#Marcus Moreno fanfic

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 8- Cockwarming

Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Word count- 1k

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

“Marcus,” you breathed. 

“Morning, baby,” he murmured between kisses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart…” he murmured. 

“I know,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[the-orange-tabby-cat]

Howdy! September is quite special for lucky cat Tabby because it marks a year since I joined Tumblr, my birthday, and moving out of the country for new land all at once.

I’m cleaning my barn and found some questionable items I've kept for a while and can’t pack with me. Decided to do a yard sale, the price? A fic! I'm a cat, I don't use real money. This is baby's first fic challenge. Now, it's quite simple: you choose between 1 to 3 items from my selling list, send me an ask with your order, and voilá, you are in. 

⭐ Check out the challenge's masterlist!

WHAT AM I SELLING?

Choose up to 3 items between the 10 categories (in italics is what you will receive):

Homemade cassette tapes of forgotten lovers - an album

Old books from a dusty shelf - literature genre

Posters that I had in my room when kitten - pic inspo

Travel memorabilia - a place (it can be a city or a more general place)

DVDs I forgot to return to Blockbuster - a quote

Power tools I bought to make DIYs I never did - a profession

Photo album of the barn's previous owner - a situation

*The* one bed - a couple trope

Outfits I’ve grown out of and can't use - a Pedro boy

Plushie collection - a wildcard

THE RULES

1. Send an ask with your order of 1 up to 3 items from August 31st until September 3rd. There are 15 slots for this challenge.

2. Go absolutely wild! Use the items as you prefer, no rules here for it. You are buying them, after all.

3. When you are done, tag me in your fic and use the #TabbysYardSale hashtag so I can find it. Upload your fic until October 31st, but if you need extra time or if something happens along the way, don't worry, let me know!

4. Have fun. Write smut, fluff, angst, you do you. No word limit, It's a writing challenge: I want you to feel motivated by it and beaming with confidence.

See ya, lucky cat 🐾

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2022: October 21st

Day 21: Rimming/Analingus // Masturbation // Breeding

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Angst, teasing, public sex, vaginal sex, 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.

It had slipped out during sex and he hadn’t even realized it. Not until you were gone and he was alone in his bed again, humming quietly in the dark while he wonders when he can tell Missy about this thing that has grown between you and him. Waffling between fear that she will see you as some sort of replacement for her mother and guilt that he has moved on so quickly, even though it’s been years since her untimely death. 

He’s almost asleep, replaying that sweaty, satisfying moment when he was just about to cum - your pussy already clamped around his cock like a vice when he had said those words. “Gonna breed you, baby.” 

His eyes spring open in horror, sitting straight up in the bed. “No, no, no.” He hisses, fumbling for his phone, for the light, for his glasses and swiping two out of the three to the floor in his haste. “Fuck!” 

You hadn’t said anything but that doesn’t mean much. You normally had to sneak out of the house pretty quickly after sex to go back to your own house. The last time you had lingered, you had fallen asleep and that would have been a nightmare if you hadn’t woken up to pee at four in the morning. He didn’t want Missy to catch him in bed with another woman before they could talk. 

Marcus curses again, feet hitting the floor, followed by his knees as he gropes for the phone so he can send a panicked text. 

Call me when you get this. 

Seconds feel like hours and instead of being drowsy like he always is after sex with you, he’s wide awake and terrified of what you might say. He stares at the delivered icon, praying that he sees the bubbles pop up where you are texting him, or even better - to see your number pop up with an incoming call. However, there is nothing. 

Baby, I can explain, just call me.

More hours tick by and he’s sweating, picking himself up off the floor and sitting on the edge of his bed, his stomach curled with fear and guilt. Guilt that he hadn’t told you about that particular kink yet and fear that you would find it disgusting. Again, nothing. 

Listen, it just slipped out. It’s not like I want that to happen right now. Or ever if you aren’t….PLEASE call me?

This is hard to explain over text. 

???

He knows you would have gotten home by now. Still the texts are delivered and not read. You are ignoring him. The only sliver of hope that he has is that the texts haven’t turned green so you haven’t blocked him. Yet.

****

He’s always had a breeding kink. It was something that appealed very early on, even when he was honestly terrified of getting a girl pregnant. He blames it on some old porno he had watched when he was twelve or thirteen. Making a lasting impression on his formative years, but beggars can’t be choosers and the ‘Pregnant Nymphos’ video had been extremely hot to him. 

He had been lucky that his late wife had been accepting of it. She hadn’t thought him weird, although he had kept it hidden until they had been trying for Missy. Then that kind of talk had been acceptable and even sexy while he was actively trying to get her pregnant with his baby. He had been allowed to explore that. Murmuring filth into her ear and moaning about how he was going to fill her up until it took. It had probably been the best sexual experiences he had. 

Now, he had been trying to keep it reined in. He wasn’t sure how you would feel about that kind of thing, even though you were pretty open sexually. Hell, you had let him fuck your ass, and slap your pussy. Although neither one of you had really cared about the pussy slapping. 

This though. This was much larger than swatting your clit or working his cock into your ass after half an hour of prep. This was something that could be a total turn off for you. He’s definitely had dates where they thought it was gross, disgusting, demeaning and even one woman had called it misogynistic, so it wasn’t like it was the top five topics he discussed. 

Marcus doesn’t sleep at all, waiting for you to text him back. Tell him to fuck off or that you weren’t going to see him again. Checking his phone almost obsessively until the late night turns into early morning and it’s time to drag himself into a shower before Missy wakes up and he has to get her off to school and himself off to work. Where you might just make his humiliation public in front of everyone at the Heroics Headquarters. 

****

Fuck. You are wearing that skirt. The one that he had first noticed you in when you started. The one that had him thinking about fucking you while he shook your hand and introduced himself although you already knew who he was. Everyone in the world knows Marcus Moreno, although he prefers to believe that they don’t. 

Your brows are lifted in greeting but you don’t say anything, making him start to sweat until his leather jacket and he swallows, looking around to make sure that no one is close by before he speaks. “We need to talk.” 

“Oh?” You play innocent, although he can see the small twist of your lips and he wonders what kind of game you are playing. “About what?”

Taking your arm, he guides you to his office. If he’s going to make an ass of himself - again - he’d rather do it in private. He wants to throw up, rubbing his hands on his pants and taking off his glasses and then putting them back on and pushing them up the bridge of his nose is a nervous tic that it more about buying time than anything. “Listen….” He cringes at the way he’s started but there’s no going back now. “About what I said-” 

“That you wanted to breed me?” You ask, deciding that now was the perfect opportunity to hop up on his fucking desk like he had imagined you six thousand times and smirk at him. “Is that what we are talking about or the hundred text messages you sent me last night.” 

Marcus huffs, embarrassed. “You didn’t answer.” He points out, as if that is any reason for melting down and sending text after text. 

“My phone was on Do Not Disturb.” You take the wind out of his sails, making his shoulder round slightly. “I didn’t see them until I was about to leave for work.” 

“Oh.” So he had a shitty, sleepless night for nothing, imagining all the ways you were ignoring him or making some mocking threat on Reddit about how your superhero boyfriend has a breeding kink. He may or may not have checked the threads about the Heroics a time or twenty. “So yeah-” 

“Do you want to breed me?” His eyes widen and for a split second nothing registers in his brain. His cock hears it loud and clear and you are very aware of that from the way your smile grows wider and you hum as you shift on his desk. 

He shakes himself out of his stupor and flusters. “I mean- not- not- not like- it’s more that- it’s a-” He stutters and stumbles over the words that are rushing around in his mind and all trying to come out at once. Until he finally just gives up and looks at you hopelessly, giving a vague shrug of his shoulders and wishing that there was some national - no, world emergency right now. Aliens would be good. 

You purse your lips, giving him a disappointed look and shaking your head. “So you don’t want me to take off my panties and beg you to fill me up?” You ask, spreading your legs as wide as your skirt would allow you to, shimmying on his desk and working it up your thighs. “You don’t want me to beg you to breed me? Fill me with your baby and fuck me full until it takes?” 

If he were a lesser man, he would be on his knees right now, begging to make that a reality. As it is, he’s already hard, mouth dropped open in surprise as his cock tents his pants and nothing but a low moan can be heard from him. Giving away that blatant desire for that exact thing. 

“Because I thought about that all night last night.” You continue on. “Even had to touch myself again. Imagining you saying that again. Demanding that I beg you for your cum.” Marcus whines, stepping closer to you as you hike your skirt up to your hips, showing off the panties you had worn today. They are sexy, like everything you wear, but the crotch is soaked. 

His chest seems to collapse and expand at the same time, unable to breathe or even think about anything but the wet spot on your panties and the warmth and wetness beneath it. The fact that you want to talk to him about breeding you while he’s buried inside that sweet little pussy. “Fuck.” 

“If you pull your pants down.” Your joke is lighthearted, meant to make him laugh but all he can do is try to follow that order as quickly as fucking possible. Harder than Miracle Man’s punches and throbbing at the mere suggestion that he gets to live out his breeding kink right now. He knows you are on birth control. That conversation has been well established, but the thought is what gets him going. 

As quick as he is pulling his cock out, your panties are pushed to the side and he is sinking into you with a groan. Kissing your lips when he’s buried to the hilt and already about to explode. “Tell me again.” He grunts out, jolting inside you when you squeeze him tight. 

Your lips against his ear makes him shiver, words cooed directly into his ear. “I want you to fuck me full, Marcus.” He smothers a groan, biting his lips so hard he will have left a mark. “I want to feel your seed inside me all day and imagine that you bred me.” 

Marcus isn’t one to growl, at least he doesn’t think that he is, but the feral rumble that echoes out of his chest can only be described as just that. A growl. His arms tightening around you and his hips pulling back so he can set a frantic pace. 

Its unhinged, fucking into you like it will be the last thing that he does. Maybe it will be because he can’t seem to draw a breath as he pushes into you again and again. Groaning and saying every filthy thing that he’s thought over the past months while he's been inside you. Hell, everything he’s thought since he’s met you. 

“Made for my cock.” He hisses, pulling your ass to the edge of the desk and pounding into you with sharp, harsh swings of his hips. “Perfect place for me to plant my seed.” 

Your pussy clenches around him, making him grin at the way you whimper his name and your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer. Wanting him to get deeper. “Fill me up.” You beg, leaning back slightly and rolling your hips down to meet his hectic thrusts. “M-Marcus please. Want it.” 

He grunts, leaning in and nipping your ear, making you yelp and clench around him again. “Going to baby. Gonna fill you up, paint your pretty little pussy full of my cum.” He hisses, rocking forward and his thighs slap against the table. 

You whimper, nodding and holding onto his shoulders while he pushes both of you higher. Every thrust rocking deep and hitting that wonderful little spot inside you that makes your toes curl. 

“You want that?” He demands, his jaw tight and the corded muscles on his neck straining. “Tell me.” 

“I want that.” You cry out softly, conscious of the fact that you are in his office and others could possibly hear you. “Marcus bred me.” Your plea is more like a wail, dragged out of you where only he can hear. 

His fingers turn to granite, digging into your hips and ass while your world explodes. Stars burst and colors flash behind your eyes while electricity seems to flow through you, consuming you. 

Marcus moans, barely lasting another thrust before he is pushing deep, grinding into you until he cums. Pouring into you like molten heat, filling you and fulfilling that desire to spill his seed inside you. “Fuck, take it.” He hisses. “Take every drop.” 

You whimper while he rocks into you, holding him to you. “Fuck Marcus, so good.” You whisper. “You fill me up so well.” 

His eyes close and smiles as he tucks his head against your neck. He had been afraid that he was going to lose you because of his breeding kink, but it turns out you might have a bit of one yourself. 

[radiowallet]

Eyes Open - Chapter One

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Amy Oliver (ofc) Summary: As the leader of the Heroics, Marcus Moreno always seems to get stuck with the worst of the legislative duties, including dealing with the local police stations. The station secretary, Amy Oliver, quickly steps in, finding subtle and not-so-subtle ways to get Marcus the information he needs. WC: 2.5K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, talk of police work, slow burn, yearning, idiots friends to lovers, financial stressors, second chance romance, workplace romance (sort of), older love interest, eventually explicit.

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Cross-Posted to AO3

>>> Chapter Two

A/N: Hello friends! It's been a very very very long time since I've posted a fic and needless to say, your girl is nervous. I've been hard at work on book prep and promotion, and in between all of that I have been plucking away at this story. I really wanted to write something fun and easy and self-indulgent. Thank you to everyone for reading!

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

----

Marcus is tired. The kind of tired that builds slowly, the feeling cresting higher and higher until it’s pulsing behind his eyes. The kind of tired that leaves him irritable and anxious, and ready to take it out on anyone or anything. His head is pounding, his body aching from the physical exertion of standing his ground for far too long. It had been what felt like hours of runaround from the chief of police; a semi-regular occurrence that he had grown far too accustomed to. The room was stuffy, the blinds pulled closed and the door shut tight, locking them in with the stale air and cigarette smoke. He fights the urge to tug at his tie, refusing to give the bullheaded ass sitting across from him the satisfaction.

Being leader of the Heroics came with quite a few headaches but the bureaucratic anxieties that came along with dealing with the local law enforcement was one of the biggest thorns in his side. 

“Sir, the Heroics have always done our best to keep the lines of communication with your precinct open. But in order to achieve that, you’ll have to meet us in the middle.”

Chief Baldwin chuckles, the sound demeaning in more ways than one. He leans back in his chair, his heels making a heavy thud as they hit his desk. “As in break protocol? Skirt the rules? Allow vigilantes free reign in my precinct and my city?” 

“I don’t see how my asking for a few unredacted case files is–”

“Forget it, Moreno!” He grins, making a show of picking up the very file Marcus had asked for. “You can go through the proper legal channels and you’ll take what I give you. Now get the hell out of my sight.” 

Marcus turns where he stands and storms out, making sure to slam the door as hard as he can, the bland, generic art hanging on the wall rattling on impact. For a moment he doesn’t move, chest heaving and fists clenching, wishing he had something (or someone) to take this simmering rage out on. Just as he’s about to start walking again, intent on completing his righteous tantrum with a moniker of dignity, a soothing voice hits his ear with the smallest of peace offerings. 

“Coffee?”

He turns to see Baldwin’s secretary staring at him from her desk, a stack of paper sitting in front of her, her pen poised above a signature line. His frown shifts, the tension melting from his shoulders as his head jerks out a nod and he falls into the seat beside her desk, the chair squeaking beneath the weight of him. 

She doesn’t say anything else, instead gripping his shoulder once before standing and stepping away. He watches her from the corner of his eye, her movements precise as she pours him a cup of dark liquid. She tears open two sugars, adding them along with a splash of cream before finally setting the navy blue mug down in front of him. She pours her own, a chipped white mug with a worn-away police badge on the front, and returns to her seat, turning her quiet gaze in Marcus’s direction. 

“You can say it,” she prompts, brown eyes watching him over the rim of her mug, the slightest hint of a smile curling along the corner of her lips.

“Your boss is a jerk.”

She doesn’t respond, but her smile shifts just a smidge wider. She takes a generous sip, humming as if she actually enjoys the taste of it. She sets her coffee to the side, and pushes up the sleeves of her cream-colored blouse, turning back to her stack of papers with renewed intent, jotting something down across the top of the page.

“The two of you have been doing this dance for years now. I’d think you’d be used to it.”

Marcus grumbles into his own coffee, refusing to respond, knowing full well how good of a point she’s making. Amy Oliver has, after all, had a front row seat to every argument between the Heroic and the chief of police from day one. She knew the pattern just as well as Marcus did, and after every instance of door slamming and name calling she was always there to help in her own way. She was one of the few people in the building who brought a smile to his face and he found that even when he knew there would be trouble, Marcus always looked forward to sitting at her desk and sipping her terrible coffee. 

“Might be time to just end these little visits. Not like they get me anywhere.”

“Don’t joke,” she gasps, her over the top pout more than comical. “What would I do for entertainment around here without the two of you having your little pissing matches? My job?”

He rolls his eyes, but her smile is contagious, and before he can stop himself, he’s hiding his own behind his mug. 

“Perish the thought.”

“The audacity,” she murmurs mostly to herself, checking another box with a bit too much flourish, her ponytail swinging from the effort. “How was your weekend? Did Missy end up going out with what’s his name? The one who’s death you’ve been daydreaming about?”

Marcus feels his smile slip at the change in topic, but Amy doesn’t miss a single beat. “She did! I love this! How did Marcus Moreno, leader of the Heroics, handle his baby girl going out on a date?” 

“I’ll have you know I handled it great.”

The admission seems to finally have her full attention. She drops her pen and leans forward on her elbows, the tips of her fingers just grazing the tops of his thighs. 

“Define ‘great’?” 

Marcus swallows hard, ignoring the heat swirling deep in his belly, even as he feels himself lean, just barely, into her phantom touch. Amy, for her part, takes his silence in stride, reading between the lines of everything he doesn’t say.

“Let me guess? Sharpening those silly swords at the kitchen table when he came to pick her up? A stern reminder of curfew while also demonstrating superhuman strength? A text or two under the guise of ‘checking in’?”

He barks out a laugh at how keen her eye really is. “Alright, you got me! I may have leaned a little hard into the protective dad thing.”

“And I bet Missy was still home by curfew.”

“A few minutes early, actually. Not sure why I worry so much.”

Her hand is on his knee before he even has a chance to register the feeling, another comforting squeeze, there and gone faster than he can pull air into his lungs. “Because you’re a dad.”

He coughs and takes another sip of coffee, an action meant only to help slow his racing heart, and leans further back in his chair.

“How was your weekend?”

“Oh, big Saturday night. My mom sent Harris Candy Land. So, naturally we had to play it 5,000 times in a row.”

Marcus feels his chest fill with a different kind of warmth, picturing Amy and her 7 year old daughter going toe to toe over the same board game he and Missy would play night after night. She could downplay it all she wanted, but he knows that when given the chance to spend quality time with her daughter, Amy would play as many repetitive games as there were stars in the sky. 

“You wouldn’t believe how many times she beat me, Marcus! I swear! This weekend I’m pulling out Monolopy and letting her taste my wrath.”

“Big words,” he teases, admiring the way her cheeks heat up beneath his own gentle ribbing.

When their snickers finally start to subside Marcus moves to refill both their mugs while Amy continues to work. She thanks him, easily splitting her focus in a way he’s always been jealous of. She checks a few more boxes and signs one paper after another, all the while never letting her bright eyes and impish grin stray from his attention. She doesn’t falter, even in the throes of her gentle teasing, and Marcus wishes he could spend the rest of his day sitting across from her.

And then, as if she can read his mind, “Can you stay for lunch today?”

“No,” he sighs, hating the taste of the word more than the shit Amy calls coffee. “I have to get back. The rest of the team will be waiting for me.” He takes one final sip of coffee before standing, knocking his fist against her desk in lieu of goodbye. 

“Okay, well, can you toss these files in the shredder for me on the way out the door? I have to get a presentation set up for a briefing, and I’m already behind.”

“Of course,” Marcus agrees, accepting the stack of papers that she had been carefully chipping away at since he walked in this morning.  

“Thanks, handsome,” Amy quips, turning back to the computer screen, the click of her mouse following him as he goes. When he gets to the shredder he stops and tosses one single piece of paper away, taking care to fold the rest in half before sliding them into the breast pocket of his jacket. Once outside, he walks quickly to his car, only stopping briefly to send a quick text.

M: Thank you 

A: For what?

She always was a pro at playing dumb.

It would have been easy to mistake Amy as a wallflower, her eyes always pointed down, her lips seemingly sealed tight, fetching coffee and filing paperwork with zero complaints. She knew the precinct better than anyone, and though every cop in the building would rather die than admit it, she was the reason that place made any difference.

It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a secretary was underestimated. 

But it wasn’t long before she proved that very notion wrong, finding Marcus after his very first argument with Baldwin, pushing a crumpled piece of paper into his hand along with a crappy cup of station coffee. When he smoothed it open later that day, it was to find a list of suspects, hastily scribbled in Amy’s beautifully looped cursive. 

Neither of them mentioned it again, but the tips kept coming, subtle and not so subtle alike. Case files meant for the shredder that never made it, heavy boxes carried to the evidence locker under the guise of a favor, and one hilarious time when a phone number had been penciled into five down on a Monday morning crossword puzzle. Each one had helped him avoid the legislative tape wrapped securely around police work, and Marcus was eternally grateful for all she did to help him and the other Heroics. 

Even if he couldn’t tell a single soul.

M: Next time I’m around, lunch is on me.

Marcus tries not to think about how it’ll probably be a few weeks before he shows his face around the precinct again, especially considering the confidential information he had just been handed. It always felt prudent to keep a low profile after these run-ins with Baldwin. He picks up his pace, anxious to get back to Heroics headquarters and begin parsing through the case report tucked out of sight, his detective skills already thrumming to life with the potential of new puzzle pieces.

It’s another helpful distraction from the lingering memory of her comforting grip around his shoulder, the hint of her smile over the rim of a chipped coffee mug, the teasing lilt of sweet adorations that he knows don’t mean a thing.

-------------

Amy takes care to keep her eyes forward, watching Marcus over the top of her computer monitor, only catching a glimpse of his hands as he tosses away some of the pieces of paper she had handed him, and pocketing the rest. The transition is seamless, and she can’t help but swell with pride as the Heroic disappears completely from view, the front door of the precinct swinging shut behind him.

Her concentration is broken by another stack of papers hitting the corner of her desk. From the sound of the dull thud it gives, she already knows the rest of her afternoon is now spoken for. But, she reasons, at least it should help the hours tick by just a little bit faster. 

“I swear. That Moreno. He just doesn’t know when to call it quits.”

She casts an eye over her shoulder at her boss, refusing to feel any sort of shame for being caught staring. It was hardly the first time she had let her eyes linger on the width of his shoulders or the cut of his jaw, unable to deny how handsome the man is. She was only human after all.

Today had been just like any other, Marcus’s righteous fury boiling away to reveal his tender heart, joking along with her as he slowly relaxed back into himself. Amy could feel the heat making a home in her cheeks, unable to look away from his plush lips as they formed around a laugh or the stretch of his skin as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. But for all her stolen glances and coy flirting, she knew she could never bear to ask for more, not willing to risk the precious friendship they’d built together over the years. 

“You could try playing ball with the Heroics every once and a while.”

“He’s a bleeding heart, Oliver. Walking around with superpowers and worrying about petty police business. Best not to get too hung up on him.”

A bleeding heart is one way to put it. 

A good man is another. 

A rare find in a world full of men and women alike who were anything but. Amy had had her fair share of experience with those, Harris’s dad the best example she could conjure up. But it hardly mattered. He was gone and she and Harris were better off for it. 

And if given the choice she’d gladly take Marcus’s bleeding heart over the man who walked out when there were two lines on the stick instead of one. 

Derek stares down at her, dark eyes nearly piercing where they pin her in place. For the briefest of moments, white hot panic slices through her heart and she worries he’d seen the case report Marcus had slipped out of sight. But then he’s turning away, reaching for the coffee pot that lives behind her desk, pouring the last dregs of dark liquid into his cup. 

“But we’re all on the same side. Right? Derek?”

Amy watches the older man for a minute longer, doing her best to listen to the steady beat of his silence for any lingering secrets. But Derek Baldwin has always been best at keeping things close to the vest, and his true feelings towards the Heroics were no exception. He taps two fingers on the stack of papers, his movement firm, his orders concise. 

“Finish these up and then you can head out for the night.”

“Sir?”

“Take the afternoon. See your kid. You’ve earned it.”

Amy can’t help but smirk, ducking her head and pulling the papers close, anxious to finish up and head home. 

If only he knew the whole truth. 

Earned it doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

------------

>>> Chapter Two

A/N: All my love and thanks go out to @jazzelsaur who has listened to me talk about these two (and silly book stuff) basically non-stop. Really, truly, I can't believe I get to call you my friend. How is that possible????

[ladamedusoif]

Music (Marcus Moreno x Music Teacher F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 5

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, follow @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Music Teacher F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Fluff; intended as taking place after the events of We Can Be Heroes; one very tiny minor swear; Missy plays the trumpet; some references to Christmas carols and A Christmas Carol; yes the denouement is partly inspired by a scene in Love, Actually; no physical descriptions of reader; no use of Y/N; Marcus Moreno in a Fair Isle sweater.

Word count: 1565

Summary: Marcus Moreno is a Band Dad. You’re Missy’s music teacher and director of the junior high school orchestra. And you might have a tiny crush on a Heroic. And where better to realise that than at the holiday concert?

“Marcus. Marcus. MARCUS!”

Anita Moreno stands in the doorway of her son’s kitchen, wondering why Marcus is so oblivious to her voice as he empties the dishwasher, back turned. 

“Oh, shit!” He lets a plate fall, startled by the seemingly sudden apparition of his mother. “Hi, Mom.” Marcus removes a pair of earplugs, scoops up the broken crockery, and crosses the room to embrace Anita.

“Earplugs, mijo?”

He shrugs and points upstairs, in the general direction of his daughter Missy’s bedroom. The strains of the trumpet solo on Joy to the World float through the house.

“She’s practicing extra hard for the holiday concert in a couple of weeks. She’s really good, Mom, she’s a star soloist. But… there’s only so many times you can hear the same stuff."

Anita huffs a laugh. “Been there, done that. I was secretly very glad when you decided you didn’t want to keep up piano lessons.”

Your rehearsal with the school orchestra is winding to a close with a final run through of Carol of the Bells, when you catch a glimpse of Marcus Moreno slipping quietly into the little auditorium and taking a seat near the back. He nods towards you in recognition, and you return the gesture while continuing to conduct the musicians. 

Missy joined the orchestra a couple of months after her mother died, the camaraderie and creative outlet a useful form of therapy for a grieving child. Marcus, understandably, had been a little protective of her at first: ensuring he was there to pick her up after evening rehearsals, insisting on driving her to weekend day-long training and performance events, and always being one of the first to arrive for every show.

You had a quiet, teacherly pride in the way Missy had grown in confidence and independence since joining the group. Marcus still sometimes arrived early for pick up, settling in to hear the last piece of music at the back of the room, just like this evening. And he remained an enthusiastic “band dad”, as his Heroic colleagues teasingly called him. He’d worked closely with you on fundraising events over the years, and gladly used his public profile to boost support for programmes designed to give instruments to children otherwise unable to afford them. You had come to enjoy spending time with him, quietly thrilled whenever he would appear at rehearsal or join you at funding drives.

The final note rings out from the handbell section. Your hand signal marks the end of the piece. The teenagers begin chattering excitedly, and Marcus “Band Dad” Moreno applauds in the back row. 

You can’t help but laugh when he starts cheering “Bravo!”, sending a mortified Missy diving for cover behind her trumpet case. He swiftly walks down the aisle when he notices you struggling to fold up the portable music stands, insisting on lending a hand as you start wrangling them off stage. He makes short work of it, lifting them with little to no effort and carrying them in his strong arms.

“Sounding great, as always,” he muses, stacking the stands in the little music store room. “I’m really looking forward to the show. Missy’s been practicing every minute she gets, she’s so excited about that solo.”

“She’s a talented musician, Marcus.” You lean in conspiratorially. “Even so, I hope you have invested in those earplugs I recommended. No matter how talented she is.”

He smiles that warm, genuine smile that somehow feels like the sun coming out, even in the depths of midwinter, and leans even closer. “Two pairs, just in case. And thank you. Seriously, thank you.”

“Has anyone heard from Missy?”

Your musicians shake their heads. It’s 6.55pm, the show is due to begin at seven, and there’s no sign of your lead trumpeter. The students have been trying to contact her on every social platform they can (and that’s a lot), and you’ve left a voicemail for Marcus.

“I’m going to try her dad one more time. For now: please take your places. If she doesn’t show, we’ll just have to fudge Joy to the World.”

Your left hand twitches nervously as you pace around backstage, listening to the ringing tone on the other end of the line. The telltale click of a call going to voicemail makes your heart sink. 

“Marcus, hi, just me again. Um, we’re a little worried to have not heard from you or Missy and we hope you’re both okay. Please don’t panic and get here whenever you can, okay? But be safe. Hope you’re safe.”

As you hang up, you realise just how worried you are about them. 

Marcus is getting out of his car before it has fully come to a halt, grabbing Missy’s bags and setting off at speed in the direction of the back entrance into the auditorium when his daughter calls him back. 

“Dad! You forgot to turn off the engine?”

He swears under his breath, sprints back to the vehicle, and grabs Missy by the hand as they run into the school. 

“Do you think we’ve missed your solo? I’m so sorry, sweetheart, you know how work gets sometimes and -”

Missy thinks for a moment, listening carefully to the music coming from the auditorium as she leads her dad down the narrow backstage corridors. “No, they’re still on In the Bleak Midwinter,” she whispers in reply. “Then there’s an intermission, and then it’s Joy to the World.”

Marcus exhales in relief, but keeps up his pace. “Phew. Okay. Guess we have to wait for intermission, right? Do you feel okay? Able to go on? Not too out of breath?”

Missy pats her dad on the arm. “It’s fine, Dad. I’ve got this.”

The orchestra and vocalists file off for the short intermission and you follow close behind, mentally trying to work out how to cover up the missing solo in the second half of the show. 

And there they are. Missy, silently practicing on her silver trumpet, while Marcus, wearing a dark green sweater with a Fair Isle pattern around the yoke, stands with his arms folded and what can only be described as a look of sheer anxiety on his face.

“You’re here! You’re okay! I mean, uh… you made it!”

Marcus looks up at the sound of your voice and shrugs apologetically. “I’m so sorry, it was…work stuff, I can’t… I’m so sorry, is it still okay for Missy to perform? She’s worked so hard and -”

Instinctively, you place a reassuring hand on his forearm. He feels warm and solid under the soft yarn. 

“Breathe, Marcus. Of course she’s performing. I’m just so happy you’re both here.”

He unfolds his arms, visibly relaxing, and lightly touches your shoulder. “I’m happy we’re here, too.”

Is he…blushing?

Missy’s solo is, as expected, a triumph. She plays better than she’s ever done before, the house erupting in applause as the piece ends and she takes a special bow. 

You have a little break now from conducting duties, as the orchestra remains on stage while a couple of students from the drama club perform extracts from A Christmas Carol. You return backstage to get a drink of water, and find Marcus standing behind the black curtains serving as a backdrop, peeking through and beaming with pride and delight at his daughter.

“She’s wonderful, Marcus.” 

He nods as you stand beside him. “She is. But she has a great teacher, too. You’ve been so important to us - I mean, to her - the last few years.”

Now it’s your turn to feel heat rise through your body as you become aware of just how close you are to him, of the feelings that refuse to go away, no matter how much you try to suppress them. 

Even in the semi-darkness, you can see how he’s looking at you from behind his glasses. Warm. Kind. And…wanting?

There’s no one else around. Everyone else is either on stage or in the auditorium. 

You move closer simultaneously, leaning in and inclining your head in anticipation of what you think - hope - is about to happen. And then those big, broad hands are caressing your face and cradling it as his plush lips meet yours, his moustache a little ticklish against the soft skin of your mouth, and your arms wrap around Marcus’s broad body as his kiss intensifies.

The student acting as narrator is declaiming how Ebenezer Scrooge was a second father to Tiny Tim - who did not die - as Marcus Moreno holds you tight and kisses you. Even Dickens couldn’t top this.

And then you forget, for an instant, where you are. Marcus shifts just a little too much to the right, you move with him, and with a thundering crash the backdrop falls from the rigging to the floor, exposing the two of you wrapped around each other.

The kid playing Tiny Tim isn’t going to let anything interrupt his big moment, not even the music teacher making out with a literal superhero on stage during the big holiday concert. As the auditorium gasps, the orchestra swivels and stares, and Missy slumps forward and groans, he doesn’t miss a beat as he throws his arms wide and proclaims: “God bless us, every one!”

[bluestar22x]

Second Chances Masterlist

Series Summary: Marcus Moreno finds love again when he’s not looking for it

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x OFC!Elena (Latina)

Rating: 18+ (mainly for Part 4)

Warnings: Family & romantic fluff, grief talk, later smut and pregnancy, POV changes (2nd person for Elena, 3rd person for Marcus)

Author’s Note: I’ve said before that if I’m being honest Marcus M would probably be the Pedro character I’d be most likely to marry out of them all (personality stuff), so of course I’ve been itching to write for this sweetie for a while now and to include all my favorite romantic/family tropes. I’ve been missing writing fanfic, so why not now?

xxx

Part 1: Second Chance Life

Part 2: Second Chance Meeting

Part 3: Second Chance Date

Part 4: Second Chance Love

Part 5: Second Chance Proposal

Part 6: Second Chance Family

Part 7: Second Chance News

Part 8: Second Chance Changes

Part 9: Second Chance Spirit

Part 10: Second Chance Addition

xxx

Post Series

Never Forgotten

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

[simpingcowboy]

If It Wasn't For The Nights

Pairing: just Marcus Moreno missing his wife, no reader/no pairing

Word Count: 1.5K+

Warnings: ANGST! Themes of grief, fear of loss, feelings of parental inadequacy, widowing, some negative self talk and self-consciousness, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Summary: Marcus could deal with the passing of his wife...if it wasn't for the nights.

A/N: Me writing another grief themed Moreno fic...who would have guessed. March brings us the first angsty fic for my Year of ABBA! Part of the incredible Year of Creations @yearofcreation2023 !

Please heed the warnings and know that this does not have a particularly positive ending! <3

The day began as most, Marcus Moreno waking up bright and early. Lances of light piercing through the soft eggshell curtains. Cloaked in the warmth of day, he begins pacing himself through his extensive morning routine. Wake up. Shower. Make the bed. Wake up Missy. Start the coffee. Turn on the news. Cook breakfast. Check his itinerary. Get dressed. Drop Missy off at school. Before finally, starting his work day at the Heroics headquarters. Beginning a long day of appointments. Meeting with military personnel, government officials, city council, press, HR, the heroics themselves, anyone and everyone who requested a word with him. Accompanied by an even longer day of work. Paperwork, strategy plans, team analyses, weapon development, public statements, heroic training, taking on extra work when asked by teammates. All with the same goal. To keep him busy all the day through. To keep himself from thinking of her.

But as the sun sank down into the sky, so too did Marcus’s resolve.

The first pang of the day followed lunch. With the sun high overhead, Marcus heads out to join the team on the training field. The Heroic’s training regime was strict. Personally adapted to each heroic and their individual skill set. Everyday focused on a different element of their talents. Though Marcus was exempt from fighting, he still chose to partake in the exercises. Always setting an example for the rest of the team. And for a moment, everything feels right. It feels normal. Training on the field with his fellow heroics, basking in the thrill of a fight. Glowing with pride to be a part of the most elite team on the planet, just to be reminded that Marcus Moreno doesn’t fight.

Everyone believed it was for Missy. A promise he made to her so she'd not have to lose another parent so young. But Missy would have never asked had Marcus not said it first. She was too brave. Too bold. Too much like her mother to discourage him from fighting. But Marcus had asked her, with a silent plea that she would say yes. Beg him not to fight. To hang up his katanas like he so wished to do, but was too prideful to admit on his own. Thankfully for Marcus, Missy said yes.

He recalls that first battle after his wife died. His hands, his lifelong companions, had shook with uncertainty. Mind, ever clear and focused, was riddled with fear. No move he made was steady. No direction he gave confident. They’d barely cleared the mission. And all Marcus could think of, was how much more disastrous it could have been if the threat was worse. He imagined losing them. All of them. His friends. Coworkers. People he’d known since he was a child. Losing them to his own cowardice and fear. And if it wasn’t for the nights of lonesome terror, maybe he'd even have strength left to fight alongside his fellow heroics. Instead of being resigned to coaching from the sidelines.

It only worsened after that. Shadows befell the office. Stretching longer and growing darker with the passing hours. A restlessness consuming Marcus, like a great pit in his stomach. Motivating him to fill the time with more and more work. Busy busy Moreno. Who began his days slow and steady, but was a frantic workaholic by day's end. He got jumpy. Temperamental at times. Snapping at anyone who interrupts his work flow. Anyone who makes him think. And it was obvious to everyone who had known him before, Marcus was not alright. But somehow, he thinks, he’d be doing alright if it wasn’t for the nights.

Much to Marcus’s dismay, the day does end. Twilight flitters on the horizon. The crowd of workers in the Heroics headquarters slowly disappear, as if they’d been devoured by the dusk. As the final reminder to leave rings on Marcus’s phone, he too must succumb to the setting sun. After closing up the various tabs on his computer, he heads out the door. The drive is quiet. Just Marcus and his mind locked in a standoff. A contest of wills. Thoughts of her blurring the edges of his vision. Appearing faintly, like the pale light of the moon barely visible in the sky. But there’s still a light, He reasons. Hanging low in the sky, and reflecting off the moon. She’s there too. Missy.

Marcus breaths out a heavy sigh of relief as he breaches the doorway, a familiar laughter is heard from the living room. Missy lounges across the warm suede couch, scrolling through her phone. And suddenly the world is a little lighter. They chat- briefly before he goes upstairs to change out of his work clothes. Both clothes and briefcase haphazardly find their way to the floor. A bad habit he was never fully broken of. He returns downstairs and gets to prepping dinner. Missy sits up at the kitchen island, ignoring the pile of homework in front of her in favor of chatting Marcus’s ear off. All of which he listens to attentively. Basking in the light of her youth. Letting her block out the bitter darkness that infiltrates their home.

Dinner comes and goes. Marcus serves up a mediocre meal. And though it's burnt around the edges and woefully seasoned, Missy still finds a way to compliment him on it where she can. Relishing in the way the corners of Marcus's mouth turn up into a smile when she does. And though she doesn't remember much of what he was like before, she likes to think that in these moments she gets a glimpse at who he used to be. A look at the man her mother married.

A rush of sorrow hits Marcus, as Missy is all too quick to ask to be excused. Bounding from the table up to her room. The tween years came too quickly for his liking. Too large a distance had grown between them. They were still close, but she grew more independent by the day. His pride and joy. Everyday he was reminded that the light of his life, Missy, would never need him as much as he needed her. And if it wasn’t for the nights, even he could take it.

But there’s no one to turn to. No one who would understand. He was not prepared for something like this. The loneliness of being a widow. The difficulty that comes with raising a teenage girl on his own. He sees them all so clearly, all his mistakes. His pitiful failures to be everything Missy needs. And he feels so bad. At the end of the long hallway, the door to her bedroom shuts, drowning the hall in darkness. A terrible panging guilt filling Marcus’s chest as he tirelessly scrubs away at the dishes. He never did get the hang of cooking. Even on his best tries, a portion of his attempt always makes its way into the trash. Cooking was her specialty. The once sweet aromas of his wife’s cooking, were now displaced by the bitter scent of his subpar meals. Just one of many inadequacies he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make up for. Just one of a million things he misses about her. As he flees the empty kitchen and turns out the light, It feels as if he’s never gonna make it.

Moreno saunters up the stairs. Doing his best to ignore the still hanging photos of his wife on the wall; lest he remain there staring at them til morning. His breath is heavy as his hands land on the knob of his bedroom door. The final pang of his long day was about to incur as it always did when he saw the wide empty bed awaiting him. With his last ounce of bravery, Marcus turns the knob, throwing the door wide open. Fresh linen sheets greet him. Suddenly looking much rattier than he ever recalls them looking in the morning. Moonlight dusts the empty room through the cool toned curtains. The moon itself hangs just in view, taunting his loneliness.

He had work to help him through the day. People he had to write to. Bills he had to pay. A child to care for. But everythings so different when night finally came. Robbing him of the solace of day. Freeing him of the distractions. Bringing him to that precious time of day he’d have just for her. When he’d wrap her in his arms and fawn over her. Spend hours getting lost in each other. Talking about their days. Their dreams. Their memories. All of which is now lost to time. The heavyweight of remembrance pins him to the bed and leaves him staring at the wall. Marcus Moreno shuts his eyes and tries to ease his agony.

His job…

The Heroics…

His friends…

Missy…

Maybe he could take it. Maybe he’d make it...

Yes, even he could see a light, if it wasn’t for the nights.

Marcus even guesses that his future would look bright…

If it wasn’t for the nights.

[deadhumourist]

YSC: Heartbeat

Sliding in at the last second, January's entry for Year of Science Fiction, as part of the lovely @oonajaeadira and @writeforfandoms' @yearofcreation2023! It's a microfic because this month was a beast IRL.

Pairing: GN!Reader x Marcus Moreno (Older Marcus Moreno looks like Joel, sorry not sorry! - Takes place a quite a few years after the movie)

Rating: Mature due to sci-fi themes, no spice

WC: 500+ words

Warnings: OOC Marcus, body modification, mention of operations and scars, doctors, dark themes, reader has no physical description and no pronouns. If I missed anything let me know.

Author Masterlist

He was a man with heart, once upon a time. 

He was a man who had a heart until the universe snatched her away and the acidic tendrils of grief burnt through the most powerful and most vulnerable muscle in his body.

He was a sick man. The Heroics Chief of Medicine's voice was flat and emotionless when he said: "Marcus, your ticker is on its last legs. Take it easy."

He was a man who didn't listen. He continued as if the doctor had never spoken, and fought injustice. The injustice of others and of himself without her. And the unbearable loneliness. 

He was a man who was dying. Fingertips digging into the warm, warped tarmac next to him, heart hammering in his chest, panicked, a Morse code for mercy against his sternum. 

Then it stopped. 

When Marcus awakens, the world is curiously quiet. He does not hear the blood whining in his ears or the crackle of ageing cartilage. 

And he does not feel a heartbeat. Not as strong and sure as it had always been. 

Next to his bed, you stand quietly while he orients himself. The white coat fits straight and creaseless around your shoulders, perfectly spotless. Your voice is soft and comforting when you speak, meeting his eyes evenly but kindly. 

"Marcus, we had to replace your heart."

He looks down in a panic, tries to rip the hospital gown off but you stop him, taking his hand in both of yours for a moment before setting it down.

"It will take time to heal, don't cause yourself further pain by looking."

Marcus remembers the pain of every time he looked. 

The anaesthetic means that Marcus is a raw nerve and he doesn't try to stop the unshed tears when they cascade over his cheek. You stop yourself from reaching out by gripping your clipboard until your fingertips pulsate against the white printouts pinned to the hard surface. 

You clear your throat instead. 

"It's made of titanium and doesn't beat like a normal heart, but it will be strong. You will keep living, Marcus."

He may be alive but he hasn't lived in so many years. 

Marcus turns away from you, speaking to the window.

"Everyone is gone. I’m older. I’ve done what you’ve wanted me to do.”

His voice cracks on every second syllable like he’s struggling to talk.

“I don’t want to anymore. Let me go."

Your voice takes on a steely, quiet quality. 

"You will be kept alive, Marcus. Other organs have already been created should you fall on the battlefield, we will be ready. Marcus, leader of the Heroics"

He shudders at the way you speak the last sentence like an incantation. Like a mantra that had been imprinted. 

He turns back to you. You look unperturbed and he wonders why he doesn't remember any specific details. It’s only when he sees more grey in the mirror and another scar that stretches across his hip, or underneath his navel. He has seen them heal slowly. The puckered, angry red indignance at another organic failure fade into a white, raised scar that carries no memory or sadness. He can feel himself become less with each replacement. 

"How many times?"

You look down at your hands, running your thumb over your nails.

"Five. This will be number five."

[pintsizemama]

Christmas Cards

Day 29

Welcome to the 2022 Christmas Writing Challenge!

Summary: You and Missy get creative with Christmas cards.

Pairings: Marcus Moreno x Female Reader, Marcus Moreno x You

Fandom: We Can Be Heroes

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 501

Day 28 Day 30 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

Marcus walked in through the front door, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. Why did villains seem to always ramp up their activity around Christmas? He heard giggling coming from the dining room. He smiled at the sound. Ever since you had moved in the house was filled with so much happiness it was practically bursting at the seams. Missy was crazy about you, and so was he. He hurried to the dining room to see his girls.

“I’m home,” he announced as soon as he turned into the room.

“Dad!” Missy called out excitedly. “Come look what we’re doing!” You looked up at him and smiled. God, he loved that smile. He kissed Missy on top of the head as he walked by on his way to you.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said. He leaned down and kissed you softly on the mouth. “Hey, baby.”

“How was your day?” You asked when he pulled away.

“Ugh,” he sighed. “Exhausting. Sometimes I hate being back in the field.” He glanced at the mess on the table. “What’s all this?”

“We’re making a scrapbook for our first Christmas as a family!” Missy told him excitedly. Marcus swallowed past the emotions clogging his throat.

“Is that so?” He asked thickly.

“Yeah,” she continued on, “and we’re using all the Christmas cards that people have been sending. This way, they don’t just end up in the trash.”

“That’s a really great idea,” Marcus said in awe. They got hundreds of cards—sometimes thousands—every year since he was a very famous superhero. People from all over the world sent cards to headquarters and someone delivered them to the house all throughout the Christmas season.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Missy admitted. She looked to you.

“It was what I did with my family growing up,” you explained. “We didn’t have a lot of money, and my mom was very crafty. She never let anything go to waste.”

“Well, I think it’s a fantastic idea, and we should do it every year,” Marcus decreed.

“Yeah!” Missy agreed immediately. “We can make a few pages every year, and eventually have a monster size scrapbook to show my kids one day!”

“Oh, no, don’t start talking about you having kids, Missy,” Marcus groaned. “Not yet, I can’t handle it.”

“Dad,” Missy said with an eye roll. “It’s still like twenty years before you have to worry about that.”

“Thank God,” he sighed. You laughed.

“You want to help us?” You asked him.

“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. He sat down next to you and started sorting through the cards. “What to I do? Just find something I like on a card and cut it out?”

“Exactly,” you answered.

“Easy peasy,” Marcus smiled. “Let’s get to work…and maybe we order pizza for dinner so we don’t have to stop to cook.”

“YES!” Missy shouted. His daughter was nuts for pizza. He smiled and watched you both for a moment. This was the first Christmas in a long time that felt complete.

Day 30

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[flightlessangelwings]

Kinktober Day 8- Voice Kink

Marcus Moreno x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 1.1k

Warnings- smut (18+ only), fingering, praise kink, dirty talk, established relationship, sweet Marcus, use of “good girl” and “yes ma’am”

Notes- So I originally had Frankie Morales for this one, but I decided to switch it out, and I’m glad I saved Frankie for another one! And I’m so happy with how this one came out too, I just kinda let it flow as I wrote it lol! List provided by the lovely @the-purity-pen​!

To say up to date on when I post, follow my update blog too and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​​. Reblogs highly appreciated!

~

“Hey baby,” Marcus walked up behind where you stood in the kitchen and purred in your ear as he rested his hands on your hips, “I’ve missed you.”

You gasped, startled as you didn’t hear him come through the door. But you quickly spun around and wrapped your arms around his shoulders and embraced him tightly, “Marcus,” you breathed.

Marcus hummed as he ran his hands up and down your sides, caressing every inch of your body as he held you tightly. He whispered your name and placed soft kisses along the side of your face. “You smell so good honey,” his tone was low yet soft.

You let out a moan at his words. Marcus was always heavy on the praise, but you also just couldn’t get enough of simply listening to his voice. You loved the way he said your name in that low tone, you loved when he called you one of his many pet names for you, you loved when he went on about how much he loved you. Just hearing the words from his lips made a rush of need pulse through you, and Marcus noticed.

He turned you around and kissed your lips. What started gentle quickly turned more heated as he dipped his tongue into your mouth and played with yours. Marcus swallowed the moan you let out as you clung to him and surrendered yourself to his kiss. While still locked together, Marcus ushered you back up against the counter and guided your body so that he helped you push yourself up onto the countertop.

“Marcus…” you whispered as he kissed his way along your jaw.

You both tugged at the other’s shirts, and in a flash both of you were topless in the middle of the kitchen. Suddenly, you were grateful Missy was away for the weekend, otherwise you and Marcus might have had an awkward conversation with her later. But for now, it was just the two of you, and you were both ready to take full advantage of the alone time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke with such adoration before he wrapped his arms around you again and made himself comfortable between your parted legs. 

“Mmm,” was all you could respond with as Marcus’ large hands cupped your breasts. Somehow, between the way he squeezed and kneaded your flesh and ran his fingers across your nipples, you found your voice, “Keep talking, baby.”

Marcus smirked as he rested his forehead against yours, “You like when I tell you how gorgeous you are? Or how good you are for me?”

A whimper escaped your lips as his hands ran down the front of your body, “Yeah…” you paused as his fingers worked to free you of your pants, “But I just like hearing your voice more than anything.”

Heat rose in your body as Marcus yanked your pants off with a groan, and you only needed to shift slightly to allow him to remove them. And you glanced down and noticed he took your panties along with them, leaving you completely bare on the kitchen counter. When you looked up and met his gaze, you saw a newfound passion behind those dark eyes.

“You like when I talk to you, huh?” he asked softly with a grin. Marcus cupped your pussy and stroked his fingers along your folds, “Answer me,” his command was hushed yet his words still held weight.

You trembled in his grip as you clung to his shoulders, “I do,” you whispered and suddenly felt embarrassed at your confession. 

Marcus only smiled as he slowly pushed two fingers into you, “Well,” he purred as you let out a loud moan, “I like when you scream for me,” he pumped his fingers in a steady and gentle rhythm, “I like when you’re so wet around me,” he kissed your lips, “I like when you’re so good for me like this.”

“Marcus…” you moaned louder as he filled you with his fingers over and over again. 

“You’re so pretty when you let go like this,” Marcus groaned as he cock strained in his pants. He never tore his eyes away from your face as he kept his forehead against yours and pumped his fingers a little faster, “I love the sounds you make too, baby.”

All you could do was moan and cry out as Marcus thrust his fingers even deeper into you. “Yes,” he cooed, “That’s it sweetheart.”

He tightened his grip on your hip with his other hand as he pushed his fingers into your pussy as deep as he possibly could. You threw your head back and cried out loudly as Marcus’ fingers hit spots inside you that you didn’t even think were possible. With his fingers fully buried in you, Marcus used his thumb and rubbed at your clit with expert precision. 

“Oh fuck… Marcus…” you shook as you dug your nails into his shoulders.

“I know baby,” he thrust his fingers once and stilled them deeply inside you again, “You feel so good… My good girl,” he crooked his fingers and stroked your inner walls while his thumb rubbed harder and faster on your clit, “Now let me see how pretty you look when you cum on my fingers. Show me how beautiful my lady is.”

The sound of his voice paired with how he worked you so well sent you over the edge and with a loud scream you came hard. Your pussy gushed into Marcus’ hand as he massaged your core and hit every spot that drove you wild. Tears filled your eyes as you clung to him for dear life as you rode out your climax on his thick fingers.

Just as Marcus brought you to your peak, he helped you down just as thoroughly and he slowed his movements as the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through you. He groaned as your pussy clenched his fingers hard until he stilled himself completely. Once he was sure he pulled every ounce of climax from you, Marcus slowly pulled his fingers out of you and wrapped his arms around you.

“You alright, baby?” he whispered in your ear and he kissed the side of your face and caressed your back.

“Perfect,” you replied, “I love you Marcus.”

He smiled, “I love you too, honey.”

As much as you wanted to stay like this forever, you felt the strain of Marcus’ clothed cock and you smirked as you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes, “Now how about I take care of you,” your tone was low as you pushed yourself off the counter, “But as long as you keep talking.”

Marcus’ skin heated as he swallowed hard, “Yes ma’am.”

[words-are-fireproof]

Like Ribbons on Wrists

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x OFC!Keilah

Updates on Thursdays starting 10/6

Summary: Unaware of her powers, Keilah Kipp enters society and tries to live a normal life, albeit one of loneliness--most of it, her own design. That is, until she starts working at Heroics HQ. One day, she runs into Marcus Moreno and her whole world tilts on its axis. As she and Marcus get close, Keilah slowly discovers who she is, her powers, and how to wield them.

Rating: T for now.

Content: age gap, family interference, workplace dynamics, CPTSD, disabled original character, disabled canon character. Will add more.

Entries

Bendice Las Estrellas (Part 1)

Meeting Marcus (Part 2)

Disquietude (Part 3)

With The Kids in the Gym (Part 4)

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2022: October 7th

Day 7: Bath/Shower Sex // Sensory Deprivation // Temperature Play

Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning: Vaginal sex, nipple play, 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.

The steam curls around you, heating up the entire room and filling it with the hazy mist. The sound of the shower covering the small sounds that the glass door doesn’t. Even if there is a door, a bedroom and another door between you and the hallway, you still wouldn’t want a set of ears to hear what is happening. 

“Fuck.” Your hot forehead presses against the cool tiles, enjoying the refreshing feeling as his wet, slick body presses up against your back. His lips press against your shoulder tenderly and his hands are practically magical as he cups your breasts. 

“Missed you.” Marcus murmurs, trying not to keep his lips off of your skin for long. The slow drag of his cock inside of you is so much more sedate that the clawing need inside his chest. How he had rushed home to see you, touch you. 

It had been years since he had felt this…desire. Since his first wife, Missy’s mother had passed. He had thought that he would never have it again, content to play the role of father to his daughter and try to manage as best he could. Until you. 

Until you brought the passion back to his life. The sadness that was apparently embedded in him that no one could see until he had started smiling more. Until his voice was a little more upbeat and his stance a little taller. 

As soon as he had been dropped off at home, he rushed inside. Kissing Missy and hugging her to reassure her that he was okay before he had been told you were upstairs. Taking a shower. Then he could think of nothing else but joining you. 

You had already been stripped down. Skin wet and warm with the water. Freshly scrubbed when he had walked into the steamy room. He loves the gloves you wear. The material washes away dirt and grime and skin cells from your body to leave you soft and smooth. Letting him caress you softly and marvel over it. 

Now his hands are cupping your tits, massaging them and using them to anchor himself to you, as if the stiff length of him impaling you isn’t quite enough. It’s not. It’s never enough. The water beats on his back and nothing exists but the two of you. 

The way your walls drag suck him deeper, taking him, squeezing him within the velvety hold is just what he needs. The bruises on his body relaxing under the heat of the water, the air around the two of you. 

Your moans echo off the porcelain tiles and glass, filling his ears and making him twitch and throb deep inside of you as he rocks his hips. Over and over, the rhythm is perfect and paced. He loves the way you respond to his touch and want more. 

Head turning so you can kiss him. The slight taste of desperation on your tongue is addictive and he steps closer, crowding you against the tiles and flattening himself against you even more. Loving how much skin he gets to feel. 

“Love this.” He manages between kisses. He knows you love it too. Shower sex is completely underrated for a couple. It’s perfect for cleaning up and then the two of you could either move on with the day feeling lighter and happier or cuddle together in the bed and fall asleep. 

You giggle, smirking against his lips. “You just like that it slides down the drain afterwards.” You tease, even as you push your ass back against his cock and tighten down around him. 

“Well, yeah.” He huffs, not even denying that. He chuckles and slaps his hips against your ass sharply, pulling a moan out of you. “You like it too. My cum dripping out of you.” 

You do love it. He can tell from the times that you beg for him to fill you up. He hisses when you squeeze him tightly again while you giggle. He pinches your nipples and rolls them between your fingers to make you mewl out his name. 

“Want you to cum for me.” Marcus pants in your ear. “Came home and got in the shower just to make you cum.” 

“Came home just f-for me, huh?” You huff out, dropping your forehead down against the tiles again and moaning again. Your hand reaches back and grabs his hip, pulling him closer on his next thrust. 

“Just for you.” Marcus agrees, nipping your shoulder and then kissing it softly. He can’t promise you that he will come home every time, his job is too dangerous for that, but he can promise he came home for you. That right now you and your pleasure is his sole priority. 

You push off the wall and he groans as he slides out of you, letting you turn in his arms and he crushes his lips to yours. Lifting your leg up onto his hip and you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock to line him back up with your entrance. 

The water cascades around both of you, making him blink when the spray shoots into his eyes but he doesn’t care. All that matters is that you are sliding him back inside you and the heat from the shower continues to curl around you. “Fuck baby.” His eyes close when the velvet heat of your walls surround him again. 

He knows he could pick you up. He’s strong enough to not worry about that, although he doesn’t want to slip. Already precarious enough to rock into you while one of your feet is off the ground and throwing your balance off slightly. Still, he rocks his hips and rolls them around, making sure that he pushes just as deep as he can. 

“Marcus.” Your whimper, kissing along his jaw and he hisses when your fingers dig into his shoulders as you hold onto him. Letting him fill you with quick, harsh thrusts and bounce you up. Then slowly down to slow, sensual rolls of his hips. Loving how your gasps change with the pace and your body presses closer as you start to get close to cumming. 

“You gonna cum for me?” He coos, shifting his grip on you and bending his knees more as he moves inside you. “Let me feel you cum?” 

Your teeth catch on his bottom lip, your whine as you fall off the edge filling his ears and clamoring over the sound of water rushing out of the shower head. Your entire body drawing up tight like a bow and your cunt weeping around his cock. 

Marcus groans, quickly following behind you with a desperate ruck of his hips and his own whimper of your name tumbling from his lips while white hot pleasure courses through him. Filling you up to the brim and sliding out to run down the down drain with the water running over your body. 

“Fuck.” He huffs, smiling slightly and kissing the side of your mouth as he turns the two of you around in the shower so you are under the spray. “Come on baby, Let’s clean up and figure out what we are going to do for dinner.” He loves shower sex, and would often go for another around, but right now his stomach is growling. 

[radiowallet]

Eyes Open - Chapter 5

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Amy Oliver (ofc) Summary: Marcus takes a shot in the dark. WC: 2.1K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Canon-typical violence, talk of police work, slow burn, yearning, idiots friends to lovers, financial stressors, second chance romance, workplace romance (sort of), older love interest, single parents, DID I MENTION THE YEARNING?

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist II Marcus Moreno Masterlist

Cross-Posted to AO3

Part 4 >>> Part 6

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

----

It is the most unproductive morning Marcus has had since perhaps the days leading up to Missy’s birth. It’s a similar feeling, that low thrum of anxiety as he waited for the inevitable call that would change his life forever. Granted, this is on a much much smaller scale but the fact remains. How could he possibly focus on anything while he waits for his phone to ring? 

He’s a ball of nerves, pacing to and fro across his office floor, the pattern practically worn into the hardwood beneath his feet. With each pass by his desk, he sips from his fourth cup of coffee, lukewarm at best, the caffeine doing little for his nerves or his fatigue. 

He and Miracle Guy had watched through narrowed eyes and muffled breaths until, finally, their suspicions were confirmed. Miracle had made one final play to convince Marcus to let him fly down there and take care of the situation himself, but he held firm, sticking to his guns and calling in the tip to the station.

“We need these men to give up the guy in charge. The threat of them speaking up could be enough to lure their boss out of wherever it is they’re hiding.”

In the end, Miracle Guy agreed, but not before he took a few shots at the failure of police work and overcrowded prison systems. Marcus was usually the first to wield that particular battle cry, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t use a broken system to his advantage every now and again. They stuck around just long enough to watch Chief Baldwin shove each suspect into the back of a squad car before finally parting ways with a slap on the back and a tired smile passed between the two heroes.

Marcus had gone home just long enough to catch a few hours of stolen sleep in a bed that after so many years alone was just now starting to feel too big. When his alarm went off he groaned loud and long before dragging himself into a scalding hot shower, letting the steady beat of the water pressure pound into his lower back. Hot coffee and a silent drive to the office did little to quiet his anxieties, and he knew he’d be on edge until he heard from Amy. 

And it was only partly to do with local police work. 

He’s considering his fifth cup of coffee when his phone rings, the sound sharp where it buzzes across his desk. He doesn’t bother crossing the room, instead calling the tiny piece of aluminum to him with the raise of his hand, relief like butterflies fluttering alongside the beat of his heart when he sees AMY flashing across the screen. He answers with shaky hands, his voice catching at the base of his throat, a smile carving out a home on his lips. 

“Hey, Ames.”

“Hey! I’m so sorry I didn’t call until now. It’s been a zoo over here. Some big arrests were made late last night.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” he hums, noting the pitch to her voice is genuinely higher, but between her lines he can read the truth.

“Yeah. Apparently, a tip was called in about a moving van in a suspicious part of town late last night.” 

In the background, Marcus can hear the distinct flurry of a busy precinct. The shout of officers, the ringing of telephones, someone calling Amy’s name again and again. He swallows around the lump in his throat as the guilt starts to creep up the back of his neck.

“Shit. Are you…are you too busy to talk?”

“Well, there’s a ton of evidence to categorize so that’s been keeping me busy. Plus two of the three arrests have priors big enough that they’re being moved upstate. The other made bail.”

Marcus doesn’t say a word, but fear creeps in to join his guilt.

“Yeah, it’s all pretty boring stuff. I’m so busy with all this paperwork. I probably won’t be done processing the three of them until around 12. If…if you still wanted to talk, that is?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” he answers quickly, refusing to be bothered by how desperate it sounds to his own ears. “…But before that?” Marcus asks, testing out the waters of what she’s trying to convey.

“Just a lot of paperwork and rubber stamping shit while those guys sit in empty interrogation rooms. Derek isn’t even here to help. Off getting ready for a press conference.” 

“Well, what if I brought you some coffee? Real coffee,” he offers, his smile hopeful despite the charade. 

He swears when she answers back he can hear the same shade of hope. 

“I’d like that.”

——

Amy was only half exaggerating for Marcus’s benefit. The arrests made in the middle of the night had consumed her day, most of which was spent chasing down arrest records and recording each piece of evidence. That’s where she was supposed to be now, sifting through the heavy boxes dumped unceremoniously in the evidence locker. 

Part of her was looking forward to the distraction from the nervous flutter in her heart. 

That same part that was anxiously watching the door for the familiar sight of broad shoulders and an easy smile. 

Marcus’s texts from the night prior had become a matter of contention. She read them through once, twice, then a third time, the butterflies rising and sinking with each pass. Finally, when it was apparent nothing new could be gleaned from the two simple messages, she gave up, turning off the last of the lights and falling into the twin bed tucked into the corner alcove of her living room. 

It was the ring of her cell phone and not her alarm that woke her the next day, Derek’s voice tired but thrumming, a disarming energy he only seemed to have when something big was going down. When she walked into the precinct an hour earlier than usual, a report was thrust into her hands and she spotted one detail almost immediately. A tip that snowballed the three arrests called in late last night.

Right around when Marcus had texted her about giving him a call.

The pieces were starting to click into place after that, the text messages that had her heart flipping took on a new context. She barely had time to laugh at herself before she dove headfirst into her work, the stack of papers on her desk rivaled only by the number of times her name was called. By 9 she was nearly cross-eyed, going in for her third cup of coffee, the taste all together too bitter but still delicious. She took a moment to drink it, willing her heartbeat to slow to something manageable before picking up her phone and cradling it between her ear and shoulder, dialing Marcus’s number with practiced ease.

He had been anxious on the phone, his voice nearly an octave higher, and Amy swore she could hear the smile in his voice when he suggested bringing her coffee. It’s not an offer Marcus makes regularly, the two of them always content to drink from the pot that sits just behind her desk, no matter the number of faces he pulls after every sip. Still, she hates how she wonders if his offer, in all its kind sincerity, was still part of their lie.

There isn’t much time to dwell on any of it. She spots the broad shape of Marcus Moreno’s shoulders pushing through double doors at the front of the building and breaking her train of thought. Amy curses again, this time out loud, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him, her defenses falling by the wayside when she sees his smile. 

They lock eyes briefly and she smiles, ducking her head to scribble across a post-it note. The message is vague at best, but she’s confident Marcus will understand, and with one more smile sent in his direction she turns away.

——

There are exactly three coffee shops between Heroics headquarters and the 98th precinct. Two chains that serve fine if not overpriced coffee, the menu always reflecting some sort of fad– cold foam, olive oil espresso, pistachio sugar. Things Marcus had no desire to try let alone figure out how to order. 

The third option was small, tucked between a used bookstore and a pawn shop. No sign on the door except for the little plastic one reading OPEN, the rest of the window filled with art; large paintings in bright vibrant colors, smaller self-portraits done in shades of gray, pieces of metal and glass fused together and catching in the sunlight. He had found it by accident one day, stepping inside the doorway to take a phone call and catching the scent of freshly baked pastries.

He had immediately brought Amy a cup, and the two of them had quickly decided the coffee (and the muffin he had brought for them to split) were perfect. It never grew past that, the two of them falling back to Amy’s truly horrendous brew the very next time Marcus stopped by. And even through his grimace, he somehow found himself preferring it.

But he remembered clearly how her eyes had slipped shut, a soft hum, almost like a purr, parting her lips and a deep sort of contentment filling out her features. It would be impossible to forget.

He has that exact order in his hands now, and after catching Amy’s eye, he makes his way to her empty desk, keeping note of the direction she’s moving in, out of the corner of his eye. Waiting for him amongst her clutter is a Post-it note, a number scribbled in the bottom left corner in black pen.

3

And just below that, easily mistaken for a forgotten doodle – a small heart.

Heat blooms in his cheeks, matching the affection pooling in his heart. He exchanges the coffee cups and paper bag for the Post-It, tucking it into his pocket before turning and following in the direction Amy had headed. She’s waiting for him down on the third floor, the low-lit basement enough to conceal the smiles they trade. 

“Hey,” she breathes, and Marcus is quick to match it, his own greeting falling out of him in a hush. He doesn’t hesitate, stepping into her space, close enough to smell her perfume, clean and sweet and mixing perfectly with the notes of coffee on her breath.

She tilts her chin, just enough to look him in the eye, searching for the answer to a question she hasn’t asked. Her bottom lip catches between her teeth, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching up as if to smooth her bite away. He’s hopeless, wondering what it would feel like to let the pad of his thumb drag slowly across the plush pink of her lip. They stay that way for a beat longer, a far more awkward version of their almost kiss, before finally they’re both laughing, bodies falling forward to muffle the sound. 

It feels like enough for them to find their footing, the ground of their friendship solid again beneath their feet. She feels familiar and settled, a comfort in his arms that reminds Marcus that whatever this couldn’t possibly be a mistake. Not as long as Amy kept laughing just like this. 

“Okay,” she starts, her cheeks red and her smile wide, fingers finding the bend of his elbow. “I’ve been dragging my feet on processing these guys. Derek’s already had his go at them and he should be out until this afternoon.”

“How much time can you buy me?”

“The two that are going upstate won’t be moved until 4 at the earliest, but there’s no telling with the one who made bail. Someone claiming to be his girlfriend has been blowing up our phone lines.”

“You think she’s lying about who she is?”

“I don’t think he’s the one she’s worried about.”

Amy squeezes his arm again, the palm of her hand dragging down to hold his. She shakes her head, as if to push one singular thought away, worry creasing across her brow. Marcus nods and then, taking a cue from her own gentle touch, he squeezes at her hip, just once, before stepping away. 

“I’ll start with him then.”

“Last room on the left. The door is locked.”

She doesn’t offer him a key. She knows he won’t need it. 

“I’ll be up at my desk waiting for you to get back from the bathroom?” 

“You’d think I’d remember to go before heading over here by now,” he jokes, delighting at the way she mockingly rolls her eyes. She turns away but Marcus can’t help himself, stopping her just as she’s about to press her foot into the bottom step, calling her name out into the dark. 

“Hey, Amy?”

“Yeah?”

“What are your plans for tonight?”

——

A/N: This story continues to just be so much fun to write. I hope all of you who are reading are having just as much fun as I am. Thank you, endlessly, for reading!

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: The Instructor chapter 9, Shopping Spree

Chapter 1: Lesson One | Chapter 2: A Rash Decision | Chapter 3: Good Intentions | Chapter 4: Chicken Soup | Chapter 5: Knotted Strings | Chapter 6: Crossed Blades | Chapter 7: Christmas Party | Chapter 8: Lesson Two | Chapter 9: Shopping Spree

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: We Can Be Heroes

Relationship: Marcus Moreno/Original Female Character (Kate)

Chapter summary: Marcus continues to educate Kate about the joys of sex.

Chapter tags: Dom!Marcus is a goddamn tease, (her) masturbation.

“Marcus.”

“Kate.”

There is something a little awkward to meet at the entrance to the cafeteria only a few days after that Saturday. It doesn’t help that Marcus has a little mini-me with him.

His daughter. Kate immediately feels like the pretty little girl knows exactly what this strange woman has been doing with her father. The kid is eyeing her with interest, and Marcus realizes he needs to make introductions.

“It’s Bring Your Kids To Work Day. This is my daughter, Missy.” He puts his hand on Missy’s shoulder. “Querida, this is Kate Shannon, our trainer.”

“You’re the one who knows, like, martial arts, right?” the girl asks, clearly excited yet a little shy. Kate nods.

“I am.”

“Can you teach me?”

“It’s only for employees,” Marcus interjects. “And adults.”

The kid pouts, and Kate struggles to find something to say, having no idea what’s okay for a child this age.

“I know a great kung-fu school if you’re interested. Tell them Kate sent you, and you’ll get to try out for free, okay?” The way the girl’s eyes start to sparkle, Kate knows at least did right by the child, if not by the father. But Marcus doesn’t seem aghast at the suggestion that his daughter take up martial arts.

“Can I, dad?” Missy looks up at Marcus, who smiles at her.

“Sure, we’ll check it out.”

He then directs his warm smile at Kate. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you. Missy?”

“Thank you!” The gratitude, albeit prompted, is sincere and delivered with a huge smile.

“You’re welcome,” Kate nods, then gestures down the hall, ill at ease. “I gotta go. Nice to meet you, Missy. Marcus.”

Bring Your Kids To Work Day. Figures. If any of Kate’s clients bring their kids with them to practice, she’s going on strike.

Thankfully none of them do, and she goes through the rest of her workday without having to deal with anyone younger than 30. Marcus’ smile is stuck on her retina for hours after the encounter, and when she gets on her bike at the end of the day to pedal home, she sees him walking towards his car, his daughter skipping next to him. His laughter carries across the parking lot to Kate.

To her surprise, the idea of Marcus as a father doesn’t turn her off. She still doesn’t want to be involved in his family life, have Sunday dinners with him, meet his kid and parents, but she's excited for their next rendezvous, which will be on the upcoming Saturday. Missy is going to a birthday party and Marcus has planned for him and Kate to go online shopping.

When she woke up the morning after, Marcus was still there. He was already up, coming out of the shower when she blinked her eyes open, a towel slung around his narrow hips. The sight had been so titillating she found herself asking him, almost shyly, if he wanted to have sex, just sex, no power plays. He did. He took charge without being bossy, guided her through the experience with a firm yet caring hand, praised her when she finally let the orgasm wash through her. She asked him to stay for breakfast, insisted that she cooked, and while they were enjoying scrambled eggs and smoothies, he wanted to know if she would see him again.

"Yes!" she had exclaimed, comically eager, and he had smiled across the table at her.

"Then we need to get some stuff. Can I take you sex toy shopping next Saturday?"

She sees an opening here, a chance to explore her sexuality, find out about pleasures she never knew she would be into. She likes Marcus, trusts him, is comfortable with him. Shopping for sex toys is going to be a brand new experience; her shitty vibrator was bought on a whim from Amazon and is constantly in need of new batteries.

Work occupies her mind well enough for the rest of the week and Saturday afternoon finally arrives with Marcus coming by her apartment in the afternoon.

"Hi," he smiles when she opens the door. He's once again irresistibly handsome in ludicrously casual yet stylish clothes. The leather jacket comes off when he steps in, and he pushes his glasses up with his pointer finger before asking if he can kiss her.

"Sure," she allows and Marcus immediately leans in, giving her a soft and brief kiss that leaves behind a tingle on her lips.

"I've thought about kissing you all week," Marcus confesses, looking a little bashful. She can't figure him out. He's dominant in bed but shy yet cheeky outside of it. She has a feeling most of the friends would call him perfect boyfriend material.

"Me too," she admits. It's true: since last Saturday, she's masturbated every morning before getting up, and every night before falling asleep. Their date night was more than a vitamin injection to her sex life: it was an enormous syringe filled with every steroid and upper known to man. Suddenly she couldn't help but think of his kisses, his hands, the way he handled her, took care of her, and she had to lie down and touch herself until her cheeks were flushed and her panties drenched.

It's madness.

She now directs him to the kitchen, where her laptop waits on the table, and offers him a glass of wine.

"Just the one." He sounds rueful. "I've got to pick Missy up in two hours."

Kate nods and opens the bottle and takes out two glasses, gesturing for him to sit down. Marcus, however, remains standing.

"Let's do it on the couch," he tells her in a low voice. The way he says do it makes Kate think of something else entirely, and the tingle spreads from her lips to the rest of her body. She hands him his glass, takes her own, and picks up the laptop.

"Okay, then."

Kate sits down, cross-legged, and sips the wine as Marcus takes control of the laptop and types in the address of an online store. A tasteful website that makes Kate think of soft velvet, exquisite lace, and the scent of vintage leather comes up. Marcus looks at her.

"What do you use when you pleasure yourself, Kate?"

She almost chokes on the wine but manages to swallow somewhat gracefully.

"I... have a vibrator but it's not that good. I mostly just use my hands."

"Have you ever used a dildo?"

Kate shakes her head. She never needed one and now she feels she has to explain herself.

"Look, I'm not a nun," she points out, a sharp edge to her voice. "I've had sex. I like sex. I just don't always find the time to date, and men don't always accept that I have a physically active lifestyle. Back when I still competed, it was impossible to maintain a relationship."

She shrugs. "I use martial arts to work out my frustrations. I've never thought about getting toys, I don't have the time."

"I'm sorry if I offended you," Marcus says softly. "I didn't mean to imply anything. I just want to know what you like to use on yourself."

"Not much," she concludes and raises the glass to her lips, taking three greedy gulps.

"What do you want to use?"

She has no idea. "What do you suggest?"

There it is again, that dark intensity in his eyes. His fingers land on the laptop's touchpad and he moves the cursor around, clicks, and shows Kate the screen. She looks at it sceptically.

"Handcuffs?"

"Or ropes. I'd like to tie your hands together above your head and then..." He clicks around a little more. A stick with a feather at the end of it shows up. Marcus studies her reaction closely. "I'd tease your beautiful tits and your pretty little pussy with this until you're squirming."

A shiver runs down Kate's spine and her gaze goes from the laptop screen to Marcus's face, and back again.

"Yeah?" she breathes. Marcus smiles, displaying a predatory glint of teeth as he takes a sip of wine.

"Yeah."

He reaches for her, hand ghosting around the soft swell of her breast, almost touching but still not. The nipple puckers against the cup of her bra, and Kate finds herself wanting to thrust out her chest so that Marcus can grab her, fondle her, fucking touch her already.

"Like this," he murmurs, finishing up with a light brush over the nipple before sitting back with the laptop. "I think we'll add that to cart."

"Definitely," Kate agrees, a little weakly. Marcus shoots her a smile that's all boyishness and flirt, not seductive and teasing like only a moment earlier.

"What about the restraints?" he asks casually. Kate tilts her head, catching on to his little game.

"I don't have bedposts. How would you go about it?"

He reaches for her glass and puts it down on the side table, then takes her hands, raising both to his mouth. He kisses the inside of one wrist, then the other. The brief touch of his lips on her skin feels like a punch to the gut and Kate realizes that she's holding her breath. Her quick inhale becomes a small gasp when Marcus suddenly takes a hard grip of both her wrists and twists her arms behind her back. Her eyes fall shut when he leans in to nuzzle her neck.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he whispers before tracing his tongue down her jugular. "Is that because of me?"

"It is," she confirms in a breathless moan. "Marcus..."

"Hush." He nibbles on her earlobe, his breath warm in her ear when he continues: "You may not have bedposts but I can still tie your hands together behind your back, like this, or above your head, or I can cuff your hands and feet to bars and spread you open, and then tease you until you're weeping for me to fuck your warm, wet pussy..."

Kate’s head is swimming and she forces herself to take a deep breath in order to steady herself. It’s almost embarrassing how easily affected she is by his deep, seductive voice. When she opens her eyes, Marcus’s face is right in front of hers, watching her intently.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he breathes, and Kate nods.

“I’d like that.”

He smiles then, almost cheerfully, as he releases her wrists.

“Good, we’ll got restraints as well!”

Marcus redirects his attention to the laptop and sips the wine. Heat is throbbing hard and fast through Kate’s body as she shifts uncomfortably, her longing gaze resting heavily on Marcus’s sharp profile. A small smile is playing in the corner of his mouth, letting her know that he’s aware of her hunger. He is, however, making himself busy clicking around the site, the cursor repeatedly going over the Add to cart button.

“We’re also buying a Magic wand,” he rules, turning the laptop so that she can see. The vibator on the screen looks like a microphone and seems huge. A Magic wand is, however, something Kate has heard of, and she's not hard-pressed to try one. She wants to hear what plans he has for it, though.

“What’s it for?”

Marcus tilts his head, eyes darkening again as he changes from sweet and practical to smouldering.

“I’d use it on your clit until you’ve cum so many times that you can’t take it anymore, Kate. How does that sound?”

“That… sounds rough.”

“I think you can take it. Can’t you? For me?”

His hand is now playing along the waistline of her pants. Kate feels a strong surge of want deep in her belly, a heavy damp in her panties. Her mouth is dry as she tries to find her voice.

“Show me, Marcus. Please.”

“Such a sweet, desperate thing, asking so nicely…”

Marcus puts the laptop to the side and pulls Kate into him, his large hand cupping her between the legs, finger digging into the hard denim.

"Please," Kate begs again, chasing his lips for a kiss but Marcus denies her the pleasure with a sharp slap to the side of her ass.

"You know what else we need? A paddle."

Kate blinks in disbelief as Marcus turns back to the laptop. "A paddle?"

"I think you can take a lot more than my hand, Kate."

He shows her the screen and with a little frown between her eyebrows, she inspects the leather paddle on display. The memory of the exhilaration she felt after the spanking Marcus gave her a week ago makes her shiver in anticipation. The raised hairs on her arms don't pass by unnoticed.

"You're blushing, Kate." His voice is warm and a little teasing. Kate tears her gaze from the screen and meets his.

"It's the wine."

"You want me to paddle you, don't you? Want me to match your ass to your face before I slide my fingers inside you."

She swallows hard before beating her eyelashes coquettishly. "Get the paddle."

His grin is broad as he dips his head to reward her with a kiss that makes her toes curl.

They add a mask and a dildo - Kate picks an elegantly curved glass one - before Marcus declares that they're done. He clicks on to the shopping cart and pulls his phone from his pocket for his bank details. A little shocked at the total, Kate shakes her head.

"You're not paying for all of that."

"Of course I am, it was my idea," Marcus assures her, but Kate quickly grabs the laptop from him and holds it out of reach.

"No," she insists, "it doesn't feel right. I don't want... gifts from you. It would feel weird."

Marcus nods immediately, seeing her point. "You're right. I'm sorry, I should've thought of that."

"I want us to split, fifty-fifty." She sees that there's a part of him that wants to protest, some old-fashioned gentlemanly notion of not letting her pay, but he agrees. Only when she has made sure he has Venmo does she relinquish the laptop to him so that she can pick up her own phone and send him the money.

"Can I have it all shipped straight to you?" he asks. "It's easier if I don't have to explain mystery boxes to Missy, or try to keep my secretary from opening it."

"Sure."

He smells so good, why does he smell so good? Now that their shopping spree is in the bag, so to speak, Kate begins to feel jittery. She's soaking wet, flushed, and there is still time to do something about it before Marcus has to leave. When he closes the lid of her laptop and puts it to the side, she all but scrambles onto his lap.

"What a state you're in," he tuts at her as she tries to capture his lips in a desperate kiss. "No, sweetheart, that's not how this works."

Lower lip caught between her teeth and heart in her throat, Kate sits back and waits for him to give her an order. Marcus softly caresses a red lock of hair from her forehead and cups her cheek.

"I want you to take your pants off, lie down on the couch, and touch yourself. Can you do that for me?"

The split second of hesitation must show on Kate's face because Marcus immediately lifts his left hand to her other cheek and makes her look him in the eye.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?"

His eyes are chocolatey, warm, deep. Kate tries to swim in their sugary thickness but finds that she'd rather drown.

"I'll try," she whispers, and Marcus rewards her wih a possessive kiss that takes her breath away. When he releases her, it's only to make room for her on the couch. Kate rises, her legs like jelly, and manages to take off her jeans. Only when she kicks off her panties does she realize that she could have put on a little show, slowed it down, maybe danced a little for Marcus, made him squirm. Maybe next time.

A little awkward about being so exposed, she lies down on the couch, both knees bent and pointing towards the ceiling. Marcus places his big palm over one knee and pushes it gently to the side, making her open her legs.

"This leg down," he instructs her, nodding when she slides her foot off the couch and down to the floor, separating the thigh from the other. "Yes, just like that. Now go ahead, touch yourself. Don't mind me. Just think about what you usually think about when you masturbate."

That's easy: all she's thought about lately is him. She closes her eyes, needing nothing but the smell of his cologne is in her nostrils and the warmth of his body so close to her when she reaches between her legs. Already sopping wet and horny, she goes straight for her clit, circling it eagerly with two fingers. The relief of her own touch makes her moan and the heat inside her starts to thicken and rise from the very core of her. It's embarrassing how quickly she reaches a desperate height, her hand working frantically to throw her over the edge, there, right there, just a little further...

"That's enough, baby."

Kate doesn't register the meaning of the words, only the sweet tone of his voice that makes her grab onto the couch with her free hand, her spine starting to arch as she nears her peak - only to be rudely interrupted by Marcus, who grabs her hand and pulls it away from between her legs.

"I said enough." He sounds a little more determined now, yet still patient and warm, like he was telling a child it's time to go home from the park. Kate opens her eyes just as he brings her hand up to his face and starts to suck the slick off her fingers.

"Marcus," she whimpers, "what are you doing?"

He kisses the tip of her pointer finger with a smile. "I have to go."

"What?"

"I gotta pick Missy up." He leans over her and brushes his lips over hers. She can smell and taste herself on him, but her brain is still frantically scrambling to understand what's happening.

"Marcus, I... I have to... I need to..."

"I know you want to cum, baby," he soothes her with a smile that's all concern and care. "I know. I see it. But you're not allowed to. You're not going to touch yourself for the rest of the day, okay?"

Kate blinks, still desperate with need to be fucked by either herself or him, her clit throbbing amid the slick that she can feel all the way her thighs, heart beating like after a particularly hard training session.

"Do you understand me?" Marcus stares down at her, suddenly bossy. Kate finds herself and nods.

"Yes, I understand." Her voice is small, pitiful. "But Marcus..."

"I'll call you tonight. No touching until then."

He rises from the couch and she sees from the front of his jeans that he's not unaffected. It gives her some comfort.

"I'll show myself out. Have a good afternoon, Kate."

Cheeks burning, Kate watches him leave her apartment before she slowly sits up. For a moment she considers going against his command but decides not to: he must have some kind of reward waiting. Isn't that how this works?

She gets up and goes to the bathroom to wash herself before changing into clothes for running. Putting on her killer playlist and earbuds, she leaves her apartment in the hopes of running it off.

When Marcus calls her later that night, she's almost managed to forget about the incident but her skin starts to crawl with anticipation when he asks her to put the phone on speaker, take her clothes off, and finish what she started earlier.

"And I want to hear you, baby," he tells her. "Make sure I hear you."

Kate lets him hear it all.

[baronessvonglitter]

Getting Dirty With a DILF

Marcus Moreno x f!reader

Word count: 1.8K

Summary: the night before Father's Day you share a little fun with your boyfriend

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, established relationship, bathroom counter sex, fingering, spanking, soft dom!Marcus, daddy kink, fluff, smut, fucking in front of the mirror

Author's Note: of all the daddies in the Pedroverse, I felt like Marcus needed just a little more love and wrote this for him.

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Wearing nothing but Marcus Moreno's bedsheet around you, you traipse to the bathroom, playfully glancing behind to see he's catching up to you. Once inside, you pull him in and the sheet falls away from you at the same time that his arms wrap around you from behind as soon as the door shuts. He kisses the back of your shoulder, wearing a little lovestruck smile. "God, I'm crazy about you."

You smile, watching both of you in the mirror, naked. Your body is still flushed pink from the pleasure still coursing through your veins from moments earlier. Saturdays were your date nights, he made sure of that despite his busy schedule and his family life. Tonight you'd have him, and tomorrow he could spend time with his daughter for Father's Day.

"What are you smiling about?" Marcus smirks, nuzzles your cheek with his nose.

"I just.. think we look good together," you smile back, watching his hands roam your body. His arms wrap around you, holding you from behind as he looks at your reflection with you. He pulls you close, pressing your back to his chest.

"I like this view," he murmurs, his large hands cupping your breasts, feeling the heft of them in his palms before gently tweaking your nipples, earning a sweet sigh from you for his efforts. There's a pale ring of color around his left ring finger; he'd stopped wearing his wedding ring when he started dating you, something you would never have asked of him, but his insistence that he could let go of his past while entertaining his future was something that truly touched your heart.

"I like this view a lot," Marcus reiterates, watching your body's response to him. You tell him to keep going, and he kisses the back of your head as his hands gently squeeze your breasts. "Beautiful," he mutters. You bite your lip, savoring his delicate, reverent touch as heat flushes your skin even further. He presses a thigh between your own, separating them a little. He loves how you react to him, how a simple touch from him can make your heart skip a beat and cause goosebumps to rise on your skin. He loves knowing he has that effect on you. His lips wander your neck as he watches your reactions in the mirror, studying the furrowing of your brows, the slackness of your mouth while he kneads your flesh. He whispers into your ear, "Bend over.."

Barely able to suppress a gasp, you do as you're told, leaning over the bathroom counter, bent over in front of him as you watch him with wide eyes through the mirror. He moves forward and angles himself behind you, his hands greedily running from your hips to your thighs, feeling the heat from your drenched pussy.

Oh he needs to see it, craves to see your slippery cunt. Marcus first plants a soft kiss on your shoulder before leaning back to view your heart-shaped ass, your flower-like folds open to him, damp with your dew. He gently traces it with his finger, licking his lips when you mewl softly in want. He presses in with one finger, then two, fucking you slowly.

You move back against him, asking for more, demanding more. He removes his fingers for a moment, nearly growling to feel them covered in your thick slick, and uses them to smooth over your clit, circling and adding pressure before dipping back inside you, fingerfucking you harder than before.

Your cries ring out against the tiles of the room, your neediness almost vulgar, but to him they're the sweetest sounds in the world. "You like that, hermosa?" his voice booms over yours, and you grow even more excited to see this side of him, the beast beneath the man. "Put that pretty mouth to good use and tell me what you want, or I'll stuff it full of my cock," he grunts, slowing his movements to give you a small respite in which to get out of your brain fog.

"I want you to fuck me.." When you say it it almost sounds plaintive, but he's more than happy to oblige you.

"Only because you asked so kindly. Although I didn't hear a 'please' in there." Marcus's hand comes down to land a stinging slap on your ass, leaving a nice pink handprint. You wince, though a little of your come dribbles out, revealing the truth.

"Please!" you gasp. "Please fuck me!"

"That's better." Though he lands another spank just for good measure, and delves his fingers inside you again, leaving you unable to distinguish pleasure from pain. When you're on the verge of coming, he pulls away, giving you his fingers to lick clean. "That's a good girl," he coos, his eyes soft behind his thick square-rimmed glasses.

He lifts one of your legs, bracing it on the counter. You're completely exposed to him, cunt opened wide, pink and absolutely sopping wet. Then he positions himself behind you again. When you try to push your hips back he keeps you in place. "Stop that. Look at me."

His tone leaves you no choice, sending a thrill through you as you gaze at him through the mirror. "Don't you dare close your eyes, mi hermosa.." he warns, and with your eyes on each other's he slides into you just a little at a time.

Marcus never gets tired of that look, the way your eyes open wide, lips parted and full as he slides his cock into you, filling you up and stretching you out. You whimper, pushed forward by the force of his first thrust, and your entire body warms and buzzes with feeling. All concentration is on one area of your body. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes dark as he watches your face, his gaze drifting down to your hands that seek purchase on the countertop, fingers splayed. His grip is on your hips, keeping you steady, using slow and teasing thrusts as his tongue peeks out to slowly lick across his lips.

Each slide in feels like heaven as he slowly draws out your pleasure, teasing and testing you. "Yes..yes!" you moan with each thrust. He picks up the pace, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "You like that, corazón?"

Both your heart and your stomach flip flop as you exchange glances in the mirror. "Yes.. I love it, daddy."

In response to your pet name his grip on you tightens, a low growl escaping him. He thrusts harder, deeper into you. "You want daddy to give you more?"

Your breath catches in your throat. "God! Yes, daddy!" The sounds you make are absolutely shameless, giving back as good as you get, your flesh colliding in the most profane sound you've ever heard. Marcus loses a modicum of control with each of your sweet, needful moans, your torturously tight pussy. One of his hands lets go of your hip and reaches up, grabbing the back of your neck, bringing your head to the side enough for him to capture your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. His lips meld against yours, capturing every sound you make. When he pulls back it's only far enough to where he can press another, shorter kiss to your lips. His forehead rests against yours as he presses against that sweet spot inside you he knows makes you see stars.

You whimper, your thighs threatening to buckle beneath the pressure, but he keeps you steady. He holds your face to the mirror so you can see yourself. You're wrecked. Your hair is messy, lips red and swollen from kissing, eyes blown black with desire. Marcus has never seen a prettier sight. He gives another rough snap of his hips, watching your ass cheeks ripple with the force of it. "Fuck, I can't hold on much longer, daddy," you moan.

"Let go for me," he grunts. At his command your self-control melts. A needful cry leaves your lips as your legs quake, your pussy pulsating around him. He almost comes undone right with you, but his hands grip your hips, holding you up as he rails you through your orgasm. "My girl," he says proudly.

You're weak when the pleasure subsides, and Marcus smiles, loving to see you like this, so undone, so satisfied. He gently pulls out of you, wraps an arm around your waist and turns you around, pulling you to his chest. He kisses the top of your head and cradles you against him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you answer, finally catching your breath and breathing deep of his scent. He cradles your face in his hands, leaning gown to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. Then his arms wrap around you, holding you close as he rests his chin on top of your head. "Daddy didn't get to finish, did he?" you ask, taking his length in your hand, still rock hard.

His body stiffens and a hiss of pleasure leaves his lips. "Mm. No, I didn't."

You hop up on the edge of the counter, bracketing his hips with your thighs. "Let me help you with that." You shift your hips, pussy drooling in anticipation as he teases you with the first few inches. "You're such a tease, daddy," you whine.

He leans in close, resting his forehead against yours as he takes hold of your legs, letting them rest over his forearms. "And you're impatient," he says, and sneaks a peek between your bodies, watching as he pushes in, burying himself to the hilt. His heart skips a beat hearing your delicious moan. He cups your face gently, as if caring for something delicate, something precious, and kisses you, softly, deeply, lovingly. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too.." your whisper back, body buzzing with heat. "Take me how you want, Marcus."

A switch flips in his brain. You set something off. He pulls back and snaps his hips forward, over and over again. He groans when you dig your nails into his shoulders, your moaning in unison with his. He wants you to leave your marks on him. A claim. Ownership. He uses his height and strength to hold you in place as he fucks you. The sting of your scratches on his skin feels good. Later he'll look in the mirror, satisfied with the marks. He snaps his hips forward, with purpose. Hard. Forceful. Leaving you breathless. He buries his face in the crook of your neck. Each sound you make, he wants to hear forever. "Just like that, just like that," he mutters, feeling you clamp around him, signaling that you're close. "I'm not gonna last much longer.."

"Neither am I," you gasp. "Don't stop.."

His grip on your thighs tightens, knowing he'll probably leave his own marks on you, but he doesn't change his pace. "Come for me, baby," he groans. "Let me feel that tight pussy milking my cock."

"Fuck!!" you shout, body trembling as you come. Marcus follows right after, burying his face in your neck, pressing a messy kiss to your skin as his hips jerk, emptying himself into you. You stay joined for a long while until he finally pulls away, giving your thighs a tender rub.

"Now how about that shower?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[simpingcowboy]

Let You Break My Heart Again 

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Hopeless Romantic!Reader, use of Y/N, gender neutral

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Angst, discussions widowing, unrequited love, Marcus being literally the sweetest while breaking your heart

Summary: Marcus confronts you about your crush on him...

A/N: Based on the song "Let You Break My Heart Again" by Laufey. An angsty bit about being hopelessly in love with your best friend. Also I am very enamored with Marcus Moreno <3

"Y/N."

     He was so dreamy like this. The light illuminates the warm tones in his light brown skin. The rays of light dance in the reflection of his glasses. Still leaving gaps for you to peer into his brown eyes. Warm and inviting like brown sugar…like sticks of cinnamon…jolting you like a shot of espresso-

"Y/N?" Marcus repeats more firmly, jolting you from your daydream.

"Y-yes! Yes sorry, just drifted off there for a moment." 

     Reality tears its way through your fantasy. Bringing you back to your usual far corner table, in the small café. It's a quiet morning. Nothing but the sound of instrumental music, and the occasional footsteps meet your ears. Scattered before you two coffees, the far drink characteristically lighter than yours and two slices of pies, both still warm from the oven. Looking up across from you, your long term crush and dear friend Marcus Moreno. The same man you'd been admiring before the intrusion, the same one you thought about every night before you go to bed. 

"I'm here now, sorry." You apologize a final time with a soft shrug. You should stop. You know you should. Stop sending your friend those long admiring glances. Stop letting him take up so much space in your mind. One day, you promise yourself, one day you will stop falling in love with Marcus. "You had something to talk to me about?" You take the mug in your hands, slowly sipping away at the warm drink. 

     Marcus had invited you out today. Not that he needed a reason to, you two often went out on impromptu outings together. But- he'd specifically said he had something to talk to you about. It'd made you feel nervous when you'd first read the message. Heart racing with a million and one romantic possibilities. Before you had to shoot them all down yourself, knowing they'd never be true. 

"Yes um-" he scoots in his chair closer, leaning in from the opposite end of the small round table. "Don't be embarrassed, but I heard some people talking and I- I…do you like me?" Marcus says in a hushed tone. A speckle of a blush running over his cheeks as he asks. 

      For just a moment, the world is silent again. Instead of that usual sweet lull that brings you somewhere kind, you're filled with a sense of dread. A heat runs up over you, a look of embarrassment evident on your face. The once clear air feels thick and clouded. You should have known it'd eventually come around. Though the world crashes around you, still- is Marcus. Gazing into your eyes, still as warm as ever. With an inhale, you cling to all the plans you'd made for the life you'd never have with him.

Exhale.

"Yes." You say plainly. Feeling your heart break in real time. "I like you." 

"Like…like like me?" Marcus's eyebrows pinch together, almost willing a lie to come out of you. 

There he is. Even in your heartbreak, you cannot help the way you fall for him. So sweet. Juvenal even at times. You answer him with a nod. Teeth meet the innards of your cheeks, fighting back silent tears.

"Oh…oh Y/N I-" he says, with an exasperated sigh. He wants to reach out to touch you, to pull you close to him. To tell you it'll all be okay. But he knows that he'd only make things worse. 

"You don't have to say anything." You muster up a bittersweet smile, not daring yourself to look at him like this. 

"I just you know I- after my wife I can't. I just can't." Marcus shakes his head gently, not letting his eyes leave you. 

"I know Marcus. I'm sorry just-" Between all the songs you've exchanged…midnight calls…sunset views- how were you not supposed to fall for him? "It just happened."

"How long?" He interjects. And it takes you by surprise. You look up to him, and goodness he's all puppy dog eyes. With that familiar pinch in his eyebrows he always gets when he's overcome with his worldly worries. Lips soft and pouted up at you. Oh how you wish you could kiss away those wrinkled lines left by time…

"A while." You answer after a moment, breaking your eye contact. Eyes drifting back to the forgotten pie. And they're there. The tears you try to hide from him every night. One escapes you running down your cheek. 

    Marcus has gone silent- he looks confused. Like he's recalculating every moment you two have ever shared. Thinking on them- over and over. Trying to figure out exactly when. You wonder momentarily, if this will be the end of it all. If your harbored affections will be confused for a betrayal of his trust. He couldn't be blamed for it…so many secrets laid between you two. But your friendship was never a farce. You never had to fake that. The only lie would be that you never wanted more than that. And maybe you don't have a right to cry, but you do.

"I'm sorry." You spit out quickly, trying to beat the sniffles overcoming you. Marcus-as kind as ever hands you a napkin to catch your falling tears. "I-I don't mean to cry it's just-"

"Overwhelming?" He offers to finish for you.

If only he knew.

"Yeah, something like that." You chuckle a bit through the tears. Slowly the tears dry, little by little as you reclaim your composure.

Marcus is the first to speak again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on-"

The look you shot him stops him in his tracks. "Lead me on?" You almost laugh at the premise. "Marcus. I know how you feel. I know why you still wear your wedding band- I was never under the impression you'd be interested in me back." 

"You weren't?" A tinge of guilt laced in his voice. Marcus's hands instinctively move to fidget with his wedding ring. A move of reassurance. To remind himself he's still never broken his sacred vows.

"No. It was all me." You say with a shrug. "You didn't do anything other than be a great friend." You offer up a small smile, he didn't deserve to feel guilty for your affections. A hushed laugh even wiggles its way up your throat, "Here I thought you were about to say you didn't wanna see me again." 

Marcus joins you with a reduced chuckle of his own. "No no! Not at all! I'm not upset." He shakes his head. "I'm a bit flattered really and just relieved that you didn't think-" he cuts himself off not wanting his words to sound cruel. "Y/N?" He calls to you. 

     You answer, with a lift up of your head. The wide expanse of his frame fills up your vision. Everything is just Marcus. You let your eyes sink back into comfortable eye contact. Those warm brown eyes fill you with a sense of comfort. Even in your vulnerability, you feel safe in his presence. Then you knew. Even if you didn't want to- you'd always answer his call.

"I don't say this enough. But you're an incredible friend. Kind. Admirable. Someone I'm glad Missy has to look up to. Jeez and you're just breathtaking." Marcus's eyes wander over your face and along your form.

     There it was…everything you'd ever dreamed of Marcus saying to you. It's as if every daydream you've ever had is coming true. You cling to each word, desperate to commit them to memory. Something to think back on during those lonely nights. He so sincerely thought highly of you. And the way his eyes move to take in your figure was enough to make you feel faint. He greedily drank in your body in a way you'd never seen him do before. As if- even for a moment he entertained the idea of making you his. With each word your foolish heart falls and falls and falls until again- it breaks. 

He takes a sharp inhale as his eyes return onto your face. "And well…all this to say someday- someone will like you like you like me."

Someday. 

Someone.

But not today.

And not Marcus.

"Until then-" you pluck your fork from the table eagerly sticking it into the pie. "I'll drink my coffee, and eat my pie." 

And pretend that we are more than friends

Marcus smiles at you. A blinding vision of all things you desire, but will forever be denied. "Until then." He cheers you with his fork. The man of your dreams, let's a hand slide over yours. A friendly gesture of appreciation. A lonesome tear pricks at your eye.

'Then of course I'll let you break my heart again.'