs you tight to his face, and the emptiness left by the sudden absence of his fingers is immediately replaced with his thick, eager tongue. 

“Marcus!”

His whiskered cheeks brushing roughly against the tender skin on the inside of your thighs, he devours your cunt, his back flexing as he nearly pushes you up the bed in his hunger if not for the way his hands curl around the top of your thighs to hold you in place.  

“Shhh, baby. Shhh,” he reminds you, and you let out a quiet sob, clasping your hand over your mouth. 

He’s so much, a sensory overload being amplified by the darkness around you: the needy grip of his large hands, the slick slide of his tongue, the muffled groans he’s letting out between your legs. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he breathes, his mouth dragging damply over the inside of your thigh with a thick kiss before he licks your clit with the flat of his tongue. He slides it from side to side with pressure, a motion that makes you bow off the bed. 

Mindless with pleasure, you’re overcome with the need to anchor yourself to something — the direct attention is so much, too much — and your hands fist the sheets, your back arching. 

“I washed it just for you, daddy.”

You should be embarrassed but all traces of shame are turned to cinder the second he groans deep and loud, the sound muffled by the way he immediately buries his face with an open mouthed kiss. It’s messy and decadent, his tongue pushing inside you and then it swipes lower. 

Your hips jolt up to meet it; his low, satisfied groan sounding between your cheeks. 

“Fuck,” you whine, the tip of his tongue pressing against the tight ring of muscle before he flattens it to lick a wide, wet stripe from the seam of your ass all the way to your clit. Another one, before he gives your soaked entrance a hungry kiss and the pressure of his face being buried so deep makes you grind against him, your hips moving in time with his, as he seeks his own relief against the sheets. 

“I’m gonna — I’m gonna fucking come. Daddy, you’re gonna make me come.” 

It’s a plea if he’s ever heard one, and he zeroes his focus in on your clit — circling it with his tongue before giving it a light suck. He keeps going as you thread your fingers into his hair with a tug, keeps going as you press your lips together to try to stifle your moans, and keeps going when your thighs tense around his cheeks and you come with a breathless whimper; his tongue swiping hungrily through the salt of your release.

All tension in your body gone, he kisses a path slowly up your body while you lay and catch your breath – up over the top of your thigh, the rounded curve of your hip, the soft, plush underside of your breast. 

He cradles you to his chest, tugging you onto your side as his mouth drags along the line of your neck. He kisses a path over the skin and your hips shift, seeking his out. He can feel you squirming, looking for relief and bellies together, he rolls you onto your back, your hands working together to push his pajama bottoms down and off. 

Your touch is back to frantic as he pulls from your mouth, his hands cradling the sides of your head to keep you in place as he gets his fill and you wind your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push inside. 

He does – a motion that makes your moan get lost underneath his deeper one – and the snap of his hips is immediate and hard, the filling weight of his cock pushing the air from your lungs. 

His lips kiss your closed eyelids, his tongue sweeping over the salt rimmed lashes where a tear lingers and his mouth finds the fragrant, soft skin below your ear. His lips press against it, his mustache tickling you, the roll of his hips never ceasing. 

“You’re being so good for daddy. So good.”

Your eyes open and find his, and he throbs with how sincerely vulnerable you look underneath him right now, desperate to know you’re being good. 

“You’re such a good girl. Always letting me fuck you the way I want. Always letting me take care of you, like you take care of me.” His lips find the corner of your mouth, the delicacy of the kiss in contrast with the way you have to dig your nails into his broad back to hang on as he fucks you harder and he pulls back just enough to look at your face.

“You’re so good, aren’t you, baby. Aren’t you.”

It’s not a question for you to answer, but rather a statement he needs you to confirm and you nod, a tiny frown of pleasure appearing between your brows as you shift rhythmically underneath him. 

“My baby,” he murmurs, catching your mouth in a deep kiss. “My baby.” 

Your hand trails down the line of his spine and splays over his tailbone, sweat beading along the skin as he fills, fills, fills and you widen your thighs, digging your fingers into the swell of his ass to force him deeper. 

“Please, daddy. Please.”

His hips shift into a slow, weighted grind when you beg using those words. He never pulls all the way out, rather forcing himself so deep into the heart of you that you tremble with the need to come underneath him. 

“You’re so fucking pretty. So pretty when you’re gonna come.”

His praise fills you with light from the inside out, pouring out through your sweat damp skin where it’s flush with his own and another tear slips free; your release both a bright, shining edge that he’s guiding you towards and a strong, powerful current that threatens to pull you under. 

“Give it to me.” 

His voice is husky and strained, a quiet plea for you to let go and when you do with a silent cry, the deep dimpled smile on his face is a proud one, equal parts awe and lust. 

He follows shortly after, the tight, wet clutch of your cunt too much for him – but it’s your relieved face that makes him spend every ounce inside you with slow, smooth strokes until there is nothing left. You look so light underneath him, so content and drowsy and drunk with relief. 

He can’t help himself when he bends to kiss the tear track that runs over your temple, giving you another kiss on the apple of your cheek. 

“So good. You were so good.”

You’re so spent you can’t even kiss him back, rather letting him gently nudge you to meet his mouth and even then you let him take what he needs from your kiss swollen lips, opening up for him when his mouth demands it. 

Eventually he shifts, just enough to settle beside you rather than on top, but you automatically follow the heat of his body, curling into his chest. 

“There’s, uh —” he starts, closing his eyes. You watch the thud of his pulse under the tanned skin of his neck. He licks his plush lips, trying to catch his breath. “There’s milk and cereal — or eggs, if you want those in the morning. I didn’t know what you guys would want, so I —“

Your quiet laugh stops him and he looks down at you, smiling when he sees your expression. 

“Are you really telling me about my breakfast options, like some kinda guest?”

“Yea, I guess I am,” he grins. “But you are a special guest in this house,” he replies, tugging you closer. His mouth finds the curve of your collarbone, his smile felt against the skin there. “Especially for me.”

“Guests really get the full treatment here, huh,” you tease. “Dinner, laundry, breakfast, their ass eate—“

You can almost feel his blush in the dark, his fingers immediately digging into your side to stop your sentence, and your stifled giggles fill the dark room but he doesn’t let up until you’re squirming underneath him, breathlessly begging him to stop. 

“What?” you laugh, trying to keep quiet. “I liked that part of the turn down service.”

He grins, the knowing smile of a pleased man who is well aware he did good. He leans in, putting his mouth by your ear. 

“Good to know. Maybe tomorrow the service will include it again.” He pulls back and winks, leaning back in to give you a quick, full kiss. 

“I wish I could stay, but I better get back to my room.”

“I know.”

“See you in the morning?” he asks, so soft and mussed and hopeful yet grown; his voice low and husky. His eyes are soft with affection, his unwavering gaze showing that he genuinely wants to make sure you’re okay before he leaves. 

His hand cradles the curve of your cheek, his thumb swiping along the line of your cheekbone and you tilt to press a kiss against the heel of it. Relief like you haven’t ever known floods through you, but more than that is what you feel underneath that earnest gaze. 

Safe, secure. In both yourself, and what you mean to him. 

“Yea. See you in the morning.”

He smiles, bending to place a delicate, warm kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

You sigh with contentment. 

“Goodnight, daddy.”

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno/you #marcus moreno/reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x reader

[palioom]

day twenty-five - pregnancy

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

word count: 676

warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n; pregnancy kink, breeding kink, cowgirl position, creampie

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

“Oh, you look stunning, darling.” Marcus groaned, his huge hands smoothing over her belly, round with their child. “So gorgeous, can’t wait to see you grow more.”

She hummed, her hips rocking back and forth on top of him, head thrown back, her own hands groping at her breasts.

“You need to shut up, Marcus.” Her words caught on her moan, his hips jerking up, disturbing her rhythm momentarily before she could catch herself again. “Getting off more to my belly than my pussy, naughty boy.”

He whimpered, unable to keep himself from rocking up into her again. So sensitive and desperate, her body making him lose his mind.

It was like she was teasing him all day, in her pretty summer dresses as she roamed around the kitchen, belly large and enticing, rock hard just at the sight of her.

And of course she had noticed just how much more touchy and close he had become ever since she had started to grow bigger, as if that was even possible with a man as attentive and loving as Marcus.

But he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, eating her out when he could, sneaking his hand below her dress as she was cooking in the kitchen, inviting her into his office just so he could bury himself inside of her.

“Can’t help it, sweetheart.” He moaned, watching her head roll forwards just to give him an amused grin. “You look so pretty when you’re pregnant."

She laughed, grinding down harder, her hands leaving her breasts, immediately replaced with his, to move down to his chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples, another sweet moan making her clench around him.

Marcus was so easily flustered and aroused, hands twitching on her skin as she sped up just a little. 

“Wanna fuck another baby into me right away, don’t you?” She asked, seeing the crease between his brows deepen, his eyes screwed shut while he nodded. “Love me like this so much, don’t you? Fuck, Marcus.”

He absolutely did, something about him was just crazy about her like this.

“Fill me up some more, honey.” 

Squeezing her full breasts, it was almost enough to make him cum, imagining them leaking and round like this forever.

Her heavy weight felt heavenly on him, trying to meet her movements with his own thrusts, stopping when her fingers pinched his nipples. Always so demanding and in charge, even now, even like this.

“Gonna fill you up, you look so beautiful like this.” Voice hoarse, clearly close to bursting, his eyes opened to look at her again.

Those sweet, dark eyes so full of lust right now, desperate.

Changing the angle slightly, she ground into him, her clit receiving just the perfect amount of friction, his rough hands on her breasts only providing further stimulation, letting the coil inside her burst.

“Fuck, yes! Cum inside me, please, Marcus!” She cried out, losing her rhythm but trying to coax him over the edge too, nails digging into his skin. “Please, honey!”

Marcus couldn’t hold back much longer, her tight pussy gripping him too much to resist, his hands moving to her hips to push her down onto him as he spilled himself inside of her with a whine.

Soothing the skin with his thumbs as he slowly calmed down, helping her off of him and down onto the sheets. 

“Are you serious about what you said, honey?” Marcus asked as he rearranged the pillows for her, making it more comfortable for her to lay down, his hand smoothing over her belly after. “You want more kids?”

She hummed, looking back at him with a tired smile.

“Yeah, you clearly enjoy making them and seeing me pregnant.”

A blush crept over his cheeks, leaning down to kiss her, lingering on her lips for a moment, then kissing her shoulder tenderly.

Just laying down behind her, a smile on his face as he slotted his body against hers, his hand still stroking her pregnant form.

He would really enjoy having more kids with her.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #kinktober 2023 #my writing

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 27th

Day 27: Wax Play, Glory Hole, Group Sex

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Sex clubs, anonymous sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingers, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, fantasizing, cream pie

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

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

He has needs. Needs that have been unfulfilled for so long since the death of his wife. Needs that he can’t bring himself to slack by dating and getting involved with someone. It’s still too raw, too painful. Plus, he doesn’t know how Missy would react to there being another woman in his life, in her life. She had loved her mother fiercely, still does, like Marcus does. It’s why he had started coming here. 

Here, at The Hole, they are discreet. Very. Politicians, celebrities, and Heroes are among the regulars that come here to blow off steam in any manner of ways. Always anonymous and there are any number of pleasures to be had. He scans in with a card and inputs in what he is looking for. A room number will appear and that is where he will go. Or he could find someone by their room number. Certain people are always hosting in specific rooms and he knows the one that he continuously goes to. 

Room 417. It’s almost like an addiction at this point. He doesn’t care though, because he knows what he will find when he opens the door. A perfect pussy on display, legs resting on hooks. Only the lower body is on display, apparently she doesn’t suck cock, or maybe her other half is at another glory hole, but he doesn’t think that’s the case. Not with the sounds she gives him. 

Marcus Moreno is a Heroic. He’s a household name. However, here he’s just a number. One of hundreds that submit STI tests every week and participate in the pure debauchery of the club. This is where he can work out the stress of his job, of being a single father, out on that pretty pussy in room 417. 

It’s always interesting when you are ‘the stirrups’. Oftentimes, you find that some men prefer to just get that anonymous blow job, but others, they want pussy. They want to sink into a wet cunt and fuck away whatever need they have. Or maybe your ass. You don’t mind it. 

The space for your head, your torso, is a little boring. You normally close your eyes and meditate or just rest while you wait. Knowing that someone will eventually come. The small chime before the door opens makes your eyes pop open and you strain to hear them. 

He’s quiet, shuffling into the room and stopping. Staring. Enjoying the view before he decides what he wants to do. It’s what he does every time to this cunt. What he’s found he loves doing. Marcus shifts forward and runs a single finger down the fold of the labia. 

Your body twitches when you feel someone touch you. An involuntary response, that makes you giggle quietly. You do it nearly every time, you can’t help it. 

Marcus grins. There’s something about that honest, raw response that he enjoys. One that makes this seem like more than an anonymous encounter. He pulls his finger away and slips two into his mouth to wet them. 

“Look so pretty lying here.” He coos as he runs the now wet fingers up and down your exposed slit. “Just waiting for someone to come, huh?”

That voice. It makes you shiver every time and you’ve heard it quite a few times here. It makes you think of your boss, Marcus Moreno. That raspy baritone that you hear everyday at work. But it couldn’t be him. There’s no way a man like him would come to a place like this. But this is your indulgence, your fantasy. That Marcus is on the other side of that wall.

He hums when he sees the thighs relax, spreading even more in invitation. It’s always so beautiful when a woman accepts his touch. The people who say that consent is guaranteed since they are in the stirrups never witness the unfurling of their body’s. Never pay attention to the queues that are given. But they probably never think about pleasuring the person on their back either. 

Whoever this man is, you always love when he is the one who comes. His fingers slowly, lazily get to know your sex. Like it’s the first time that he’s touched you, even though you know you’ve had him before. So when you get wet almost immediately, it’s in anticipation of what you know is coming. 

Marcus groans at the first bit of arousal that coats his fingers. “Fuck, do you like the way I’m touching you? Let me know if you don’t like something, sweetheart.” He rubs the clit and then drags his fingers up and down the folds as he spreads the  wetness. “A pretty pussy like this is made for pleasure.”

You moan softly. Plenty of men talk while they are with you. Immediately shoving their cocks into your cunt and talking about how wet or tight you are, when you’re not that fucking wet. It’s about their pleasure and they don’t really care about yours. Not your imaginary Marcus. He takes his time. He spends time doing more than just fucking you. He breaks you apart. 

“One day I’m going to try your ass out.” It’s almost like he’s having a conversation with the woman he’s touching, but she never does more than moan or cry out normal phrases. That’s okay, all he wants is to hear her sweet voice, to see if it’s as familiar as he imagines. “But this sweet little pussy is too good. I’m addicted.”

Your eyes roll back, another moan bubbling up from your chest. In your mind, Marcus is hovering over you, those glasses discarded along with every stitch of clothing as he looks at you like you’re his entire world. 

His fingers dip inside the tight little hole. Popping back out before going too deep and groaning when the walls try to tighten around them. “Now.” He shuffles to his knees in front of the contraption that exposes this cunt to his eyes. “Be a good girl and let me eat your pussy.” He orders, right before his mouth latches onto the clit and his fingers plunge deep. 

You cry out, body jerking in pleasure and shock, even though you knew he would eat you out. This man does every time and your eyes flutter closed. Imagining that it's Marcus between your legs and your walls clench down around his fingers. 

Marcus chuckles, loving how responsive this woman is. Her beautiful choked noises makes his hard cock twitch and throbs as it sticks straight up and he has to resist wrapping his free hand around it. Instead he grabs onto one hip and squeezes as his tongue curls around the clit and he sucks on it. 

“Oh god.” You choke out, stomach twisting in pleasure and your hands slide up to cup your tits. Letting this man feast on your cunt like it’s an altar of worship. “So good baby, so good.”

Praise gets him. He misses it. Has missed it until room 417, until this pussy and the wonderful voice that comes with it. He knows that voice but he can never place it. Not that throaty, lust rough begging. He wants to hear more of it so he doubles down on the curl of his fingers and the flick of his tongue. 

You can’t help but whimper and whine for him, this glorious, faceless man who sounds like your hopeless crush. He is so intent on your pleasure. Not a few passive licks to say he ate pussy, but this man treats your cunt like a five star meal. Devouring you like it would save the world. 

Marcus moans into the folds. Feeling the arousal leaking out from around his fingers and sliding down the valley of this woman’s crack and literally dripping onto his cock where he is poised underneath the void of the table. It’s incredible and he wants more. He wants to feel and hear her cum. To have her break apart because of him. 

You shudder and moan, practically shaking as you experience the way this gorgeously talented man works your body. Playing it like it is his personal instrument, one he has fine-tuned over decades. His thick, generously long fingers press deep and his tongue suckles on your clit again, making you wail out a wordless sound as you start to cum. 

For a split second, he wishes he could see her face. To watch her mouth drop open before that delicious cry sounds out. Does she throw her head back? Are her eyes closed or blown wide? Those are the questions he wants answers as the walls start to spasm around his fingers, making him moan again. 

He works you through it. Softening his mouth and fingers as he guides you through the most blissful orgasm you’ve had in years. Until your thighs stop shaking and his fingers are still inside you. 

“Good girl, fuck you’re so good to me.” Marcus pants, nearly ready to cum himself as he slowly pulls his fingers out of the little hole they were buried in. “Always so good.” His fingers are coated in arousal and the thin strands web between his fingers and that perfect cunt. Stretching thin before finally breaking apart. She had cum. 

“Can I fuck you, sweetheart?” It’s amazing how that request always makes your heart skip a beat. Asking after giving so much pleasure. Seeking out approval even though you are laying exposed for his pleasure. Fuck, you wish this was Marcus Moreno. It would solidify him as the complete hero in your mind. “Please.”

Marcus groans, immediately shuffling to stand. Her plea sounds so desperate. Like she needs him inside her and it feeds into a core desire. To be wanted. He has covered his cock in her arousal and he pumps it, peeling the foreskin back to press the head against her clit. 

Your toes curl, flexing in anticipation as he slowly slides his cock through your cum slick folds. Again, you envision Marcus. Disheveled and flushed with desire, looking down at your cunt like it’s Heaven. You try to roll your hips down, but the stirrups don’t allow for much movement and there is no way you would pull back now. 

The first inch is slow. Easing in and groaning over the wetness, the heat. Controlling himself for a moment before the threads of control snap and he’s lost to the sensation. 

Your cry is one of pleasure, mixed with the best kind of pain when he snaps his hips forward. “Fuck.” You clench when his voice drops. That honey rough voice turning to a snarl, like he’s lost control. “Fuck, fuck, sweetheart. Gonna tear this pussy up.”

He grabs her hips, using them for purchase as he draws his hips back to fill you again. Over and over, he buries his cock into the most perfect cunt he’s had since his wife. Feeling the walls stretch and give to his harsh thrusts. 

All you can do is take. Take it and vocalize how good it feels. Your moans and cries are pushed out of you as he drills into you. Spearing his cock into you at a pace that leaves you breathless. 

Here is where he can lose himself. The weight of the world falls off his shoulders as his hips jackhammer forward again and again. All the worries he carries are gone as he buries his cock into that clenching, squeezing little hole. Listening to her sweet sounds as he fucks her. 

Your fingers claw your tits, biting your lip to keep from screaming too loud when he finds the sweet spot and dials in on it. Hitting it again and again without fail as he rocks into you brutally. You’ll be sore. You’ll feel him for days and you wish it was Marcus. Knowing his secrets that while he might be a hero, he fucks like a sinner. 

“Soo good, so sweet.” He grunts, sweat dripping down his brow. “Fucking tight little cunt, taking me.” He hisses as he rocks up into the balls of his feet, feeling that sensation in the base of his spine. He’s getting close. 

Your moans have turned into one long continuous one. His breakneck pace is almost impossible to take and yet you're gasping out when you feel a thumb on your clit. Rubbing tight, harsh circles on the sensitive bean. 

“Cum for me.” He pants out. “One more, give me one more, sweetheart.” He wants her to cum again. The best feeling in the world is cumming with your lover. Even if he can’t see her face, he wants to feel her orgasm. 

His command opens the floodgates. Your heels digging into the stirrups while your back arches up. Walls clamping down around his cock, Marcus’s cock and you’re relieved when you just cry out wordlessly instead of shouting his name.

It’s another couple of thrusts, feeling his balls pull tight against his body before he’s pushing deep. Rocking his hips with shallow, grinding thrusts as he pumps that quivering pussy full of his load. Painting her walls with ropes of his hot seed and moaning quietly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You whimper when he stops moving, just throbbing inside you and you see that exhausted smile on Marcus’s face. The one he always gives at the end of a battle when the world is safe once more. This time, it’s just for you. A private, blissed out smile that has you smile to yourself on the other side of the partition. 

Marcus eases out of the pussy, watching as his cum starts to well up and slowly drip out as his cock softens. Coated in her juices and more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Since the last time he was here. Reaching out, he runs a finger through his cum, making her shiver as he smiles tiredly. He’s so fucking grateful he found The Hole and room 417. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

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

[pedroshotwifey]

Christmas Countdown Day 10 - Marcus Moreno

Insatiable

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x afab!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, sex pollen trope, multiple orgasms (f&m), shower sex, piv sex, not beta'd, stuff i'm forgetting

Summary: Marcus comes home from work in need of some help

A/N: Sorry this is late today guys. I'm going to go ahead and get started on tomorrow's, so hopefully that will be on time. I know this countdown isn't getting much attention atm, but to the handful of you who read it everyday, I love you and thank you for putting up with me <3

***

You’re just rinsing your body when you hear the bathroom door open. 

“Baby?” 

Your eyes widen in concern as you hear Marcus call for you, his voice frantic and strained like he’s in pain. All at once, a million scenarios cross your mind. He could be bleeding out where he stands right now. In his line of work, you just never know. 

In a flash, you’re throwing open the shower door and stepping out. 

“Marcus?” You ask, just as frantic as your anxiety gets the best of you. 

As soon as your feet touch the bathroom floor, you’re being shoved back into the warm spray of the shower. 

“Nu-uh–get–shower, get back in–”

You stumble back, per his request as he wraps himself around you and forces you in. His skin is burning up and he’s still fully dressed as he gets in with you. His lips crash against yours as soon as he’s close enough. 

You shake your head and try to shove him back, your concern growing with every second. 

“Marcus, stop,” you say, your voice shaky. “Wh-what the fuck is going on?” 

“Please, baby, nee–ungh–need you, please,” Marcus’s words come out fast and whiny as he reaches for his belt buckle, his fingers fumbling as he tries to undo it in a rush. 

You stare at him with a shocked expression. Clearly, he’s fine, other than the fact that he feels like he’s running about a thousand degrees over what he should be. As soon as he manages to get his belt free and his zipper down, his cock springs up.

Okay, well fuck. Maybe he’s not fine. His dick is fucking massive—more so than usual anyway. It’s about two inches longer than his normal seven, and the girth looks to be almost twice what it usually is. It’s visibly throbbing, the tip a furious deep red. 

Precum dribbles down his solid shaft, catching here and there on the over-pronounced veins to pool in the hair at the base of his monstrous cock. 

Your jaw drops as you look back up into his eyes, and he stares right back at you, a look of desperation, fear, and lust within his own. He brings his hand to his dick, unable to help himself, as if it causes him great pain with each moment he’s not touching it.

“P-please, baby, help,” he pleads, his eyes watering. 

You’re about to tell him that he’s not coming anywhere near you with that thing, when he lets out a strangled sob. His cock twitches and he just about doubles over. 

“It–work–I–there was–ah–this dust-” He can barely get a sentence out. Fuck. You have to help him, you know you do. But how in hell are you going to fit that thing anywhere?

You look at him, licking your lips nervously. His button-up shirt and nice slacks are clinging to his skin the same way his hair sticks to his forehead. His eyes are pleading and ashamed as he continues to tug on his cock at a harsh pace. 

Steeling yourself, you turn around and plant your palms on the shower wall. As soon as you do so, Marcus is on you.

“Thank you, baby, thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

“Just–ah!” you gasp when you feel his engorged tip at your entrance. “Just be gentle, please,” you say, closing your eyes and trying to relax. As much as it may help right now, Marcus might not be able to wait long enough to warm you up. You’ll just have to take it. 

You know you can, you have to. You don’t know what kind of long term effects could come from something like this. Especially if it’s something he picked up on a job. You’ve heard things about a new drug that causes a person to react like this, and if that’s what it is, it means certain death for the affected person if their needs are not satisfied. 

Though you can’t be sure if he’s been affected by such a thing, there's no way in hell you’re going to risk it. 

Marcus begins to thrust up, starting to part your walls to accommodate him. He lets out a breathy whine as he does so, just the slightest bit of relief enough to satiate the pain for a second. 

You wince slightly and your knees buckle once he gets about an inch in, the girthy feeling almost too much. Marcus has his hands planted firmly on your bare hips, and you grip one forearm for a bit more stability.

“I know, baby,” he groans as your nails dig into his skin. “So good to me, you’re okay, jus’ lemme...”

He feeds you another few inches, so a little more than half of him is squeezed into you. You let out a whimper, the fullness unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Marcus is trembling behind you, placing his lips on your neck to leave sloppy kisses. 

Just as it feels like it’s going to start getting painful, he groans loudly and grips you tight before you feel a hot spurt of something fill your cunt–his cum, you realize with a gasp. The intrusion allows him to slip the rest of his still hard cock into you. 

He shoves it all at once, hitting your cervix as he bottoms out. You let out a scream at the same time he groans. He only holds still for a second, and then he’s sliding in and out of you at a brutal pace, the force of his thrusts keeping you on your toes. 

It’s not long before that familiar warm feeling is taking over your entire body, making you shake and your mind grow fuzzy. You’re so close. 

“M-Marcus, please touch my clit,” you beg as you grind your ass into him. 

He obeys, immediately dragging one hand down to rub at your clit, which just as quickly sets your orgasm off. He fucks you through it, slamming into you like an animal. 

You moan loudly as your cunt convulses around him, your eyes closing and your jaw going slack. If Marcus wasn’t holding you up, you would have fallen to the shower floor. 

His cock starts to twitch within you, and you can sense that he’s close too. A few thrusts later, he’s shooting his seed into you again as he bites down on your shoulder. 

You shout as he does so, but the pain mixed with the feeling of his cum spurting in thick ropes all over your walls triggers your second orgasm, so quick to your fist that it seems like it’s just one. 

The two of you seem to melt into one another as the pleasure completely takes over you. By the time you come down from your highs, you’re both panting and leaning on one another. 

Marcus moves, and you assume he’s going to pull out until you feel him thrust up gently. His hard tip nudges your sore g-spot, making your eyes widen. You’re already exhausted, but Marcus shows absolutely no sign of slowing down any time soon.

It’s going to be a long night.

*** Thank you for reading. Please let me know if you want to join the countdown tag list.

FOTJC: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @magpiepills @exquisiteserotonin @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @theywhowriteandknowthings @nerdieforpedro @maggiemayhemnj @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ghostofaboy @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

WCC:  @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian

Link to prompt list

#friends of the juice collective #pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #marcus moreno #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you

[secretly-dum]

Can I request a fanfic with Marcus Moreno having him be real needy of you cause you haven't had sex in a month, and now that Missy went to a sleepover at her friend's house he wants to make use of that time, you get to decide other things (who tops, etc) :)

Make Love For Lost Time

pairing: Marcus Moreno x male!reader

genre: smut

summary: read request :)

warning/contents: rough sex, anal sex, cumming inside/breeding, marking/biting, mentions of Y/N.

additional notes: SORRY FOR THIS TAKING SO LONG I was so busy this week 😭😭

Remember, reblogging > liking !!

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

You walked into Marcus’s house with the extra key he put under the mat just for you. Closing the door, you said his name.

“Marcus..?” You yelled out again, and heard steps coming down the stairs.

“Y/N…uh hey! Didn’t think you would be here so soon.” He said, kissing you a bit longer than usual.

“Yeah me either, I got off of work early though. Where’s Missy?”

“She’s at a friends house, for a…uhm sleepover. I’m glad you’re here…missed you a lot.” Marcus said like he was distracted. He looked at you, his eyes taking in all of you. He grabbed your sides, staring at your lips. You caught the idea of what he wanted to do, and you kissed him, right hand moving to grab his hair.

“You really missed me that much?” You say seductively, lust in your voice.

“Missed you so bad, only thing I thought about today was when you would come home.” He said kissing your neck.

“Has it really been that long?”

“It’s been a month, please, I need you so bad.”

“I guess we can make up for that time.” You softly pushed Marcus against the wall, biting the sensitive spot on his neck and licking it afterwards. Marcus earned with a beautiful moan, his grasp on your hips tightening. He muttered a small “P-Please” and that was enough for you. Leading Marcus to his room, you kept your eyes on him.

“On the bed, now.” You said in a stern but soft voice. He put himself on the bed in a quick manner. You went on top of him.

“Y-Y/N…” He said desperately.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” Your hands went from Marcus’s neck to his crotch, and you slowly unzipped his pants. He whined from how slow you were and you chuckled in response. You pushed his pants and boxers down, his cock dripping with precum, the tip tinted with a soft pink. You went down and licked up the precum, a moan came out of Marcus. You quickly undressed yourself and took off his shirt, trailing kissed down his chest.

“I…hurry…need you..”

“Hm?”

“F-Fill me up please.”

He grabbed the lube from the dresser next to the bed and gave it to you.

“No condom? Are you sure baby?”

He bit his lip and nodded, smiling at you with blush in his face. You smiled back as you put lube over your cock, groaning at the small pleasure. It caused Marcus to get a little excited. You lined your cock to his hole and slowly thrusted your tip in, his tight walls taking you in so well. He moaned as your dick continued to go inside him.

“Fuck, Marcus you feel so good. Taking me in so good.” You praise him as you slowly sped up, his small noises turning louder. You thrusted faster into him and he continued to moan.

“Faster please~” He begged, and your thrusts went faster, hitting his spot again. He kept whimpering and you swore you could get drunk off of those sounds.

“So tight, just for me huh?” You said to his ear.

“J-Just for you!” Marcus moaned out, and you quickened your pace and got closer to your high. Pornographic noises fell out of his mouth, and you started to give him marks on his neck that would definitely be seen afterwards.

“M-Marcus, I’m so close, fuck, keep being so good for me.” He nodded as you thrusted faster and harder into his prostate chasing your high. All of a sudden, he yelled out your name and you groaned loudly as you came inside him, he whimpered when he felt your warmness slowly slip out of him. You watched your cum drip down from his hole.

“How was that?” You asked once Marcus caught his breath.

“That was amazing.” He said looking at you with love in his eyes. You both giggled and got off the bed to take a shower.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

#marcus moreno x male reader #marcus moreno x male!reader #marcus moreno x male reader smut #marcus moreno x reader smut #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #gay

[pedropascalsx]

Unexpected {Marcus Moreno x F! Reader}

Summary: Marcus accidentally attaches the wrong the file to an email he’s sending you for work, but will he get to you before you open it? (no, the answer is no.)

Warnings: The has like no plot? It was hastily written and I’ve never ever written Marcus Moreno before so I probably didn’t do him justice!!!! Oral (F) receiving, Male Masturbation, Video of Sex act, P in V sex, Handjob, Dirty Talk, Come eating and just general filth.

no physical descriptions of reader but she blushes a few times throughout the story!

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Fuck. I don’t even know. I am sorry??? It’s just porn really. Badly written porn. Thanks to @djarinispunkk for beta’ing

And thank you to @whataperfectwasteoftime @honestly-shite @absurdthirst and @radiowallet for being so supportive of this story i really struggled with!!! i love you guys.

The whoosh that signalled the email he had spent hours compiling had been sent made Marcus breathe a sigh of relief. The upcoming mission that the two of you would be spending weeks on was finally coming together, and he couldn’t wait to get stuck in.

*

(1) New Email from Marcus Moreno.

“Ah, finally,” you said with a slight giggle, “What have you sent me this time, Mr Moreno?”

You started skimming through the message, each day meticulously planned and detailed. You made a mental note to re-read it more carefully when you were home, away from the general hubbub of the office.

“Seven attachments? Really Marcus?” you murmured as you clicked through the first few, the first being an itinerary and the second being a map that marked each place you would be staking out or investigating. Your phone lit up with a text from your best friend as you idly clicked on the third attachment, paying no attention to the image that flicked up on your screen. You started to punch out a reply to the message confirming your plans with her this weekend and that’s when you heard it.

A throaty groan.

Your eyes flashed back up to the screen, and you watched open-mouthed as a video of Marcus stroking his cock played out in front of you, his sinful groans providing the soundtrack to the filthy movie you were utterly consumed by.

The second it stopped, you had to stop yourself from replaying it, the fact it was clearly sent by error making you feel overcome by guilt as your fingers hovered over the play button.

The image of the cock that you’d imagined railing into you more times than you cared to admit burned in your head as you felt arousal dripping into your panties.

“Fuck,” you murmured, as the urge to press play grew stronger. ‘Once more and then i’ll delete it,’ you whispered to yourself as you plugged your earphones into the speaker jack.

The sight of Marcus swiping his thumb against the weeping tip of his rock hard cock and spreading the bead of pre-cum down his length rips a moan from your throat, and before you know it, your hand is travelling down the length of your body and pulling up your skirt.

The short video replays on a loop as you circle your clit with vigor, teeth digging into your bottom lip as your orgasm grows closer and closer.

*

Marcus glances up at the screen as he decides to give the already sent email one last look over; he knows he’s been thorough and that everything is ready to go but always the perfectionist, he just can’t help himself.

“Hands.vid?” he says out loud as he scrolls through the attachments, “Why did it save as a video?”

Shit. He glances across at the external harddrive plugged into his computer and the realisation hits him like a tonne of bricks. With tentative hands he clicks the attachment and the sight of his hands laced around his hard cock flashes up and he slams his laptop shut and immediately runs down to your office, telling himself over and over that you probably hadn’t had a chance to open the email yet and that he could delete it before you could.

He doesn’t knock, he doesn’t think to knock, instead he pushes open the door of your office and lets himself in. He’s greeted by the sight of you leaning back on your office chair, eyes shut tight with a blissed out look etched across your face and your hand cupping your pussy.

“Fuck,” he groans, and your eyes immediately fly open, “Is this… is this because of the video?” he asks as his eyes continue burning into your core. The sight of your fingers glistening with your arousal makes his cock twitch in his pants.

You can feel the burning flush of embarrassment spreading across your cheeks; you’re not sure what to do, but you can’t ignore the way he’s staring at you, clearly enjoying the view. The sight of your bare pussy spread and your fingers dripping with your own arousal, the sound of his groans still playing through your earphones as the video continues to play on a loop on your laptop.

“Answer me,” he says quietly, “Is this because of the video?”

“Yes,” you blurt out, “I’m so sorr-..”

“Sssh,” he soothes as he takes three long strides towards you, reaching over your desk, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his face, “You’re soaked.” He says with an amused grin before pulling your fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean of your arousal.

“Marcus,” you moan as releases them with a pop, “Fuck.”

“I was going to come in here and delete the email. I was going to pretend that I sent you an email meant for someone else… but fuck. I’m glad I didn’t make it in time,” he says as he lets go of your hand, walking around your desk and stopping in front of you, “So many times, I’ve thought about what this pretty little pussy would look like, feel like… taste like” he says as he silently drops down to his knees, “Fucked my fist thinking about you coming onto my tongue so many times. Can I, sweetheart?” he says as his palms rest on your thighs, “Can I make this pretty little pussy come on my tongue?”

Is this real? Is this really really really real? you think to yourself as you look down at your boss. Marcus Moreno. The leader of the Heroics. One of your closest friends and the man you’ve been harbouring a massive crush on since you first entered through those doors a year ago. Is he really kneeling in front of you, staring up at you with those big brown eyes asking if he can lick your pussy?

“Yes” you croak out as he slowly circles the soft flesh of your thighs, “Oh, yes please, Marcus,” you beg.

A groan of pleasure rips from Marcus into your core, as he starts to lap up your arousal, flattening his tongue and swiping it through your folds and then pushing it inside your pussy. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced; you’ve had guys go down on you before, but it’s usually just quickly to get you ready. This… this is extraordinary.

He fucks his tongue in and out of you, his nose swiping against your clit as he does so and you can’t help but entangle your fingers in his hair.

“Fuck, Marcus,” you moan, “You’re fucking in-incredible. And fuck. Your cock… Fuck Marcus, it’s so fucking thick. That video is.. holy shit,” your words are cut off by your own moaning, the feeling of Marcus sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue building you closer and closer. It’s only when he pushes two of his thick fingers inside of you that you cum, biting down on your lip so hard that the tang of blood coats your tastebuds.

“Good girl,” he praises after letting go of your clit, his fingers still buried inside of you, “You taste divine.”

He slowly removes his fingers from your cunt and moves them up to your lips, “I want you to taste how fucking delicious you are,” he says, before pushing them between your lips. The weight of his fingers on your tongue makes you yearn for something more, the thought of him standing up and claiming your mouth makes you clench and suck harder around his fingers. You note the way his eyebrow slightly raises as you do so.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, pretty girl,” he commands as he pumps his fingers in and out of your mouth slightly, before pulling them out completely.

“I want you to fuck my throat,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I want you to take whatever you want from me.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, “Later. I have the house to myself tonight and the thought of those pretty lips wrapped around my cock is fucking heavenly. But, right now, I want to bury myself in that gorgeous pussy.”

He stands up and slowly starts to unbuckle his belt, growing impatient after a few seconds and ripping it out of the belt loops. He places it down on your desk, his fingers lingering over his button before his hands drop down to his sides.

“Take out my cock,” he orders, “Show me how much you like it.”

You don’t hesitate. You immediately work on freeing him, popping the button and pulling his zipper down before shoving his pants down his legs. Your breath hitches at the sight of his rock hard cock throbbing in his boxers, and your fingertips dip into the waistband of them. You gulp as his cock bounces free, thick and leaking as it hangs between his legs. You move forward on your seat and grip the base of it with both hands, looking up at him as you bring the tip of him to your mouth and spit on him. You bring one of your hands up and begin smear his length with your spit before you start to pump him, and your cunt clenches around nothing when he gifts you with a groan, the sound travelling straight to your still pulsating clit.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “You like this? You like stroking my cock in your office?” His breath hitches as you squeeze tighter, “Look at those pretty little hands, they barely can fit around it.”

He grunts one more time before clasping his hands around yours. “If I bend you over this desk and fuck you with it, are you going to be able to keep that pretty little mouth quiet enough so no one catches us?”

You nod ferociously at the thought of him splitting you open on your desk, and without another word you stand up and position yourself over your desk. You look over your shoulder and watch as Marcus strokes his cock languidly whilst clearly enjoying the view of your glistening cunt, still dripping and waiting desperately to be filled.

“This is going to be hard and fast,” he murmurs as he lines himself up with you, gently pushing in the tip and smirking at the gasp you let out at the stretch of him. “Going to make you sit here dripping with my cum and lick it out of you when I get you back to mine later,” he teases as he starts to inch himself into you, loving the way your pussy is already fluttering and clamping down around him.

Fuck. He’s thick. Like really thick, you think to yourself as he completely sheaths himself into you, leaning down to pepper your neck with kisses as you get used to the fullness of him.

“Move,” you stutter after a few seconds, the need to feel him thrusting in and out of you growing stronger as his fingertips find your bundle of nerves, “Fuck me, Marcus.”

The pace he sets is indescribable, each thrust dragging against something devastatingly delicious inside of you, one of his hands pressed firmly against your mouth as you unconsciously spew a never-ending stream of moans. Two of your fingers replace his on your clit as he demands you continue rubbing it as he uses his free hand to grip your hip, pounding in and out of your heat with as much intensity as he can muster. The feeling of his cock nestled in your tight warm cunt makes him shudder in delight, and he knows he won't be lasting much longer. You rub your clit faster as your orgasm builds, and you hear Marcus hiss as you clamp down tight on around his cock before white hot pleasure explodes behind your eyes. Everything goes black and you start convulse with pleasure; you feel him continuing to pound in and out as you ride out your orgasm.

The room is filled with the sound of your pussy squelching as he thrusts in and out, his own groans growing louder as he begins to paint your walls with thick ropes of his cum.

His orgasm lasts a while, and with each thrust he fills you up more and more. When he finally finishes, he kisses your neck before pulling himself out of you.

His hands massage the full globes of your ass as he admires the image of your cunt dripping with your combined release; with two of his thick fingers he gathers up his spend that had leaked out of you and pushes it back inside.

“Keep it inside of you, and I'll keep my promise to lick it out later.” he says as he helps you back into your panties.

You pull them up and readjust your skirt and he tucks himself back inside his own pants.

You both stare at each other for a few moments as the significance of what just happened hits you both and you begin to blush a rosy pink as he scratches the back of his neck.

“That was…. unexpected,” he says after a while, “It was fucking fantastic but… unexpected.”

You agree with a nod and an awkward giggle.

“Look, I didn’t mean to attach that video,” he says as he rubs his chin, “My harddrive was attached to my computer and I was supposed to attach the handover sheet and I clicked that file that said hand clearly not paying enough attention. I am sorry.”

“Are you?” you reply a little quicker than you’re expecting to, “Are you sorry for what just happened?”

Marcus looks at you with those gorgeous puppy dog eyes and fights off a cheeky grin, “Not at all, but I don’t want you thinking this was planned or anything.”

“I don’t,” you say with a smile, “And for what it’s worth, I don’t regret it either. Been wanting you since the first day I saw you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Marcus. Fuck. You’re gorgeous, you’re sweet and you’re so funny. I would be crazy not to want you,” you admit with a sheepish grin.

He blushes, he actually blushes, and you feel your heart just about melt in your chest. “Dinner after work? I think I also made a few promises I’d quite like to keep, if you want me to?”

“Dinner sounds perfect. And so does whatever you have planned for afterwards.”

“Excellent. I’ll meet you in the lobby?” He says as he walks towards the door and opens it, “Take you somewhere that’ll replenish your energy. You’re going to need it.”

#pedro pascal #marcus moreno #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fanfiction #marcus moreno x ofc #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x y/n #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno x female reader #my fanfiction #my fanfic #marcus moreno smut

[sugadolly]

seducing a guilty, apologetic older marcus 🫠🫠 who knows it's wrong because it's unprofessional but you continue to flirt with him anyways <3 he would look so cute all flustered..

#but !!! don't let those soft brown eyes fool you >:) #he might make you regret for playing this game with him hehehe #marcus moreno #pedro pascal characters #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #marcus moreno smut

[boliv-jenta]

Okay

With One Minute to Spare

Do It Yourself

New Year's Eve Drabbles

#bolivjenta masterlist #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fluff #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[morallyinept]

Heyday Hero - A Valentine's Story - Mature!Marcus Moreno

This is a story set in the Heyday Hero Universe. You might wanna read that one first if you haven't already.

Summary: Marcus pulls out all the stops to make your first Valentine's Day together really super!

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

Word Count: 7.2k

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

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Both Marcus & Reader have REAL bodies, and very real middle age spread/coming to terms with ageing & feeling obsolete.

Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/fingering - Marcus has superpower hands⚡️/lots of kissing/schmaltzy romance/Marcus doesn't fuck, he makes love/all the flowers and pancake mush you can swallow/Marcus being the perfect, romantic fool

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

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies! 🥰 I just had to revisit these two love birds on this heart day. Love you all so much! 😘

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

HEYDAY HERO <- Main Story

Enjoy! 🖤

The early morning Austin sun casts a warm glow over Marcus's garden as he ambles among the clusters of vibrant blooms swaying gently in the Texan breeze. 

Clipping blush peonies with thoughtful precision, his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Missy and you; the two women in his life showering him with more love in abundance than he could ever wish for. 

Fragrant petals whisper to him in the gentle flurry, carrying the promise of a special day he’s woken up to. A day that, for so long, had seemed so mundane - another day ending in a Y. So pointlessly lonely. Just ordinary in his solace without a partner to share the topical mushiness with, even if it was rife with capitalist sentiment sponsored by the fat cats at Hallmark. 

Lost in contemplation as he prunes and snips at stems, Marcus's thoughts are a blend of affection and giddy anticipation, and he can’t wait to see his daughter smile as she inhales in the perfumed fragrance of the florals he’s chosen just for her.

Despite the lack of a romantic partner since the passing of his wife and Missy's mother, his Valentine’s Days since were about showering Missy with love and appreciation, something that she initially resisted, stomping into her unruly teens and it being branded “uncool” to spend time with her father fussing over her as she was reaching maturity.

But he still upheld that tradition nonetheless.

Now a headstrong woman in her thirties, she could appreciate that effort and often sought it out willingly as she would snuggle in closer to him when watching a movie together after a hard day of fighting the world’s enemies and threats, and he would smile as she fell asleep snoring into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and subsequently leaving a patch of drool on it.

But as much as the superhero father-daughter duo loved one another, Marcus missed the companionship of a partner he could shower with hopelessly romantic sentiment and love of a more intimate kind.

That was until he met you.  

Over the course of the last six months, yours and Marcus’s relationship has bloomed and flourished, much like his garden, evolving into a softly hedonistic timeline woven with shared experiences, laughter, and genuine affection. 

Despite the exciting journey you’re both on, you both carry unspoken anxieties that occasionally cast shadows on the picturesque canvas of your budding romance.

Your dates were a delightfully regular mix of adventures - whether exploring museums, cozying up at home with a homemade dinner and a classic movie, or exploring the wonderland of nature.

And Marcus still can’t get your first meeting out of his mind. The date that solidified it all for him.

He was mesmerised by you, and still is, fearing some days he’ll wake up and realise it’s all been some wondrous dream where he subconsciously created and crafted you from the moulds of his inert loneliness. 

He glances over to the sun loungers by the pool, and his cock pulls tight in his jeans, remembering the two of you sat in one together, listening to your words as you read from your book to him, only a few days ago as the sun set into a fiery orange sky.

He can smell the scent of your skin again now as the tepid heat warmed it as he had you in his arms, basking in the dying rays as he buried himself inside of you from behind. His nose running tracks against the back of your neck as his fingers drew circles on your clit, bringing you to soaring heights without ever leaving the ground.

With the book discarded to the patio, his big hands were resting and stroking on the crinkles of your tummy skin as he whispered how beautiful you are, nipping on your earlobe as the sky blushed above you, an expansive voyeur to your lovemaking.

The gentle, yet enthusiastic, pace of your relationship allows you to savour each moment, creating a foundation of tentative understanding and trust. Yet, as the seasons change, the passage of time invokes subtle insecurities that bleed in uninvited.

It’s human nature, he supposes. Marcus, a retired superhero, whose body had once effortlessly defied gravity, now finds himself grappling with the harsh realities of ageing. The occasional ache and stiffness serve as reminders of the physical toll his heroic past has taken on him.

You, too, are confronted with your own insecurities when you stand in front of the mirror, naked after a shower, and notice things aren't as supple or as perky as they used to be. The mirage of eternal youth begins to dissipate, sands falling in the glass, replaced by the acknowledgement of lines that trace the stories of your laughter, and the gradual changes of a sinking gravity that comes with the eventual movement of time.

As the months towards his retirement from the Heroics had unfolded, Marcus began to notice the subtle changes in his body - the creaky echoes of years spent in the pursuit of justice. The once effortless movements that defined his superhero heydays were now accompanied by a quiet reminder of the toll taken on his physical form. 

Morning stiffness became a familiar companion as Marcus greeted the dawn - a stiffness of a different, less exciting kind.

The pops in his joints were like a cacophony of irritating reminders, a natural clicking chorus that played out, despite him being an unwilling conductor, as he rose from his bed. Aches manifested in areas that once bore the brunt of intense physical exertion.

His shoulders, which had once easily carried the weight of the world, now bore the imprints of past struggles. Welted, faded scars of times when he came close to exchanging his life so others could live, adorned him. White, little lines of jagged lightning against the golden skin that you would run your fingers or tongue over, bringing about a sensual healing in the layers of his marred epidermis with your explorative and worshipping ministrations.  

On some days, Marcus found himself pausing to stretch, a conscious effort to ease the tightness that settled into his muscles. The warm-up routine, once a prelude to high-flying acrobatic adventures, now became a ritual to navigate the nuances of a body shaped by years of gritty heroism.

Yet, despite the stark, physical reminders of ageing, Marcus approached each day with resilience and a quiet acceptance. The aches were not signals of defeat but rather markers of a life well-lived, a testament to the now grey hero who had faced challenges head-on and emerged with stories of grandeur etched into the fabric of his being. 

Observant and empathetic, you stood by Marcus's side as he navigated these physical aches and pains on the mornings you woke up together.

Your gentle massages and understanding glances spoke volumes, creating a space where the vulnerabilities of ageing became threads that wove you both closer together. 

He thinks back to the way your hands glide over his body and soon distract him from the aches to another ache weighing heavy between his legs. The more pleasant vareity of morning stiffness.

His ears are soon filled with your gasps and moans as he zones out under the morning sun, thinking back to mornings waking with you wrapped around him as he slipped inside you and worked you both out. 

In that tranquil corner of the garden, surrounded by the coveted peace of nature, Marcus confronts the uncertainties, but the happiness he feels quells any of that self-doubt in an instance. 

The kitchen, the epicentre of Marcus’s world now, soon becomes a hub of activity as Marcus sets about creating a special morning feast on the day of San Valentín.

The aroma of homemade pancakes fills the air, mingling with the scents of freshly brewed coffee and tarte fruity berries. The vase of peonies adorns the table, adding a touch of colour to the special breakfast spread he’s prepared all morning with love and care.

As Missy enters the kitchen, hair damp and bedraggled, the mild surprise melting away the sleep in her battered eyes, Marcus can't help but beam.

"Happy Valentine's Day, kiddo," he says, presenting her with the hand-cut bouquet.

Missy's eyes light up with unbridled joy as she accepts the vase of flowers with a kiss on the side of his fuzzy face. "Dad, these are beautiful. Thank you."

“Only the best for my muñeca. Sit, I made you some breakfast.” (Doll.)

“You’re not having breakfast with your lovely lady?”

“We’re spending the rest of the day together. I've made plans.” His eyes light up as he says it, pouring out hot coffee.

"Sneaky." Missy smirks.

“This morning is just for you and me.”

“Makes a change not to see you two half-naked and draped all over each other. You know, these walls are paper thin.”

“Shut up.” Marcus says, evidently blushing. 

“I ought to file a complaint, I’m sure it violates some building code… loud noises.”

“Or you could just stay at your place?” He suggests with a grin.

“Pffft. That’ll never happen.”

In the days leading up to Missy and you meeting for the first time - which was inevitable really considering how often your paths had almost crossed with Missy using her key at any God given time of day - Marcus hadn’t been able to shake a lingering sense of angst. He found himself caught in the crossroads of two important relationships intermingling in his life, and the fear of you both not getting along tugged at the edges of his erratic thoughts. 

As he’d prepared the house for your official get-together, Marcus couldn't help but second guess his decision. What if you didn't hit it off? The worry gnawed at him, the uncertainty of your connection becoming a lead weight on his broad shoulders and making him feel somewhat nauseous at the prospect of facing a choice.

He tried to distract himself with preparations, arranging a small dinner, which soon became over the top due to the stress-cooking that ensued, and ensuring the atmosphere was comfortable. 

But every now and then, a wave of anxiety washed over him despite Missy reminding him that he was worrying over nothing. 

If she makes you this goofy, Dad, then I already love her… Missy'd remarked as he clattered about clumsily with pans. 

When the hour finally arrived, Marcus did his best to hide his apprehension despite his squally gut. As Missy and you exchanged greetings, he observed your interactions with a hopeful, yet anxious, heart.

The initial moments were filled with small talk, and Marcus found himself holding his breath, waiting for a sign that you were connecting, and shucking in deep breaths of oxygen when you subtly reminded him to breathe, observing him turn a shade of purple and giving his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

Of course, Marcus needn't have worried - Missy and you got on like a house on fire.

Laughter began to flow naturally, and conversations unfolded effortlessly. The tension in Marcus's shoulders eased as he witnessed his daughter and new partner finding common ground, especially in teasing him, it appeared.

Marcus smirks as he places a plate under Missy’s nose. 

“Heart-shaped, chocolate chip pancakes? You trying to woo me, Dad?”

“Just showing the love for my amazing daughter.” 

“Why, what are you after?” Smiling, she pours the raspberry syrup over the stack.

“Nothing. Just want you to know how special you are to me is all.” He mumbles quietly with pink cheeks frazzling under his thick rimmed specs.

"Your love is causing me to gain five pounds." She muses.

“What’s that?” He asks, nodding over to the skin on her shoulder now revealed as she ties back her hair.

She glances down at the rather large and angry bruise and back at her father’s concerned eyes. 

“I can handle it, Dad.” She reminds him as he visibly tenses. 

“I know. But I’m always going to worry. Even if you are a Moreno badass.” 

She laughs and then sighs, pulling her cardigan on and covering up the bruise. “Comes with the territory, right?"

He nods, sadly. "It does."

Missy picks up her fork to dig in and then hesitates. "Did you... did you ever have those days when you thought about throwing in the towel?”

Marcus nods again. “All the time.”

As Marcus reminisces about his past, memories of battles lost and wounds endured flood his mind like unwelcome guests crashing a solemn reunion. There were moments etched in his memory with the vividness of fresh lacerations - times when victory had slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving behind scars that ran deeper than mere flesh and bone.

“How did you keep going? How did you… find the strength?” She sighs and Marcus can only helplessly observe the features of her own face, young, but carrying that weight of the world is starting to age her quicker than he would like.

He remembers the deafening roar of explosions echoing in the night as he fought valiantly against insurmountable odds, only to find himself battered and broken, his spirit and pride bruised more than his body.

There were battles where the enemy's strength seemed limitless, where every blow landed with the force of a freight train, threatening to crush his resolve beneath its weight.

In the aftermath of defeat, Marcus found himself questioning everything he had once believed in. The wounds he bore were not just physical; they were a reflection of the doubts and insecurities that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

He considered putting away his katanas many, many times, walking away from the life of a hero and leaving behind the chaos and destruction that seemed to follow in his wake.

But even in the darkest moments of despair, a flicker of hope remained - a stubborn ember that refused to be extinguished. It was the memory of those he had sworn to protect, the faces of innocence that haunted his dreams and whispered words of encouragement in the depths of his despair mid-fight.

Marcus leans over the counter on his arms and pinches a raspberry from Missy’s plate. 

“For you. I wanted to make the world a better place for you to grow up in. Safe.”

Missy smiles like a dim bulb about to burn out as she eats. “You did a pretty good job of that, Dad. I've had some big shoes to fill.”

He smiles, running his tongue around the raspberry pips now lodged in his teeth. 

“You’re doing great, kiddo.”

He reaches for another raspberry and she bats his hand away as he chuckles. 

“You know, you’re the only man who's ever gotten me flowers…” She says a few minutes later, eyeing the fluffy heads with a slight dip on her face, and Marcus can’t help but furrow his brow in unison.

Missy looks up at her father with twinkly eyes that mirror the melting chips in the pancakes. “I love you. You know that, right?” 

“Te quiero mucho, mucho.” (I love you very, very much.) He nods as they eat together. 

“I should get going-” Missy states after she finishes her plate, which only seems to be after a few hefty shovels.

“No, stay.”

“As much as I love being a third wheel, it’s Valentine’s Day.” She reminds him. 

“Hey.” Marcus takes her elbow gently. “You know this is your home, you're always welcome here, no matter what. I always want you here.”

“I know. But you guys should do the whole love thing today. Alone.” 

“What about you?” He asks, concerned at the thought of Missy sitting alone in her apartment on the most love-filled day of the year. 

“I’ll be fine.” She assures with a tight smile. “Might see if Miss Starlight or Renegade wanna hang. We can all be lonely and miserable together.” She snorts. 

A thoughtful pause follows before Marcus tentatively broaches the idea. "Have you ever thought about giving online dating a try? You know, like the dating app profile you made for me? I hear it’s all the rage these days."

Missy raises an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on her face, "Dad, are you suggesting I join the world of swipes and emojis? Because that ship has long sailed. I’m knee deep in dilfs on the regular." She grins.

Marcus chuckles nervously, "I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Probably best.”

“Well, I mean, it's one way to meet people. You might find someone who appreciates your eloquent wit and charm."

“Don’t forget the potty mouth.”

“That too,” he smiles. “I know what it’s like. Being the world’s hero leaves you somewhat… lonely. I don't want that for you.”

Missy nods contemplating. “I’ve been giving it some thought.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you two seem really happy together. I guess I miss having that sometimes.”

Marcus, feigning surprise, replies, "Really? Well, I guess you can thank your old man for staying on top of the trends and leading by example."

Missy rolls her eyes playfully, "Oh, I will, Dad. You're my dating app guru now."

“Hardly.” He scoffs.

“This is true, you lucked out on round one. You didn’t get to kiss any gnarly toads or do the walk of shame.”

“The walk of shame?”

“I'll tell you about it when you’re older some day,” Missy quips with a grin. 

There’s always a subtle restlessness, a physical awareness that manifests in the anticipation of your next meeting.

The memory of your kiss lingers on his lips, he can still taste you long after you're gone, and the mere thought of your touch again sparks a warmth that courses through his veins, burning him up from the inside.

His body has changed so much, and yet you make Marcus feel like he’s young and nubile again when the butterflies begin to flap around, and that tingle surges deliciously down the length of his cock.  

With a sense of heady excitement and a touch of mystery, Marcus decided to plan a special surprise for you for Valentine’s Day.

One that he hopes you won’t forget in a hurry. 

He arrives at your place, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and the breath torn from his lungs as he beholds you opening the door with that gorgeous smile just for him. 

Every time he has the chance to see you again, whether for a planned date or an unexpected visit, Marcus feels a powerful surge run through him, making his fingers crackle with a pulsing intensity that makes them buzz almost uncontrollably. He doesn't bother shaking the feeling away anymore, instead he revels in it.

The moments leading up to your regular reunions are filled with a blend of eagerness and a touch of nervous anticipation, as if each meeting holds the promise of uncovering something new and extraordinary.

In those stolen glances and shared moments, Marcus discovers that missing someone can be a beautiful ache, a testament to the depth of his feelings for you, absent hearts and all that spiel. 

An ache that is soon satiated when you open the door and smile at him like he’s the only man in the world. 

His lips find yours almost instantly as you grasp onto his broad shoulders in the doorway, the pair of you almost toppling through in your desperate haste. The soft groans that escape him makes your blood throb inside your veins.

His tongue slips into the comforting home of your mouth, and you feel it over every nerve ending in your body, tingly and visceral. And not just from his crackly fingertips.

“Hey you,” you eventually manage to sigh into his plush mouth, feeling the silk of his greying beard smoothing against your cheeks. 

“Hey, mi Dulzura…” (Hey, my Sweetness) he murmurs dreamily as he plants delicate kisses along your jawline and inhales the scent of your perfume. It’s the vanilla and jasmine one he likes so much when he can smell it lingering on his pillows. 

He’s all hands and enthusiastic smooches the moment he sees you. Unable to abnegate himself away from the basic needs of touch and affection that you give back to him in equal abundance.

You can't get enough of one another. 

You feel his large hands squeeze your hips gently, and your body flares as he pulls you in closer to him, crushed right up against his stacked, warm chest as he kisses you more with a heated groan. 

Reluctantly pulling away he suggests, "How about we go on a little adventure today? I've got something special planned."

“You spoil me, Mr Moreno.” You cluck, running your hands over the soft leather jacket adorning his arms. 

“Always,” he confirms with a grin. “You look great, so beautiful,” he says, eyeing your tight jeans and pretty floral shirt combo. 

“As do you, you scrub up well.” You marvel at the jeans, leather jacket and green t-shirt he’s casually adorned in, pulling tight in all the right places. You stroke over the soft swell of his tummy as you lean in for another kiss.

He pulls something silken out of his pocket and you glance at it with raised eyebrows. “May I?”

“Kinky shenanigans planned on my doorstep?” You query as you allow him to blindfold you. “The neighbours will love that…” You giggle.

“Even better,” he whispers into your ear salaciously. 

“You hound.” You swipe out playfully to him, but miss when you can’t see anything at all now.

“Woof.” He growls, pausing to nip on your lobe and revelling in your desperate whine in response.

After a short drive through town, Marcus finally pulls up. "Trust me, you're going to love this," he assures as he guides you out of the car.

He carefully leads you along a path, each step heightening the sense of anticipation. As you walk blindly, his arm around your waist, and your hand holding tightly onto his other, you can feel his own sense of excitement as it buzzes into your skin with those pleasant tingles and crackles.

“Just a little further.” He assures as he pushes open a door and you step through to inhale a moistness in the air; a balmy heat that’s different from the outside that settles into your pores. 

“Where are we?” You question with a jaunty, excitable tinkle. For a moment, the smell reminds you of a swimming pool.

“Just wait…” You can hear him grinning. 

When you reach your destination, Marcus removes the blindfold, unveiling the breathtaking scene of the Austin botanical garden before you.

The vibrant colours, the fragrant blossoms, and the serene atmosphere creates a picturesque display that leaves you in absolute awe.

You’re surrounded by flowers in abundance, the scent of them driving you wild as they all scramble to make you smell their perfumes first. You’re even more stunned to find it all completely empty.

"Welcome to the botanical garden.” Marcus says, tucking the blindfold into his leather jacket pocket. “It’s one of my favourite places.” 

“Wow!” You smile, turning a full three-sixty as you take it all in. “You know, I’ve always been meaning to come here. I don’t know why I haven’t before…”

“I thought we could spend the day here," Marcus announces with a grin. “Look,” he points over to a small set up of a picnic on a grassy area under an intricate arch of purple orchids in the shape of a heart.

“Looks like a giant purple heart emoji.” You smile at him. 

He nods, eyebrows wiggling above his specs.

“You really know how to romance a girl,” you smile, stroking under his chin. 

“I booked this place out just for us.” His hands slide down your lower back pulling you into him. “We’re completely alone…”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We have the whole day here, if we want.”

“I want. Very much.” You nod and pull him forward by his lapels for a deep kiss. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you smile, cupping his cheeks and gliding your nose over his. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi Dulzura. Feliz Día del Corazón.” (My Sweetness. Happy Heart Day.)

He kisses you, gently nipping onto your lips as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. 

The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers as you stroll together along lush pathways, surrounded by an array of captivating plant life.

The Orchid Pavilion, the base for your picnic, is adorned with hanging baskets of intricate orchids, showcasing a kaleidoscope of colours - from delicate pastels to vibrant hues. 

After eating together, an array of home baked, sweet treats Marcus had prepared himself, you wander through a section adorned with curtains of exotic orchids, and Marcus can't contain his enthusiasm as he takes on the role of your personal tour guide.

A role he takes very seriously, much to your amusement. 

"Did you know orchids have a fascinating way of attracting pollinators? Some mimic the appearance and scent of certain insects to lure them in. It's nature's way of flirting, I suppose." He rambles excitedly.

You chuckle, finding Marcus's nerdy fascination endearing. "Flirting through flowers, who would've thought? Tell me more, Mr. Botanist."

You continue your fascinating journey, hand in hand, and Marcus points out a cluster of carnivorous plants. 

"These are pitcher plants. They have specialised leaves that form a pitcher-like structure to trap insects. It's like having a tiny garden predator."

“Have you got these in your garden?” You query, peering into their tube-like structures, like tiny trumpets in the grasses. He has so many of his own plants it's hard to remember them all.

“No. I do have a Venus Fly Trap though. She’s very bitey.” He nips on your neck making you yelp as he walks you forward. 

“Ah. Audrey II, of course.” You smirk. 

“Of course.” He muses. 

As you reach a serene pond surrounded by water lilies, Marcus shares another tidbit. 

"Water lilies close their flowers at night and reopen in the morning, and they…. what?” He stops to look at you quizzically, noting the expression spreading over your face. “W-why are you looking at me like that?”

You shake your head smiling, all teeth bared at him. “You're so sexy when you geek out.”

He blushes beet red and smirks. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until we get to the cacti garden. I will be insufferable.”

"Hot." You chuckle.

You meander through a section dedicated to succulents and cacti, where the desert's resilience takes centre stage. The ground is adorned with various prickly shapes and sizes, from the elegant arms of Saguaro cacti to the whimsical arrangements of succulents that seem to defy gravity as their spiky tendrils reach towards the sky. 

The sun bathes this arid landscape in a warm glow through the high glass ceilings, casting shadows that play on the pebbly, sandy ground like a dance of desert spirits conjured by mystical forces.

“You were right, it’s pretty awesome.” You say. 

“Not as awesome as you,” he whispers, kissing you again. 

A serpentine path leads you to the Aquatic Garden, where more water lilies float gracefully on the surface of a tranquil pond. Golden Koi Carp glide beneath the water, adding a splash of movement as you both sit by it chatting. 

The reflections of the surrounding greenery dance on the water, creating a mirror-like effect that seems to amplify the selection of plant species all around you. You dip your fingers into the pool, the fish swimming curiously around at a safe distance, and Marcus watches with a smile that makes his cheeks ache. 

“You like butterflies?” He asks you. 

You nod, smiling as he takes your hand and leads you to the Butterfly Conservatory, a whimsical space alive with fluttering colours of Black Swallowtails, Red Admirals and Cloudless Sulphurs.

Thousands of butterflies dance around, their delicate wings creating a haze of hues that add an extra layer of enchantment to the garden that stuns you into silent giggles at such a place.

“I wish I could fly sometimes.” You smile as the butterflies flit around, some landing on your sleeves as you admire their delicacy with a splendid awe.

You bring your arm closer to your face, your nose wrinkling in delight as the tiny butterfly shows off its wings just for you. 

“Funny you should mention that.” Marcus teases.

You eye him carefully. “What do you mean?”

“I have something else planned for you today. If you’re up for it?”

“I’m always up for it.” You smirk.

“Come on.” He takes you by the hand once more and leads you towards a garden that’s outside and full of roses in every shade of pink and red that exists on the colour scale. 

“This is stunning,” you say, slowing down as you take them all in.

Akin to being lost in the Queen of Heart’s gardens, it takes you a few minutes of wandering back through the maze of rose bushes, interwoven with clusters of pale lavender hydrangeas, to find Marcus handling some belts and clips near a device you’ve never seen before. 

“Is that what I think it is?” You question with wide eyes as you notice the large contraption hovering just a few inches above the grass, whirring silently.

It has two large circular fans and belts that lead from it to Marcus’s waist as he clips himself securely into it.

“You wanna fly?” He queries and you nod enthusiastically, feeling a surge zap through you and your toes tingle in your shoes. 

You feel him navigate a similar belt around your waist, willingly holding your arms out. He runs his nose against your neck as he does it, and you hear him groan in satisfaction as he inhales.

“Mouth watering...” He murmurs as he kisses your skin and your feel it pulse in your core as you clench around nothing. 

You watch as he clips your belt into his and tugs against it.

“Are you ready?” Marcus asks you as you step closer to him.

“No.” You giggle.

“Do you trust me?” He questions with a serious face, thumb stroking down your cheek.

You nod looking into his deep, cocoa eyes. “With my life.”

Marcus smiles at that, wrapping his hands around your waist. “I’ve got you. You’re safe, okay?"

"Okay." You nod, smiling.

"You’re not afraid of heights, are you?

“Bit late to ask me that now,” you chuckle, and so does he. "Are you going to run me through the pre-flight safety checks?"

Marcus smirks. "Hold onto me. That's it."

"Well, shit." You cling onto him as the whirring starts to get faster, the blades of grass blown out into flat circles, and you can feel the belt cinch tighter around your waist as it lifts you both off the ground. 

“Oh my God!” You clutch onto him tighter and he chuckles softly. “This is really happening!”

“Let’s go see the city.” Marcus smiles, placing a kiss on your head. 

Once a soft breeze, the wind grows more ferocious around you, your body becoming free from the reassuring surface of the world.

The wonder in your eyes grows to questionable proportions, and you’re soon completely bewildered at the fact that you're really flying.

He tips forward in a smooth motion so you’re both lying horizontal in the air when the device reaches the desired altitude.

“You ready?”

You nod eagerly as he propels forward with a simple push of his upper body, steering, as you both zoom off towards the Austin city skyline, your giggly gasps ringing in his ears.

Your eyes meet his in wonder as you grip onto him tightly. “Marcus! We’re flying!”

You feel like you’re shouting over the wind whipping against you, eyes wide and gleaming at the sight of the city approaching in a block chart of colour and twinkles of lights. 

It feels colder, but being crushed against his body keeps you warm enough. You’re too exhilarated to feel any change in body temperature. 

You brave yourself to look at the sky above sinking into an inky twilight of orange and cerise hues as the sun sets. 

“Welcome to my world,” Marcus says, nuzzling into you.

You feel his grip lessen and glance at him with alarm, but the look in his eyes convinces you he’s not going to let you fall.

He simply reaches for your hand with one of his, and you drop subtly beneath him, the belt keeping you close as he takes your other hand and you’re spread out beneath, back against his chest, arms wide as they can go as he holds them out parallel with his.

“Oh shit!” You gasp as he flies you both faster, curving and twisting around the breadth of the skyscrapers; your giddy reflection in the mirrors of the glass windows ara a blur as you pass. 

You don’t notice when he lets go of your hands, his arms around your waist instead as your own arms stay out in front of you as you rip through the air. 

“Better than the butterflies?” You hear him call.

“So much better than the butterflies!” You laugh, almost hysterically, as he loops back towards the botanical garden, after a few more laps around the city. 

As soon as you’re back on the ground in the rose garden, a wave of adrenaline surges through you, and you lunge at him with shaky limbs, almost knocking him off balance.

A melody of gasps and breathy pants puff out of your mouths as you kiss frantically through tinctured groans. The whimper in the back of his throat conveying more than words ever need to about his desire for you in this moment. 

Marcus unclips the belts, yanking them off of the both of you with a fumbling fervour, glued at the mouth with you. Clumsy kisses, teeth clashing against one anothers in your mutual haste, as you push his leather jacket down over his shoulders and his fingers eagerly untuck your shirt from your jeans. 

“That was incredible,” you gasp into his mouth, unzipping his jeans. 

“You’re incredible,” he groans as you take his swollen cock in your hand, squeezing and stroking gently as you lavish kisses over his bronzed neck. 

“Oh God,” Marcus moans.

Subtle flicks of your tongue leave him gasping, his hands running through your windswept hair as you make tracks over his chest littered with sparse, greying hairs as you both tumble to the grass and push his t-shirt up further. 

Tasting all the way down his sternum and lingering over the soft paunch of his tummy, a place you always nuzzle against, he glances down at you with a bashful smile.

Then a gentle nibble on his hips before your tongue wanders into the small, neatly trimmed thatch of hairs around the back of this thick, weeping cock. 

“Oh, please…” he whines biting down on his lip. 

You lick up from the base of him, your eyes transfixed on his as he gasps, watching you run up the full length of him to kiss the top of his leaking head gently. You stroke his thighs and he parts them further making room for you as you settle into making out with his cock. 

You’ve mastered the art of taking your time with him, enjoying the sounds that flutter out of his mouth as you take him deeper and deeper. Those unbridled whimpers as you suck fill your ears, and you swear you’ve never heard a more perfect sound escape him. 

It's when you take him all the way down is when he loses his calm, polite composure. 

“Fuck!” Marcus gasps, his head lolling back. “Mm, just like that…” 

You smirk to yourself as you feel fingers knotting in your hair and subtly tugging on it.

“Yeah… so fucking good. Oh my God… Yes.” He pants.

You let him have free reign over your body too, as he buries two fingers inside you and licks you to orgasm. His favourite place is between your legs, his second is a garden. When the two collide, it's even better.

“Marcus, please…” you pant, words tumbling from your mouth as your legs shake.

“Tell me, tell me what you want, mi Dulzura.”

“I want you inside me.”

“Right here?” You feel his buzzing fingers plunger deeper, stroking on that spot that makes your thighs shake harder as you feel the tingles ramp up. “You want me filling you up, hmm?” 

“Yeah.” You pant as he circles your clit. The heavy throb undeniable on it from the crackling in the tip of his thumb.

“That feel good?” He smirks.

You fist the grass, tearing blades from it that stick to your palms as you grasp his face, fingernails digging into his skull behind his ears as your exhale and puff into his face. 

“Oh my God, yes, Marcus!”

His glasses dig into your cheeks as you strain and wail, your breath fogging them up a little.

“Come for me. Come all over my fingers, come on.” He chants watching you, foreheads crushed together as he zaps and strokes harder inside you. 

“Come, mi Dulzura. ¡Dios mío, eres tan malditamente hermosa!” (My God, you're so damn beautiful!)

The Spanish whispers send you over the edge. “M-Marcus!” You cry out, squeezing around his fingers as your whole body shakes; tingles flooding all over and making you feel like you’re still flying, all the way up there in the pale lilac sky above you as your eyes roll back into it.

You feel him kissing over your neck, humming softly muffled words of praise and desire into your skin as your slick coats his fingers just like he wanted.

"So fucking perfect for me," Marcus croons.

“I need you.” You whisper. 

“God, I need you, too.”

His large, perfectly sculpted nose crushes into the side of your jaw as he fills you; your gasps and whines echoing around the rose garden as he slides into your utterly drenched pussy.

He loves how the stretch of you around his cock brings you to orgasm almost right away; a few gentle thrusts as you adjust to his thickness, and you’re shuddering for him, coating him in your slick before he plunders deeper with that gentle, rhythmic pounding.

He loves how you're completely insatiable for one another, despite the ravishes of age rendering your bones heavier, your paces slower.

Despite it all, you still embark on a journey of a healthy sexual appetite, even if you both have to navigate it with a little more preparedness sometimes; it still rocks your world.

He still has it, and so do you. 

“You feel so good,” You whisper to him as he nuzzles into your face. The wind of his hips into yours, hits you at the perfect angle, again and again. 

“We feel so good together,” he breathes with a smile. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. I don't think I’ll ever stop getting enough of you.” 

You kiss him again as he thrusts a little harder, a little faster. 

The vulnerabilities of being so exposed, so spread before him like this, revealing all the parts about yourself you’ve scrutinised scathingly in the mirror with abhorrence, fade away.

It’s all those wrinkled, stretched, sagged parts of you that he worships with his crackly fingers and tongue. He spends time appreciating them, fawning over them and lavishing them with the attention they so thoroughly deserve as he rolls with you so you’re on top now.

How you watch as your less-than-perky breasts tumble into his face as he pulls them out of your bra, but he licks and suckles at them as his cock notches against your hole and he groans out as you sit on him fully. Running his tongue around those stiff pebbles unabashed, sucking them into his mouth as you grind on him. 

“Come for me…” Marcus pants as he watches that dreamy glaze settle into your eyes as you ride him; that glittery feeling about ready to burst out of your pores as he pushes up with his hips to meet you. “Need to feel you soak me.” 

“Oh shit, I’m coming!” You shake on top of him, gasping. Head thrown back as you rock and grinning as you see stars explode across the sky above you. 

Yeah. Marcus Moreno has still got it.

“That’s it, like that. Fuck, I’m gonna come too! Fuck! Fuuuck!”

Marcus stiffens, his whole body tenses as his hips jerk, and he fills you up. Floods you until he's dripping warm and pearly out of you, all over his soft belly, as you lean upwards to kiss him some more.

Afterwards, as you both lay in the grass half dressed and satiated from the highs of flying and your lovemaking, Marcus reaches up above you both, plucking a single, red rose from the bush and hands it to you. 

You sniff the fragrant petals and smile at him with glittery eyes that wander over his face looking back at you. You run the rose head gently over his cheek and he smiles, and you think you've never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

The way he’s looking at you right now literally renders you mute and unable to breathe. 

But he's a tempest under that sweet smile.

He’s felt it for a while now, that tether between you becoming tighter, knotting into something unbreakable and deepening, but he finds himself grappling with a gnawing worry - one that whispers doubts in the quiet moments of contemplation.

He fears the weight of those three simple words that are on the cusp of his tongue: I love you. 

It wasn't that he doubted the sincerity of his emotions; rather, it was the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of how those words might alter the delicate balance of your relationship.

Is it too soon? Is it too much? Is it foolish at his age to even begin to allow himself the same giddy excitement he felt when he was much younger? Would uttering those words irrevocably change the dynamic between you, shifting the fragile equilibrium you had both carefully cultivated?

There's also the fear of rejection, of laying his heart bare only to have it met with silence or crippling hesitation. What if you might not feel the same way yet, or even at all? That his declaration of love might drive a wedge between you rather than bring you closer together causes a reaction within him that makes him physically tense.

“I can feel your heartbeat speeding up,” you say, regarding him quizzically with your hand already resting on his chest. Little fluttery pulses thrum under your fingertips.

Looking at you gazing up at him, a mixture of awe and concern, Marcus knows he has all he’s ever wanted and needed right here in his arms, and he can't deny the truth that simmers beneath the surface of his hesitations. 

He loves you with a fierceness that defies logic - defies gravity, even. A love that transcends the boundaries of time and space. And as he grapples with his fears, he knows deep down that the only way forward is to take a leap of faith, to trust in the strength of your forged connection that grows stronger between you every day. 

He decides he has to be bold. To be brave.

To be heroic. 

“I love you. I-I’m in love with you.” Marcus says softly, wrinkled almond eyes swimming with a mix of euphoria and worry. “Be my Valentine?”

You reach for him, stroking your fingers in the soft silk of his greying jawline. 

“También te quiero, Marcus.” You say, before he grazes his lips across yours. (I love you too, Marcus.)

“You learned some Spanish.” He whispers in awe, pulling his smile wide and eyes glistening behind the lenses of his specs.

“I figured I should. After all, I wanna understand all the special things you whisper in my ear.” 

“Sólo las cosas más especiales, y sucias, para ti, mi amor…” (Only the most special, and dirty, things for you, my love.)

“Yeah, I’m not fluent.” You chuckle as he kisses you, pulling you over fully onto his body where he crushes you against him. 

“Yet,” he smiles, as he sucks your bottom lip into this mouth for a deep kiss. 

“So, are we flying home, or…?” You ask.

“You’re an adrenaline junkie now,  hmm?” 

“What can I say, you’ve taken me to new heights, Mr Moreno. I might become addicted.”

“I already am.” Marcus says, nuzzling into you. 

“We should go soon, someone might find us?”

He shakes his head. “I told you, we have the whole place to ourselves, for a little while longer anyway. What do you want to do?”

You smile at him, devilishly.

“Make me fly again…” You whisper, as you feel his re-hardened cock dipping into your sticky folds. 

You push back as he slips fully inside you, hips bucking up to fill you full of him once more, and Marcus does exactly what you ask of him; he lets you fly. 

Thank you so much for enjoying this story! I'd love to know your thoughts and would really appreciate a re-blog too so others can enjoy some Mature!Marcus Moreno. Isn't he just dreamy? Happy Valentine's Day! 🖤😘

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #marcus moreno x reader #pedro pascal #marcus moreno #pedro pascal characters #mature!marcus moreno #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fluff #valentines day #jett's writing

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Marcus Moreno Masterlist

📽… Series

😢…Angst

❤…Fluff

🌶 … Steamy (no smut)

🔥 … smut

⚠… extra warning

Can we keep it ❤

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno fic #masterlist

[amorevolousfaith]

Crisis Of Tomorow Masterlist

Paring: Marcus Moreno X Reader

Rating: +18 (NO MINORS)

Warning: adult language, consumption of alcohol, minor character deaths, hella angst, lots of self-doubt, strangulation, smut, betrayal, death threats.

Warning 2.0: See Chapter 10

Summary: Being a single mom is hard, being a single mom to your sister’s kid is hard, being a single mom to your sister’s super powered kid is harder, and being a single mom to your sister’s super powered kid while working as a villain is hardest. It doesn’t help that your kids want to be a superhero, it also doesn’t help that all those super heroes really hate your guts. But, you're making it work.

Note: I really took this kid’s show out of proportion guys...

Chapters

Chapter 1: Sunshine Child

Chapter 2: Functioning Parenting

Chapter 3: Committing

Chapter 4: Little Sun

Chapter 5: Sister, Brother

Chapter 6: Call Of Action

Chapter 7: People Like Me

Chapter 8: It’s Madonna

Chapter 9: That’s My Girl

Chapter 10: Date Night (+18)

#marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #marcus moreno fanfic #marcus moreno fanfiction #we can be heros #WCBH

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 2nd

Day 2: Frottage, Sexual Frustration, Virginity

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

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

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[adancedivasmom]

Kinktober 2022 - Day 19: Somnophilia

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rated M

Consensual somnophilia, allusion to PinV sex

A/N: I am not a writer. But I wanted to participate in Kinktober this year and this was the only thing I could think of doing. My blog and all of my hai(kink)ku are for those 18+ years of age and older. Minors: you are not welcome here. Thank you to @absurdthirst for sharing your amazing prompt list. My apologies in advance for butchering this lovely ancient art form.

Extra A/N: Out of all the kinks on the prompt list, this one fascinates me the most. I would totally give my husband consent to do this, but I’m such a light sleeper it would never work. 😔

You dream of Marcus

Awakening as you peak

There’s my girl he breathes

#kinktober 2022 #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno x reader

[slvtforoldermen]

Pedro’s Characters: The Dick-tionary

How big are Pedro Pascal’s characters and some NSFW headcannons

(WARNING: DETAILS OF PENISES AND TALKS OF SEX - MDNI)

Part Two <3

A/N: Sorry I never continued Fluff February :(, I lost motivation so I’ll just write them and post them as a prompt list for whenever…

Joel Miller:

Okay, all his characters are big, it’s a known fact, but Joel is 100% the biggest. Probably about 8.5 inches, with a pretty pink mushroom tip, and GIRTHY AGH! There’s a vein on it that is really visible when he’s hard. Oh and his balls are big too. Everything about Joel is just big. Not only is he big but you best believe he knows how to use it too. He’s got a daddy kink… Fav positions are missionary and cowgirl, however when he’s angry doggy or the mating press are a no-brainer. Daddy kink! DOMINANT!!! There’s no way this man is a sub, it just doesn’t work, he’s just so dom yknow, and when he’s soft, he’s the sweetest he’s ever been, but if he’s angry, hard dom Joel comes out and that’s a man you don’t wanna piss off if you wanna cum. He’s got such a daddy kink. “Fuck babygirl/boy, you’re so fucking sweet, sugar. So fucking good for daddy. Yeah baby? You like that? Such a good little girl/boy, so fucking sweet.” Daddy kink is such is a big thing for him. Hair wise? Well it’s the apocalypse so it’s probably hard to find the Manscaper 3000 or whatever. He trims his hair with some scissors, honestly he didn’t really care for shaving before you, so he just let it grow, but once when you were sucking him, you almost sneezed from how much it tickled your nose and made a little joke about it after, which made Joel feel a little bad so he cut them just a little shorter. Oh I’m sorry and did I mention… DADDY KINK!!!

Javier Peña:

(Here I’m purely writing about Javier Pena in a fictional sense AS PEDRO, not the real guy, this has nothing to do with the real Javier Pena)

Okay, Javier, my baby daddy. Um, who said that- ANYWAYS! Javier is probably the second biggest, in joint place with Oberyn, definitely about 7-7.5 inches, as he’s nicknamed by moi, the Pussy Slayer of Medellin. It goes without saying that Javier is rough, as we’ve seen, side note: I don’t know why I thought watching Narcos with my family would be a good idea… I was sat on the couch like “😀 okay, I’m watching Pedro have sex next to my mum, just a normal Saturday morning…” anyways back to it (hehe Negan reference) but Javier is rough, doggy and cowgirl are his favourite positions, but sometimes when he’s feeling a little somber he likes a little missionary. As how domestically-kinky I like my men, I’m a little disappointed that Javier isn’t a committed man, but he does have a tiny 🤏 breeding kink, he defo isn’t a fan of being called daddy, in fact just call him Javi and he’s yours, and he’s dom obviously. “Oh carino, you take my cock so well, you good little whore… fuck… my sweet little angel.” I mean, we’ve all seen his hair, so do we really need address it, that also might genuinely be my fav sex scene in all of cinema history.

Oberyn Martell

Okay, admittedly, I haven’t seen any proper scenes of Oberyn, because I’ve just started GOT, so I have no clue what his character is like apart from being a HUGE BISEXUAL SLUT, so he’s just like me 🤭

Oberyn, tying with Javier, is about 7-7.5 inches, and I feel like his cock is definitely a lot more tan than others, idk why, it’s just an instinct. Defo uncircumcised. His fav positions are definitely cowgirl OH and dude is the literal definition of a pillow prince, again, just like me. Suck his dick, please, just suck his dick. Again, I don’t know how he’s presented in GOT, but I’m like 74% sure he’s dominant? From the clips I’ve seen 🫣 Hair wise, do razors exists in the GOT world? Or does my man just shave himself with a sword.

Javi Gutierrez:

Oh my sweet baby Javi… he’s so kinky. I’m fully convinced he’s into full BDSM, not so much where he has to do it every single time, but maybe like once a month. When I was watching TUWOMT for the first time, when Nick is about to go into the room with all his merch and stuff, I was dead convinced it was gonna be a sex dungeon. There’s no way a man is this sweet and adorable without being into some freaky shit.

Anyway, Javi is about 6.5 inches, with a sweet pink tip and he’s definitely a giver not a taker, don’t get him wrong, he ADORES you with his dick in your mouth, but he prefers to eat you out/suck your dick for hours on end. Oh and he’s a sweet talker, when you guys aren’t being full kinky, he’ll praise you to hours on end, mumbling in your ear how good you are in that sexy accent of his. Is a little bit of a switch, but mostly dominant, soft dom if it’s a normal night but if it’s that special night, only your safe word will pull him out of hard dom space. Definitely the type to overstimulate you in a sweet way “you can take it right sweetheart? Mi amor~ just take my cock nice and good, ahí tienes.” Um, daddy kink for surely, but not like every single night like Joel. But when he’s between your legs, and he’s stimulated you so far into sub space, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, and you’re reaching up for him, babbling how good his cock feels in your hole, he can’t help but coo down at you and praise you so hard. He’s not bald, but his hair isn’t long, just trimmed to the point where it tickles your nose when you suck his cock.

Din Djarin

Okay, so I think it’s canon that Din hasn’t really ever felt human touch, so I feel he’s really inexperienced… but the dude’s got a pretty dick. Like it’s just so… pretty. About 6 inches with a sweet baby pink tip, he’s so sensitive too. He loves head but he really can’t say it, he’s just too embarrassed. I just get the vibe that he’s mostly subby. He tried to be dom once but the poor baby couldn’t handle it all. But then he tried again and he did so good, but it tired him out, so if he’s domming, which is once in a blue moon, he’s going to be soft, maybe even softer than Javi. Mommy/Daddy kink!! “Please, I’m good right? Please, please tell me I’m doing good… you always feel so so good, I love you so much.” Please, he’s so sweet I love him. It’s rare that you guys get off together because of reasons due to his upbringing and stuff so he just likes being taken care of, the sweet boy. Before you, he never really cared for shaving, so when you first strip together, he’s a little nervous about it, and then after that he trims it, quite short.

Marcus Moreno

If anyone says this man is a hard dom they’re just kidding themselves, this man is the sweetest man out there, obviously not as much as Din ofc <3.

Marcus has an obsession with using his hands, making you cum just by fingering you. Then when he’s inside you, he slips his fingers into your mouth, or around your neck, or on your cheek. His dick is about 7 inches, and like everyone else, knows how to use it perfectly. Angel is one of his favourite nicknames to call you. “My perfect Angel, taking my cock so good baby…” whilst hes thrusting into you ever so gently. Would never EVER do it when Missy is around, so quickies before picking Missy up from school are his go to, but he loves the days where his mom can take her out for the day or even a grandma sleepover so he can be with you for hours. You under him, over him, him inside you, his good girl/boy, his good angel. Pleasuring you until you get numb. The armpit hair in the scene of the gif gets me and idk why, I have never had a thing for armpit hair but maybe I’m just really horny, but his hair down there is nice and trimmed, not bald, never bald.

Tim Rock(Hard)Ford

Here we go…

Oh Tim man! I have a teensy 🤏 detective kink so when Pedro played this role it was over for me.

Maybe it’s the greying, like Joel, but I feel like he’s huge, just like Joel. He’s 8 inches, living his best life. But he’s just a tired old man, so when he gets home, please just get on your knees for him, he’ll just lay there, stroking your hair, praising you, telling you how good you suck his cock. Then he’ll bring you up to the bed and return the favour, making sure to always get you to tell him about your day as he does so. Saturday nights are always his favourite time to rail into you, he’s had the whole day off, just resting, watching you walk around, getting him so worked up. He has a domestic kink. So seeing you do chores get him so hard. Loves fucking between your thighs when you’re sleeping because he gets home so late and just needs a little relief, but you look so cute and peaceful while you sleep and because he’s so considerate, he doesn’t wanna wake you. “So good for me baby, so good for daddy, gonna fill you up, you’re not gonna let any of my cum slip out right, gonna keep it all in your tummy, yeah, that’s it, cum for me.” TALKS YOU THROUGH IT!!! Sleeps naked. Not trimmed, not shaved, just grows it out, he’s old so he doesn’t care, it’s not like anyone but you would be seeing him like this anyways.

Dieter Bravo

I love Dieter, he’s so cute.

Not dom, but not sub either, just dom enough to see you break under him but sub enough to whimper and get soooo desperate. Such a huge pillow prince, he loves it when you suck him, especially when you grab his balls and caress them, he cums so quick when that happens. He’s about 6.5 inches, and it loves fast, not as in quickie, but he loves seeing you fall apart as he jackhammers into your hole. When you ride him he gets so sweet, and he can last long, don’t worry, but you just look so pretty on top of him, he can’t help it, please don’t be mad at him. Has a thing for dry humping, especially in the morning when he’s too lazy to move properly. “So good baby, oh yeah, fuck, grind against me just like that, mmmf fuck…” loves to beg and watch you beg, he’s so good to and for you, don’t doubt him ever. He doesn’t shave, he trims it, but he’s so goofy, so once he shaved it into a heart.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javi gutierrez #oberyn martell #din djarin #marcus moreno #tim rockford #dieter bravo #slvtforoldermen

[pedroshotwifey]

One Condition

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

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

Word count: 4.9k

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

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

A/N: Uhhh. don't look at me 🫣

*****

“Um, Marcus?” 

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

“Yup.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there a problem?” 

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

You gape at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods again, furrowing his brows in thought. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, Marcus!” 

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

“Does anything hurt?” 

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

You sigh. “Probably from lack of airflow.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head as your mouth goes dry. 

“Is—is he going to be okay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

You both shake your heads.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I–uh…” 

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

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

“Yeah, we are.” 

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

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

You and Marcus exchange yet another glance. 

“Yes, we’ve heard of them,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine. But not him.” 

Ezra’s smile broadens. 

“Very well, gem. Right this way.” 

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

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

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

“F-fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t–” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want this, gem?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M-messy little bird,” he laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks at you as your cheeks heat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next morning, Ezra’s waiting for the two of you with a portable can of fuel and an extra mask. Your departure is swift and unawkward, Ezra walking with the two of you back to your ship like you’ve known each other for years. It takes a bit longer than it should due to your body being practically fucking wrecked from last night, but both of the men help you get along. 

When you reach your craft, you all say your goodbyes, knowing this will more than likely be the last time you’ll come across this strange man. To be frank, you’re still a bit confused about what exactly transpired last night, but you choose to ignore it. Your head is pounding with what feels like the worst hangover you’ve ever had, and you’re just eager to get off of this nightmare planet. 

Ezra watches you fuel up your craft and then take off, smiling and honestly quite satisfied with himself. Neither of you even figured it out that he was the one who planted the trap and laced the dirt pit with the drug, nor that he may have let a bit more slip inside his tent.

***** I mean really, do we really expect anything less from Ezra?

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