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morallyinept · 3 months

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Heyday Hero! - A Marcus Moreno One Shot

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

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

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

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

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

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

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

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

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

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

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“52.” Marcus frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You always say so."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dating specifically for retired Heroics?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Slut central.” Missy smirked.

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

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

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

“Purple? Why not the green one?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh no, let me just-”

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

“Well, let me take my glasses off.”

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

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

Marcus simply scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.

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

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

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

"You're a weirdo." He smirked.

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

"Thanks," he chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loneliness, it seemed, was hereditary.

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

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

“Oh, she’s gorgeous, Dad.”

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

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

"You think so?" He asked.

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

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

“Send her a message back.”

“What do I say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your response made his cheeks ache from grinning so much:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was as if he had become invisible overnight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Actually, they’re from my garden.”

“You grow these?” You baulk.

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

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

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

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

You nod. “I'd love some.”

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

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

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

But the silences are never awkward between you both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He watches you smile and the world outside implodes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s the tiramisu,” you chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was?” You query gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods. “I’d like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marcus listens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you boasting, Marcus?" You tease.

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

You both laugh as he realises what he just insinuated.

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

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

“A flight device?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like this?" You whisper.

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

"You won't let me go?"

He shakes his head. "Never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“True,” you giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?" He queries with raised eyebrows.

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

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

“I don’t think that at all.”

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

“Me too.” You agree nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God, yes…” You whine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So good.” You groan.

“More?”

“More.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both shudder as you do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm, I want it so badly.”

"I want you so badly."

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

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

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

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

“It’s not too much?”

“No, you feel incredible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come for me," he pants.

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

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

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

You screech as it leaves your bones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything you want, beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah… so good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So am I. Don't stop!” You wail.

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

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

“You sure?”

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

“Fuck!” He yells. "Oh fuck!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The soft hum of the morning unfolds around you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning handsome.” You sigh dreamily.

“How did you sleep?” He enquires.

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

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

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

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

“I’d love to.” You smile.

“What are you doing later this afternoon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I like that, that thing you say."

"Hermosa?"

"Yeah." You smile.

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, my hero.” You swoon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And to feel him inside you again...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stop it." He groans, flushed.

“You’re glowing.”

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

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

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

“Are you seeing her again?”

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

“Good.” She chirps.

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

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

Once done, she turns to him.

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

“Thanks, kiddo.”

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

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

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

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

💜

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

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

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

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headcanonenthusiast · 4 months

Text

Alejandro Vargas NSFW headcanons

This was made with gender-neutral readers in mind.

Ladies, gentleman and everyone in-between, it's him. It's forehead man.

Alejandro is so FINE tho 😍 I'm so excited to be doing headcanons for this man. I'd learn Spanish just for him tbh.

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

Enjoy!

Nsfw under the cut.

-His hands are absolutely glued to your hips the whole time.

-He gets the widest, most shit-eating grin whenever he manages to hit your g-spot.

-"Listen to those moans. Fuck, is that it? Is that the spot right there, amor?"

-Very confident in the fact that he can make you scream. In fact, he wants you to be loud.

-"Thats it, scream for me. Grita mi nombre. God, the neighbors must be so jealous of me because they aren't the ones making you scream."

-Edges you a lot tbh. Getting to cum immediately w/ him is kinda rare.

-If you make him jealous by talking to someone else, or if you guys just haven't been able to spend time together, he's more likely to edge you for longer.

-"Don't start whining, hermosa/o. You asked for this. Why were you talking to them anyways, hm? Why waste your time on someone like that when you have me?"

-Even if you were just talking to a friend innocently or something, chances of Alejandro's jealousy rising is high.

-He trusts you not to cheat on him, he knows you love him, but that doesn't stop him from being a tiny bit jealous anyway. And that jealously and possessiveness totally seeps into your sex life.

-3 inches soft, 5 inches hard and yall already know it's thick af ( lord.have.mercy🙏🙏🙏🙏)

-The sex is either passionate and rougher or passionate and gentler depending on the mood. But, it's always super passionate. His attention is focused entirely on you, with much deeper strokes if it's gentler.

-Marks you up a lot and doesn't really care who sees them. He wants people to know that you're his.

-"There we go. Look at how pretty your neck is, covered with my hickeys."

-And if you try to wear something that covers the marks, he'll carefully pull it right off of you.

-"No, no. Don't hide the marks, cariño. Why would you be ashamed of showing off how good I make you feel?"

-Will not hesitant to spank you if he doesn't like how you're acting. Slaps your ass and even your pussy/cock with every word he says.

-"Don't use that fucking tone with me. Who do you think you are?"

-Makes you count every slap. If you lose count, he'll start right over and much more harshly. (My dyscalculic ass could never 💀)

-I just know that his ideal introduction to sex is very romantic. Like, candlelight dinner followed by slow dancing that escalates into him carrying you to bed kinda romantic.

-At the end of the day, Alejandro just wants to be close to you. He dislikes quickies for the fact that he wants to spend time and take his time with you. To Alejandro, there's no greater pleasure than the ability to make his partner feel good.

-Will totally worship your body if you're insecure about it. If you ever come to him with your insecurities, his mindset changes from fucking you until the bed breaks to making the sweetest, most tender love imaginable.

-"Aw, look at this body. This gorgeous fucking body. You're crazy for being insecure about all of this."

-"Do you have any idea how many times this body's made me cum? Dios, the thought of this body, the thought of your pussy/dick is enough to make me cum."

-Will also gently massage your thighs as they hug his hips while making love, no matter how big or small they are.

-"Dios mío, these thighs...tan jodidamente increíble."

-Demands that you tell him how amazing you are.

-"Say it, baby. Tell me how beautiful/handsome you are."

-And if you refuse? He'll just keep asking you to, threatening to pull out and not let you finish if you don't.

-"That's not what I asked, mi vida. Say it for me, say how amazing and sexy you are. No dejaré que te corras si no lo haces."

-But the best thing about sex w/ Alejandro if you're feeling insecure and do everything he says? He always let's you cum. Never edges you like he normally would. It's probably because he's not nearly as focused on himself and his own pleasure as he normally would be.

-Enjoys gently cumming inside of you during more gentle sex. Prefers cumming on your pussy/ass/dick or even your chest/belly if it's rougher, though.

-Often shuts his eyes as he finishes, fingers digging into your skin before his grip loosens and his eyes are glued to your face once more. He chuckles while showering your face in kisses, voice hushed and satisfied.

-"Dios mío, that was amazing. Can't believe I'm with someone as wonderful as you, mi amor."

-Almost always hopes you'll agree to taking a bath with him. Like I said, he's all about romantic intercourse, and there's nothing more romantic to Alejandro than getting to wash your body of the mess you've both created.

-And then you're gonna both fall asleep, Alejandro's strong arms wrapped tightly around you while he kisses the back of your neck and shoulders, whispering praises and adoring words.

-Oh, and he usually tries to stay up later than you. Why? Because the look on your face after sex, all satisfied and at total peace, makes him feel accomplished and happy for making you feel good.

Translations: (apologies if anything is inaccurate, online translators can only get you so far :()

Cariño=sweetheart/honey

Amor=love

Hermosa/o=beautiful

Mi vida=my life

Dios/Dios mío=God/my God

Grito mi nombre=Yell out my name

Tan jodidamente increíble=So fucking incredible

No dejaré que te corras si no lo haces=I won't let you cum if you don't

Alejandro has my ❤. He's just so.. 😍

Really enjoyed doing headcanons for him! You can probably tell that I had way more ideas for Alejandro than I did for Gaz (I'm so sorry Gaz enjoyers 😭). I've also intended to do Alejandro for a while, before even Ghost or König. I just did those two first since ik how popular they are.

I'll be doing more headcanons soon, probably more SFW ones, too, because I only have like 2 SFW headcanons on my page 😔.

Feel free to give me suggestions for who to do next!

#alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas smut #alejandro cod #alejandro smut #alejandro vargas #call of duty #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod smut #alejandro vargas cod #alejandro vargas x male reader #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas x you #alejandro #alejandro call of duty #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare

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jobean12-blog · 11 months

Text

A Kiss to Remember

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Vampire AU)

Word Count: 930

Summary: Bucky invites you to spend the weekend at his cottage in the woods.

Author’s Note: This is for @the-slumberparty June Writing Challange. I chose a cottage setting and the item I picked was a sundress. My dear friend Em @weekendgothgirl had shared the gorgeous picture of the cottage you see in my moodboard below and it sparked some real inspo! I love the idea of the dark vs light so I went with that a little bit! Thank you Em for sharing and thank you Navy and Roo for hosting! And thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

Warnings: some soft sweet moments, a brief mention of b-l-o-o-d, pretty flowers :)

“I wish I could see more of our surroundings,” you muse as James drives down a secluded road toward his summer cottage.

You press yourself closer to the window, the glass cold to your touch and peer out into the hidden landscape.

“The darkness holds its own beauty,” he answers softly, his long fingers resting on our bare thigh. “Everything is transformed in the absence of daylight.”

Your soft hum of approval makes him smile as he absentmindedly caresses your skin, his touch keeping you warm despite the nighttime chill.

He finally makes a turn down a dirt road that winds around until you’re in a remote part of the woods. Up head, enclosed in a small wrought iron gate you see a cottage.

It’s nestled among a tapestry of vibrant flowers, their colors standing out against the veiled darkness. The silvery moonlight casts long, shadowy silhouettes upon its aged, timbered walls.

Amidst the dense foliage, the somber atmosphere is intensified by the interplay of moonbeams filtering through the twisted branches above, casting a haunting glow upon the colorful petals of the blooms.

Flickering candlelight softly illuminates the cottage’s small, latticed windows and adds a touch of ethereal beauty, inviting and beckoning you inside.

“Oh, Bucky!” you exclaim, your eyes wide. “I can’t wait to see the inside!”

James chuckles, squeezing your leg before he removes his hand and opens the driver side door. He rounds the car and helps you out, taking your hand on his elbow as he walks you down the small brick pathway to the door.

“I can smell the roses,” you whisper, closing your eyes on an inhale.

You sigh quietly, stopping to grasp a stem and press the fragrant petals to your nose.

James watches you, remaining quiet as you take in every little detail of the cottage before stepping into the doorway.

He stares, his blue eyes darkening as he takes you in.

Your bright sundress is a stark contrast to the deep, dark wood of the cottage and the vibrancy of your aura creates a captivating scene.

James steps closer, his large body caging you against the door.

“You’re a vision,” he whispers. “Like a ray of pure sunshine.”

He procures a rose, out of nowhere, and twirls it between his fingers before he glides the silky petals along your collarbone.

When he lifts it to your nose, you let the softness and sweet fragrance fill your senses then take it between your fingers.

His fingertips trace the neckline of your dress, a slow, sensual claiming before moving to the thin strap at your shoulder. He toys with it, letting it slide down so his fingers can continue their perusal.

Your eyelashes flutter along your cheeks and your grasp tightens around the rose’s stem, causing you to prick your thumb on a hidden thorn, drawing blood.

“Ow,” you hiss, lifting your hand to your mouth.

James grabs your wrist, gently, but as he watches the small drop of blood trickle down your finger his grip tightens ever so slightly.

“I’m ok,” you assure him, thinking he’s reacting because you’re in pain.

“Doll,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly brings your finger to his lips.

You let out a small gasp when his cold lips touch your skin, his tongue tracing the tip of your thumb to lick it clean of blood.

A delicate and tingling warmth radiates through your body from the contact, spreading like an electric current through your brain. As if James senses your response he growls low and deep before releasing your thumb and dragging you into his chest.

His embrace is warm despite the chill left in the air and you melt against him, still pressed along the door, his large body a welcome weight.

“You taste exquisite,” he breathes out as he dips his head.

His lips brush yours, softly at first, like a whisper. You feel yourself falling, consumed by him in a way that leaves you wanting and desperate for more, for anything he will give you.

With every passing second your heart beats faster and the kiss loses its gentleness and becomes more urgent.

“Please James,” you find yourself saying, begging.

His lips trail across your jaw as his hand slides up your body, stopping just at the base of your neck. He pulls away to look you in the eyes, the familiar blue of his own shining brightly against the darkness that surrounds you.

The pad of his thumb grazes along the column of your throat, your pulse beating wildly beneath his touch, until it presses under your chin and he tilts your head back, exposing your neck to him.

In the eerie stillness of the moonlit forest, shadows dance across the splashes of colored foliage and the air is thick with anticipation. You stand out against the dusky backdrop of the cottage, your bright dress barely dimmed by the encroaching dark.

Time slows and even the rustle of leaves fades away as he brings his lips closer, sharp fangs protruding before they delicately scrape over your skin.

You tremble with a whisper of his name and as his fangs pierce your skin the taste of your blood awakens his senses in a way he’s never experienced before. It’s intoxicating, igniting an overwhelming rush of emotions.

Even as your body is drained of life it comes alive with a mix of pleasure and vulnerability and in this fleeting moment you surrender to his embrace.

He savors every drop and with every taste he binds you in an eternal bond.

@randomfandompenguin @flordeamatista @lookiamtrying @sstan-hoe @late-to-the-party-81 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @laineyreads @goldylions @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #vampire!Bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #vampire!bucky x reader #vampire!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Imagines #vampire au #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #navy and roo's sleepover

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asmotheavatarofhorny · 1 year

Text

Clingy 💛

• Mammon x GN!MC

• Lots of cuddles described in great detail

• Slightly suggestive

⚠️ CW: describes MC with gorgeous, pretty, adorable; I personally see these terms as mostly gender neutral as of current, however I can see how some people could not! Enjoy :)

Mammon is hot.

And no, I don’t mean just his looks.

He runs warm, noticeably so, and unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with his clingy ass climbing into your bed every night.

Around 3:00 every night without fail, you hear the soft tapping of footsteps on the hardwood floor outside your door, the metal bolts creaking as they shifted to reveal a tall figure (to a human at least). The candlelight burning softly in the hall perfectly framed the boy in your doorway, his fluffy hair and lack of a shirt apparent.

You left your eyes closed. If he wanted cuddles, he would ask. You found that with Mammon, it was best to just let him take what he needed. If he wanted you, he would take you. That’s just how it was between the two of you.

And that’s what he did.

Carefully, and lightly, so lightly as to not make a sound on the floor that he’d memorized so well after the last few years he’d spent walking to and from your bed, just like this.

He towered over you, you were gorgeous. So pretty. He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep, or just the overwhelming awe at the sight of his human. His adorable human. The one he loved so much. But you were the most breathtaking thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

Slowly, he grabbed the comforter from on top of you and pulled it back just enough for him to slip through. He slid into the nest of sheets you’d made yourself, still moving with caution to not wake you. He couldn’t have you seeing him like this. Not now.

He wrapped his arms around your torso and felt his face light on fire. How could he be this lucky? How could he have the nerve to hold such a sacred being such as yourself? How could you allow such a thing from him?

He buried his face into the back of your neck and breathed in your smell. Your essence. He felt himself longing for more. He needed more of you. He couldn’t bare it any longer, as he slowly creeped up under your shirt and rubbed the palm of his hand lightly across your torso.

A leg draped over your hip, and the other went in between your thighs. He found himself kissing your neck, almost suffocating at how sweet you tasted. How soft your skin was, how he longed to merge together with you. He wanted you to be his. He wanted to be you. He wished to crawl up into your skin and become apart of you for the rest of eternity.

You found yourself blushing at the second born’s antics, unable to keep up the disguise any longer. You turned to face him, burying your face into the soft part of his neck. He smelled sweaty, but you didn’t really care. His bare skin was warm, and you reveled in it. He was like your own personal sun.

He repositioned to make you more comfortable before holding you tighter. So impossibly tight you struggled to breathe. You could only smell him. You could only feel him. He was so close you could almost taste it. His soft breath beat down on your earlobe, making you shutter.

He had pulled your shirt up to your shoulders now, and you considered just letting him take it off for a moment. Soon enough though he was rubbing your back, so sweetly. So lovingly. It was almost sickening. His fingertips were like a magic spell, binding you together for the rest of time. And to be perfectly honest, you were okay with that.

This. This was your heaven.

In the morning you would surely be drenched in a thick layer of sweat and a half an hour late for school thanks to Mammon’s stubbornness, but it was worth it for this moment. This bliss that you called your first man.

You hoped deep down, that he would come back tomorrow and do it all again.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #obey me cuddles #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #mammon #mammon avatar of greed #swd mammon #this has been in my drafts for a while #decided I may as well just post it lol #any more gender neutral terms that mean the same as pretty but aren’t quite so feminine?#I personally refer to myself as ‘pretty’ and have always thought of other guys as pretty also so idk #just seems a bit too feminine to be labeling the fic as “gender neutral yk??#part of why I kept this in drafts for so long lmaoo #probably overthinking it #LMAO I FORGOT TO ADD A TITLE SORRY

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thedeviltohisangel · 25 days

Text

All The Things I Did (7): I Thought About Thinking It Through

a/n: ok so the first blurb of the sleep talking interlude has been somewhat negated so I apologize but promise it is worth it. heavy shit this chapter as we get the full story on sidney landry. but john might say the L word...

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, mentions of character just wanting it all to stop

When John walked into the pub that night, the sounds of an angel laughing reached his ears but the cause was making his fists curl. Cass was seated at a table in the back corner with a man, who he presumed was Mr. Foster, sitting across from her. Her chin was in her hand the way it was whenever he told her a funny story. Her smile was as soft as candlelight as she nodded along to whatever he was telling her. Swears he felt his blood boil when her hand brushed against his across the table.

“Hey, baby, I didn’t think I was going to see you here tonight.” His annoyance was washed away as she turned to greet him with a smile. She said his name and brought him in for a kiss, John using her proximity to press a few more to her lips.

“John, this is Captain Will Foster. We went to spook school in Maryland together.” John kept one arm around the back of her chair as he shook the man’s hand.

“Major Egan, it’s an honor, sir.”

“Hear that, Cass, some people think it’s an honor to meet me.” She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her soda. “You’re the one who’s going to keep an eye on my girl in Berlin?”

“I’ll do my best, sir, but this is Cass’ operation. I’m just here to do what she tells me.” Cass blushed and ducked her head. “Lieutenant Cooper graduated top of our class. Highest marks the entire year.”

“It’s not that impressive,” she began. “Not like I can fly a plane.”

“None of that,” John stated as he gripped her chin between his fingers. “You are the smartest, most gorgeous, most impressive woman that has ever walked this earth.” She smiled in spite of the ridiculousness and let him pull her in for another kiss.

“Careful, John, or all this is going to go to my head. Then I’ll be truly insufferable.”

“I have never once complained about your company.” As it always did, the rest of the world sealed itself off from the space between them. As soon as they had their eyes on each other there was nothing else that mattered. “Can I get you a refill?”

“Yes, please.” John kissed her forehead and was off in the direction of the bar.

“You and the Major, huh?”

“He is…a welcome surprise. I saw him get off a plane one day and couldn’t shake the look in his eyes.”

“Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back,” Will replied with a swig of his beer. “You always were good at learning everything about your target without giving up even a hint of yourself.”

“John’s not my target. He’s my-” She stopped. What was he? Was there a word to describe their relationship status? Partner seemed too severe and official. Boyfriend seemed too trivial. “Mine. He’s just mine. And I’m his.”

“Simple. That works.” Oh, if he only knew. The feelings they had for each other, ability to express them agnostic, were simple. They were pure. They were real. They were warm and comforting and made her nerves tingle. But the world around them was so complicated. The lives they led as individuals were complicated, how were they supposed to twine them together? “And to think you were a runaway bride when I first met you.”

“Runaway bride?” John chose the perfect time to return. Catching the one part of that comment that Cass felt in her chest. “You?”

“It’s an exaggeration of the circumstances.” Cass transitioned to damage control. The topic of why she had left South Carolina in the first place hadn’t come up between her and John. And she had wanted to keep it that way. There was no use pouring salt in her old wounds.

“Oh, come on, Cass. Engaged to marry the big time banker’s son and fleeing the engagement party to enlist in the OSS? It’s an incredible story.” For the second time that day, John found himself furious with the tone someone was using to speak to her. She had fully retreated into herself, focused on the condensation rolling down the side of the bottle, her hands shaking in her lap at the reminder of that night.

“Doesn’t seem like she wants to talk about it, Captain.” There was authority in his tone. It was protective. Purposeful. No room to misinterpret his words. “You okay?” It looked like she was having trouble breathing. As if the amount of trauma trapped in her chest was suffocating her.

“No. I just need some air. Alone.” She doesn’t think she could look John in the eye. Not when he now knew the awful truth. Not when she was now nothing but damaged and spoiled goods. John watched her walk away with a clenched jaw.

“Major-”

“I don’t know what the fuck happened in South Carolina, Foster, but if I ever hear you mention it again it will be the last thing you ever do.” John drained the rest of his whiskey and slammed it on the table. He didn’t wait for a response. He meant the words he said. And Will knew it.

----

“There’s more than one of them,” John mocked as he sat across from the RAF officers. “I can see more than one of you, too. I could knock all of you out.” Cass hadn’t come back into the pub and John had just drowned his anger and worry in amber liquid. Buck and Veal helped settle him down as he yelled he could do it in only one punch.

“You want to get Major excited? Baseball. Specifically the Yankees,” Curt offered.

“Really? I would have thought it was the little poppet who left close to tears.” No one tried to stop him when he stood this time.

“Say that again,” he threatened.

“Why don’t we make a bit of sport out of it, Major?”

“I’ve got him, John, let me take care of him,” Curt reasoned. Really, they were all afraid John might kill him. A better man would know when to step aside. Let a more level head prevail. But John wasn’t in any particular mood to take the high ground.

“Not this time. People in this goddamn pub need to stop talking about her.” They all milled outside and John tossed his blazer into the grass. He wondered if Cass would appreciate the gesture or be repulsed by it. If she ever believed violence was the answer or always chose to think her way out of everything. He ducked the weak hand of the Brit as he thought about the way she looked earlier. The way she had hid herself from his gaze and his touch and requested she be alone. He didn’t like the hole in his chest that she left whenever she wasn’t near.

His fist landed square on his target’s face and the sickening crunch of breaking bone echoed throughout the night air. He pictured Harding’s lovesick eyes when his Cass entered the room. Pictured Foster and his words quelling the fire inside of his Cass in an instant. Pictured this pompous asshole watching his Cass walk from the pub with a shake to her shoulders. Cass was a deity that mere men were not meant to get too close to. John didn’t even believe he deserved the way she looked at him. The way she touched him and comforted him and made him feel at home in a faraway land.

“You good, Bucky?” The others were cheering and laughing and slapping him on the shoulder but Buck looked concerned more than anything.

“I gotta protect her, Buck. I can’t let this place take her from me.” He couldn’t even feel the wounds to his knuckles or the blood of another man trickling down his fingers. “I’ll find you guys later.” John ignored their groans and pleas and grabbed his jacket from the ground before heading off in her direction. His north star. He would always follow her home.

----

He knocked softly against her door, Mary not hiding her eye roll at his disheveled uniform and bloodied knuckles when she had begrudgingly let him in, his forehead landing against the wood as he waited for her to answer.

“You found me,” she whispered softly as she cracked the door open an inch.

“Always will,” he replied sincerely. “Can I come in?” She nodded and opened the door wider, John closing it behind him as she sat on the edge of her bed. He looked around and noticed a packed bag on the floor and a stack of envelopes on her desk. The one on top looked like it was addressed to her parents.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back after…” John shook his head.

“You were upset. He shouldn’t have said what he said.” Cass chuckled drily and looked at the ceiling.

“You have my back, just like that? Without even knowing what it was he was talking about?” He sat down in her chair, elbows landing on the top of his thighs. “What happened to your hand?” She surged forward and held his hand in hers with a delicacy that made him shudder.

“I was having your back.” Not asking any further, she opened a drawer and pulled out a first aid kit. “And to answer your question, yes. It doesn’t matter what he was talking about. If it made you uncomfortable, it needed to stop.” He didn’t wince as she cleaned the blood from his hand, kissing each knuckle for extra measure, and wrapping a bandage to seal in her love.

“I appreciate that, John, but what he said was true.” He winced now.

“About being another man’s bride?” The thought made him sick. The thought that Cass was already someone else’s. That she hadn’t told him and let him fall in love with her and share in those sacred moments together. That maybe that was why she so rigidly didn’t want him to say so.

“I was supposed to be. Before I left for training, I was engaged.” She paused and waited for his reaction. Waited for him to be angry or upset and tell her she wasn’t worth the trouble.

“And I’m sure you left for a reason, Cass.” His desire to understand her almost hurt her chest. It reminded her exactly why she had left. Why Sidney Landry was most certainly not the man she was meant to marry. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want to drudge something up if you’ve already gotten over it.”

“No, if…if me and you are going to be me and you, you need to know. You deserve to know.” John leaned forward to hold her hands, kissing the back of them with all the love he could muster. “His name is Sidney Landry. His father is the biggest banker in the state and they’ve been looking to get their claws into my family’s business for decades.” Her hands shook slightly and he squeezed them tight.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving.”

“By all accounts it was an advantageous match. They were wealthy and powerful and Sidney could have any girl in Charleston that he wanted but for some god awful reason he wanted me. My mother was so delighted. She had found a man who was willing to try to tame me.” A tear rolled down her cheek and John’s thumb wiped it away.

“Cass…”

“I had no choice but to say yes and let him parade me around like some blue ribbon. I was so miserable every second I was with him. He would grab my arms so tight they bruised everytime we went somewhere. He would say the crudest things about me having his children. I spent months just wanting it all to stop.” The tears were coming in full force. Her hands grasping John’s like he was her anchor in the storm. His own eyes were swimming with emotion as he watched her exorcize these demons from within her. “One night he had been drinking so much I couldn’t understand what he was saying. But he was so angry I wouldn’t let him touch me. So angry that he…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he repeated, “I know all I need to, Cass.” John already knew he was going to kill Sidney Landry. Didn’t know when but he knew it would be slow.

“His hands were around my neck and I thought he was going to kill me. I hit him as hard as I could over and over before he stopped. I ran and I ran and I ran until I couldn’t breathe.”

“You ran all the way to London, huh?” he said in the hopes of getting a smile to crack across her face. It worked.

“I thought I ended up here because I was running away from him but maybe I was really just running to you.”

“That sounds about right,” he murmured as he stroked the top of her cheeks. “What you went through…You are so fucking strong, Cass. You deserve to be happy and to feel loved and protected.”

“I’m so damaged, John. I’m not meant for a life of teacups and doilies and standing there silently. No one is going to want this version of me.” Now that he knew the truth, she expected him to run too. To find a simple girl who could be the wife he deserved and the mother to his children he deserved.

“That’s not true, Cass, because I,” he swallowed and held her face between his hands, steady and strong, “because I love you. I am so fucking in love with you, Cassandra Cooper. I love every last bit of you and I love this version of you and know I’ll love every version that comes after.” She kissed him ferociously, not able to get enough of him even with no distance between them. “Come home with me when this is all over. Do me the honor and make me the happiest man alive.”

“I will, John, I will.” He kissed her with a groan, eager to lock this promise between them. “John, you need to know that I leave for Berlin in the morning. The operation it’s…it’s…others have tried and they haven’t come back.”

“I’m not letting you say goodbye,” he reasoned. “Not when you got me thinking about an after.” Oh it was so cruel and dangerous for the universe to do this to him. Give him the one thing he’d been wanting only to have her live her life on the same edge he did.

“If something happens to me, I need you to know I feel the same way you do.” She just needed to get through this. If she could survive Berlin, she could survive this whole thing. She could love John Egan wholeheartedly and unabashedly. She could find the courage to go back home if he was with her. “When I went to see Harding this morning, I went to turn down Berlin.”

“Turn it down?”

“I would have rather been here with you than anywhere else. No matter what those consequences were. But then I saw Buck’s letter and I was so angry.”

“I know. I deserve that.” She shook her head.

“No, you don’t because here I am doing the exact same thing.”

“Hey, you’re not going to need those farewell letters on your desk, okay? You’re going to go to Berlin, kick someone’s ass or steal state secrets to end the war and you’re going to come right back home to me. Just like how I am always going to come right back home to you.”

“Forever and ever?” she asked.

“Forever and ever,” he promised. “You going to let me hold you while we try and get some sleep tonight?”

And that was how Mary found them before the sun rose the following morning. John protectively wrapped around Cass from behind, their fingers interlocked at her middle. And they both studied each other for a few more minutes until Mary said it was really, really time for Cass to go. John not wanting to forget a single thing about this very moment. Cass not wanting to forget a single detail about the face of the man she loved. The face of the man she was fighting to keep safe.

“Don’t get distracted by thoughts of your love for me while you’re flying,” she teased as he pecked her lips a few times.

“I am going to fly so much faster with that admission off my chest.” She giggled and fell back into him easily, her plane whirring to life behind them.

“If you do, I might let you show me how much you love me when I get back.” That twinkle of mischief was there that he loved so dearly.

“Is that so? You better hurry then. I’m a patient man, Spook, but not when it comes to loving on you.”

“Cass! We got to go! Weather’s moving in!” Her heart dropped along with her smile as she turned back to John. The part she was dreading.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” she said, her fingers tracing the contours of his face one last time. His knuckles brushed her cheek and he kissed her one last time.

“I love you. You come back to me in one piece. That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll do my best, Major.” She pulled him by the front of his jacket for her own last kiss. To tell him she loved him without saying the words. Those would be for after.

She walked backwards until she couldn’t anymore. Her hand pressing to her lips before she released it into the wind, John catching the sentiment with ease. He had never felt such torment watching a plane take off as he did in that moment. It was carrying everything he held dear off to a faraway place.

“Please come back to me, Cass.”

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #mota fanfic #callum turner fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #cass and bucky

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arabellasleopardcoat · 6 months

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The Devil (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: The corpse in your bathroom is not a corpse, but rather a pure blood fanatic with a penchant for child brides. You are not impressed.

Warnings: Violence, sexual thoughts, mature language.

A/N: Part of my Halloween celebration! Part 1 here.

There is a girl screaming, somewhere. It forces Daemon out of his slumber, groaning. Gods, what in the Seven Hells had he done to deserve such a rough awakening?

“Ugh. Stop that, girl.” He says, getting up from the wet stone floor he lays on. It's oddly smooth under his palms. Daemon braces himself for the wave of nausea that will surely follow, expecting the horrible hangover he has gotten every time he drinks ever since he turned thirty.

One would think it gets easier, with age. It does not. And surely, if he had drank enough to not remember where he is or how he got here, this was going to be the mother of all hangovers.

Much to his astonishment, it's not. There is no pounding headache, nor is there a wave of nausea that follows his movement. Daemon is unable to marvel at it, though. The vague sound of a girl whimpering and cowering forces him to stop his pondering and instead focus on the problem at hand.

“Stop that, you little fool. I am not going to hurt you.” Getting up was much harder than he thought. His body feels heavier than it should. It's only as he looks down that he realizes that he is still in his armor, covered in blood.

Daemon understands it, then. He remembers the battle at the Stepstones, and his triumph over that damn crab. He looks you over and smiles.

You are a pretty thing. Younger than him, and terribly shy, you cower in a corner of what appears to be a bathing room. Someone has made sure that you bathe, as you stand before him in only a flimsy towel.

His men have always been a loyal bunch. Daemon had chosen them well. They didn't disappoint, anticipating his needs and sending someone to serve him. And not just anyone, but a woman who is exactly to his liking.

The bath is already drawn. He cannot wait to get inside it.

“Come here.” He orders you, and your face scrunches up in displeasure. “Help me get out of my armor.”

You take a hesitant step towards him before halting.

“I… I… You… There is blood.” And it's quite a dumb comment, but what else can he expect? He doesn't blame his men for not having found the epitome of wisdom here. There are barely any women at all. It's commendable enough that they have managed to find someone as sweet looking as you are.

You cower more. Your eyes shift to the door of the bathing room. That, he cannot have. Daemon wonders if you have been instructed already on what is expected of you, or if they had just shoved you into this room and ordered you to obey.

He steps closer to you, crowding you. The warm light compliments your skin, making you glow under the candlelight. You have an innocent air about you, all big eyes and pouty lips. The skin of your shoulders and arms is soft and unmarred. A perfect maiden, just in the bloom of youth.

“My men chose you well. You are a pretty one.” His dirty, bloodied hands come to grasp your pristine towel, pulling it away. You are naked as the day you were born, all displayed for his hungry eyes.

Gorgeous breasts. Lush hips. All smooth, perfect skin. If Daemon were a lesser man, he would be slobbering at the way your bosom bounces with your struggles, how your skin flushes and shines with the exertion.

“What are you doing? Leave me alone, leave me alone!” You are a feisty little thing, trying to wrestle your towel out of his hands. You are also slapping at him, everywhere you can reach.

Seven Hells. You are perfect for him, aren't you?

Daemon pulls you closer, hugging you to him. This close, he can smell the herbs and oils in your hair and skin, and it is heavenly. You smell clean and pure. Good enough to eat.

“You are so soft.” He trails kisses along your neck, keeping your wrists pinned down to your sides. You squirm, making faces and aborted noises. “And for how you struggle, you are pure too. Oh, I haven't seen a woman in months.”

“You are disgusting.” You finally manage to push him away, and you move towards a corner of the room. There is a bunch of fabric there that you quickly snatch. It's not a color he has ever seen before. You pull it over your head, and it's only then Daemon realizes it is a shirt. “Get out!”

“Don't be like that, little girl. You will be rewarded handsomely.” He says, half-heartedly. While play fighting might be fun, Daemon is too tired to truly fight you. Besides, he finds it distasteful. He might coerce, but rape is another matter altogether.

“I am not a sex worker!” You complain, from your corner in the room.

"Not for sale, huh?” Daemon smiles. He is amused at your refusal. Most serving girls would trip all over themselves for a night with him, especially if he was offering money for it. Not you, though. You were awfully proud for a commoner. It would only make seducing you more sweet.

“Who the hell are you?” Your voice is snappish. It seems like you finally lost your patience. It's not the tone that makes him pause, though. Daemon has realized from early on that you are quite spirited. No, instead, it's the fact that you don't know him.

“Daemon Targaryen.” He offers, after a pause. The idea of not being recognized in sight is one that is deeply confusing to him. Even here, so far from his home, he is known by the men and women that serve his army. For the Seven's sake, even the Crab King's men shudder at the mere mention of his name.

Something must be wrong. Daemon is somewhere he shouldn't be. There is no other explanation for this, and it makes his skin crawl.

You stare at him, in silence. Your lips purse. There appears to be a storm raging behind your eyes. Whatever confusing thoughts you are having, you do not share them with him. Instead, you point towards the door.

“No. Nope. Out!”

And Daemon, after realizing something is very wrong, does not have the heart to argue. He walks out of the bathing room, head hanging low. He is not ashamed, but he's not sure of what he feels, either.

When he crosses the threshold, the feeling of wrongness intensifies. There is a bright, white light illuminating the space he finds himself in. It doesn't look natural, it is much too harsh for it.

The furniture in the room is all wrong, too. There is nothing made of wood in sight, the love seat is shaped wrong and there is some strange artifact resting on it. Everything he touches seems to be made of a lighter material than wood and rock, that feels off against his skin.

Daemon grabs a small rectangle, covered in raised numbers. He presses down on them, curious about their texture.

Something on the wall lights up. People appear on the walls. Daemon screams, startled by their sudden appearance.

“Who are you? Identify yourselves!”

The people on the wall ignore him. He takes out Dark Sister. Now that he looks at them, Daemon realizes they are not people. They are too small for it. They must be something different. He thinks of the beasts of Old Valyria and comes up blank.

“Are you trying to stab my TV?” Your voice makes him turn, swinging his sword. You are gaping at him. Somewhere along his journey through this strange room, you seem to have found some men's underclothes that loosely cover your legs. You still wear the same shirt, which does nothing to support your bosom. It should make you look deeply unattractive, yet somehow, it does not. Perhaps, because Daemon knows exactly what hides under those clothes.

“Seven Hells, girl.” Daemon rubs a hand over his face. He is starting to get a headache. “Why are there tiny people on the wall?”

“It's…” You grab the rectangle from his hand and press something. The people on the wall disappear. “It's not real. It's like a picture.”

“A painting, you mean?” Daemon frowns. He had never heard something like it. You seem about to explain, so he shakes his head. “It's no matter. I see you traded your clothing for something that hides your charms. Good thinking. It will make it easier to focus around you. ”

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms over your chest. Daemon can't help but leer. You are just too damn easy to rile up.

"Rather unfashionable, though.” He adds. “And it doesn't hide your chest fully.”

“This is nonsensical.” You say, sitting down on your strange love seat and pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. “Fucking witch.”

“Witch?” Daemon sits next to you. The love seat is made of dark leather. He guesses his armor won't stain it too much. It's awkward regardless, the joints in the metal not meant to bend that way. He starts taking off the chest plate, only paying you half a mind. He figures the venting that will surely come will bore him to tears.

Listening without hearing it's an art Daemon perfected a long time ago. Entertaining young maidens is no hard task at all. Mostly, they are pleased with hearing a few awed sounds here and there and some insightful questions.

Most men, they don't bother pretending to listen to women at all. It is what makes him so successful when it comes to courtship. You don't actually have to listen, it's enough just pretending to do so. Girls like you, they are just like flowers. Pay them a little attention, make them feel seen, and they will open up their petals. Then, it's not hard at all to pick one.

“Oh, forget it.” You mutter, and it's so bitter it takes him aback. It occurs to him, you were probably not about to air your grievances about someone, but perhaps alluding to a true witch.

“You consort with witches? Is that the reason for these strange artifacts?” Daemon raises his eyebrows. If any, it would make some sense.

"I do not.” You answer, nose scrunching up cutely. You look rather young, but he has met whores who look like girls barely out of childhood and are old maids already. There is a certain innocence to your demeanor, though, that indicates either a sheltered life or youth. “I am about to sound insane.”

“Go on.” He stops trying to remove his chest plate and turns towards you. This time, he gives you his full attention. Your eyes are wide and earnest, not a hint of dishonesty in sight. It's very refreshing. As a Prince, he is used to people lying to him to try to gain his favor. You don't look capable of it.

“A woman, she gifted me a love spell. Unblock my path, give me my other half and all.” You give a small groan, rubbing your eyes again. Embarrassment makes you sweet, it appears.

His other half. Hm. Daemon gently cradles your jaw in one of his hands, ignoring your squeals of protest. Pretty, for a commoner, and obedient, too. Your struggling stops as soon as his grip turns harsher. You look up at him, making a face.

“You are getting blood on me.” Your voice is shaky. Daemon has always enjoyed intimidating others. There is something so delectable about seeing fear overtake someone's face and knowing he is the one in control. It's even better with women.

But with you? It's not good. It's positively delicious. Your eyes lower in submission just the barest hint, before snapping up to meet his, angered. You bite your lips, as if unsure if you should be excited or scared of the display.

It's not like it's the first time a woman shows excitement and admiration over Daemon's prowess. But it's not a common reaction. Most women, they recoil at the barest hint of a threat or complain about his brutality. Those who mix excitement with fear, in his experience, are a special type of women. One that is very fun to play with.

“A bit late for that.” Daemon gestures at the love seat, carelessly. He is not very interested in discussing this, really. He is more interested in the fact that there might be some magic at hand. And not only that, but that you might be his fated half. “I have smeared it all over your chambers already.”

“Home. Not chamber.” You correct, haughtily. It's a sad thought, that these little rooms are all you have. Yet, what else could he expect from a commoner? No matter how pitiful, though, there are more important matters.

Focus. He needs to focus and get the answer he needs. But your body is tensing up, eyes darting towards the door. You look about to try to slip out of his grip, perhaps put some distance between the two of you. Daemon can damn near taste it. So to make sure you do not move, he gets bolder.

His hand goes lower. From your jaw, to the side of your neck. Not yet at the base of it, as not to choke you, but pressing hard enough you could imagine the threat. Think about how his hand could slip a little lower, or he could press a little harder.

Your pulse jumps rabbit fast under his fingers. Your lips part. They, they close. He wonders if that is the face you would make, were him to silence you with a kiss.

“Let's not get sidetracked. You? My other half?” Daemon frowns. You are pretty enough, with an edge of wordly innocence that would lead even the most pious man to sin. But you are not Valyrian. Your hair is too dark, your eyes are not purple. Why would you be his?

When Daemon thought of settling down, he always thought it would be with a Valyrian woman. While you were a far cry from his current wife, the Bronze Bitch, you were not exactly what he had in mind.

Daemon has always wanted a Valyrian bride. It is the way things should be. The only way to honor his heritage, keep his bloodline alive, ensure his children are special. How could a Targaryen claim a dragon if their blood was so diluted they barely looked like a Targaryen anymore?

Yet, Daemon is not blind. You seem to fit him in ways he could have never expected, as if you had been made for him. If your witch, or the gods, had brought him here, there had to be a reason.

“I think the same, trust me.” You roll your eyes, a bit too cheekily for someone whose windpipe he could crush at any second. It reminds him of a puppy or kitten, trying to seem ferocious. Daemon allows it only because it is endearing.

“What's so bad about me? I am a Targaryen prince, I own a dragon, and not to mention, I am extremely handsome.” He is half joking, half serious. Daemon is a tad offended, in truth. If any, he should be the one having all sorts of qualms about you being destined for him. You are a commoner, with nothing to your name, and from an absolutely unimportant family.

“The fact that you are fictional, for starters.” You jerk your pretty little head away, scoffing. That has to be the oddest thing he has heard you say all evening. And you have said plenty.

“Fictional?”

“In books only. And a TV adaptation.” You mutter, getting up from the love seat. You grab a blanket, thrown over one of the other seats, and wrap yourself in it.

“Huh.” Daemon's mind is working faster than ever, trying to decipher what you mean. This is not Westeros. That's clear. But what is it? Is this another world where he is only a story to you? Or is this some distant future, where tales of his name and deeds have spread?

“Huh, what?” You turn towards him, all wrapped up in your blanket. You look like an empress of old, blanket over your shoulders trailing after you like a cape.

Daemon takes a step towards you. Then another. You do not move, pinned to the spot by his gaze. Your lips apart again, as if to say something. This time, he does shut you up with a kiss.

Your lips are soft against his. Your mouth is pliant, and you open up for him beautifully. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling to keep him close. Daemon doesn't care that your grip is bordering on the painful. If any, it makes him more excited.

His hands go to grasp at your hips, greedily. Your flesh yields like soft butter under his touch, and you give just the smallest sigh against his mouth.

He crowds you, walking you backwards towards a table. Your mouths are still locked together, your breath coming in hot little puffs of air against his. It's a perfect fit, and as the back of your knees hit the table, and you let yourself be lifted onto it, Daemon wonders how he could ever question you being destined to be his.

“Does that feel fictional to you?” He asks you, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your lips twitch upwards.

“I am not certain.” You grin. “You would have to kiss me again, to be sure.”

“Just to be certain.” Daemon repeats, grinning back. “We can't have you having doubts.”

“Of course.” You answer, leaning closer. Your hand goes to cup his jaw. Your palms are tinted with blood. He has gotten you all dirty. The idea of you being bathed in blood, just as he is, from just being close to him is intoxicating in a way Daemon can't yet name.

He gives you a passionate, harsh kiss. Your head sags softly, until it hits his collarbone. Daemon decides it then. He is not going back alone, not to the Bronze Bitch, not to that damn war. He will have you, one way or the other.

Daemon gathers you up in his arms, walking back to the bathing room.

“Come. We need to get cleaned up.”

You nuzzle into him, soft as a kitten. You let him take your clothes off, then his. The water in the tub is lukewarm. One of your hands comes to rub at his shoulder blades, holding a rag.

Daemon grabs your wrist and presses a soft kiss to your palm. You look at him, eyes filled with lust. You are perfect for him.

You have always been.

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littledollll · 6 months

Text

Candlelight

Lucifer Morningstar x Dom!reader

A/n: this was like a 4 month long wild-ass ride. But certainly very fun.

Warnings: sub!lucifer, semi-public (throne room), whiny Lucifer, praise, lil worship, minimal fingering, lots of lil touches, cunnulings, slight hair pulling.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

“You are absolutely gorgeous, my sweet devil…” words like honey whispered in their ear as your hands wandered under their robe. Their skin covered in goosebumps. Your fingertips barely grazing over their chest and torso, enough to make them shiver and let out a shaky breath.

You hummed, moving your hands up to cup their face, bringing their gaze up to yours. Their tongue wetting their lips as they looked at you with obvious desire, even adoration. “You’re gorgeous too… so perfect.” A smile grazed your lips at that, leaving them rather proud of themselves, but they couldn’t figure out exactly what you wanted from them. Lightly caressing their cheek with your thumb as you looked down at them, Lucifer wondered if you’d touch them, or kiss them, or do anything at all to sedate their burning need for you.

“Just what are you up to, my pet?” Usually a sentence like that would go accompanied with an amused or challenging tone, something that seeped dominance and confidence, but no. Not today. It was whimpered out, a plead. “Mm.. just looking at your pretty eyes, enjoying the way you look at me like I hung the moon…” you heard them whine at your words.

“Kiss me, please my angel…” a plead through their soft lips. But you wouldn’t. Not yet.

“Can’t I appreciate my lord without being demanded of..?” You felt them suck in a breath as your hands wandered their breasts, not truly providing any sort of true pleasure, pleasure that they needed so badly. “Oh my... my lovely devil, you’re shivering..” you murmured softly, as your hands reached their soft stomach, featherlight touch igniting a heat between their plush thighs.

Their mind was being completely over taken by you. Your soft words and caresses enough to have them blissfully trusted into your complete control.

And you moved lower, trailing their perfect skin with light kisses and bites, having a goal in mind to mark them as your own. “Breathe.. and just enjoy it, hm? Can you do that just for me, my sweet devil..?” your lips wrap around Lucifer’s nipples, sucking and licking the sensitive buds. Being met with a wonderful whine tumbling from their lips at the action, and a quick nod to your questions.

What a view you had.. their head lazily tilted back in pleasure as they went along with your instructions, at this distance you could hear their heart beating wildly in their chest, their lungs struggling to keep up with such a simple touch, it seems that all that teasing did it’s job.

The only lighting in the room were candles mounted on each corner of the walls, creating a beautiful incandescent glow on their pale skin. Oh how beautiful they look bathed in the candlelight.

“What if I want to worship you, hm?” You knelt in front of them now, your knees uncomfortable against the cold hard floor, and you wished you would have waited until they got back to your shared chambers so that you would at least be protected by the carpeted floors. But where’s the fun in that when you could take them in their throne? Just the idea of the ruler of hell being made to fall apart in the very place that symbolizes their power, made you squirm and press your thighs together even more.

Ever so gently their hand brushed through your hair as they looked down at you. Their cheeks flushed a light pink, their eyes glassy with need and chest heaving. “And.. how is it you wish to worship me, my pet?” Lucifer asked with a slight tilt of their head and a breathless voice, and how you love when they do that, such a simple thing, so horribly attractive.

The little smirk they got in response was really enough said paired with that look in your eyes, but you never miss an opportunity to tease. “Well.. I was thinking of.. using my mouth, maybe leaving my sweet devil completely marked as mine as I take my time bruising every inch of this soft skin of yours..” Sultry and teasing are the only words Lucifer could use to describe you at the moment. As you took your sweet time talking, whispering all the filthy ideas running through your head and your hands so softly wandered over their bare thighs, only exposed by the opening in their robe which you didn’t bother to move.

“And.. you’d like us to stay here?” They asked almost hesitantly, like they already knew the answer, which was confirmed by the look in your eyes. “Right here.”

Lucifer nodded eagerly in agreement, they wouldn’t dare go against you, not in their current state. And maybe, though they’d never admit it.. it was something they’ve been wanting to do for quite some time. “Is that a yes, my devil?” You rested your head on their thigh, nuzzling against it as you looked up at them with a slight tilt of your head. And you swore you could see tears gathering in their eyes.

“I- yes. You’re so perfect, my angel. So perfect, I’m so so lucky to have your beautiful eyes looking at me in such a way, in any way-“ Lucifer began to ramble desperately, like all the praise and worship would make you finally touch them. But you let them continue. The more they talked, their voice became choked up. The feeling of the muscles on their thighs tensing and flexing under you was delightful.

It was almost like you didn’t need to do a thing, as Lucifer was getting themselves worked up, but you didn’t have the heart to let them continue any longer without a little help, well, not today.

You shut them up instantly as you pried their thighs apart, which wasn’t at all difficult. They whined and whimpered as you cararessed and inched closer to where they really needed you, and then completely silenced them as your lips met their soaking heat.

Lucifer’s hips bucked and you immediately forced them down, with a stern glare right after, enough to make them grip on the throne to stabilize themselves, apologies tumbling out their lips. “Sorry- ‘m sorry angel, I’ll behave I promise!”

You weren’t even truly upset at their squirming, but their desperate apologies were definitely always welcome. To have the powerful lightbringer themselves, submitting to you was nothing less than perfect. “Very good, my sweet devil. I guess I have no reason to punish you after such sweet apologies, hm?”

Not bothering to wait for a reply, you resumed your tight grasp on their hips. Licking a line up from their entrance to their pulsing clit, you wrapped your lips around it once again, suckling on the sensitive bud, earning a breathy moan in return.

For Lucifer, the red robe was starting to feel constricting. Soft silk surrounding their burning body, only making them feel more heated as your ministrations continued at a harsher pace. The material gathered as it fell down their shoulders messily, making them look even more ethereal, if that was even possible. It would be hard to find anything more perfect than the flustered look on their face. A light blush scattered from their cheeks down their neck and chest, paired with the unsteady breathing and tensing muscles, you thought it would be impossible for them to look any better. And you stand corrected.

You take a moment to admire their disheveled look, only to be scolded by them with a whine, reminding you to continue with your so-called worship.

A borderline pornographic moan escaping their lips once you pushed two fingers slowly into them and teased their clit with your tongue. The soft ruffling of their wings behind them reached your ears and you couldn’t help but give into their every need now.

Their breathing grew ragged as you set a quick pace. You gave them a few seconds to adjust to the feeling as you added a third, before returning to the precious pace. Their bucking hips settled slightly as they moved in favor of your thrusts now, fucking themselves on your fingers, subtly grinding against your tongue.

As a hand messily tangled and gripped on your hair, you felt their movements get a little more intentional. Like they somehow needed more and more of you. A gentle squeeze on their thigh from your hand was enough to make them losen their tight grip, reminding them of their place.

You might be currently dominant, but you certainly can’t deny how perfect it is to have them use you for their own pleasure. Seeing them get lost in the feeling with their needy and desperate movements.

After a moment lost in your own admiration for your lover, you heard them cry out your name so pitifully. Soft thighs tightened around your head, forcing you in place for a moment as you took your time drinking up every drop of their sweet release, finishing with a kiss on their twitching thighs.

“So messy.., my lord. Did I successfully satisfy you? Do you feel worshiped?” You said in a playful tone as you resumed your place over their lap. You hummed as you cupped their cheeks ever so gently, pulling them into a messy kiss. “Finally got your kiss, hm?”

They let their head tilt back again in pure bliss, a satisfied, dizzy little smile on their face. “I can’t quite remember. I think you may have to do it all again.. just to make sure.”

#lucifer sandman #sandman lucifer x reader #the sandman #sandman lucifer smut #gwendoline christie #lucifer morningstar the sandman #sandman lucifer #the sandman lucifer #lucifer sandman smut #the sandman lucifer morningstar #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #the sandman smut #lucifer morningstar (the sandman)

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ivystoryweaver · 7 months

Text

Moon Boys Celebrate Your Birthday HC's

Based on this ask by @soulsforsales: How do you think the moon boys would treat you on your birthday???

Oh my goodness 🎂🎈🎉 Ok.

*angst warning, but mostly fluff

MARC

Birthdays are hard for Marc. So, so hard. They were when he felt most alone, forgotten and unseen.

It’s when he missed Randall so much he felt physically sick.

It’s when his mom refused to acknowledge her living son.

It’s when his dad made a feasible effort but ended up defending his abuser anyway.

So they’re difficult for Marc. But it’s your birthday. It’s you. And you would never.

Marc is going to overcompensate.

He had half-assed Home birthdays with no friends and a homemade cake. Those can be great if done well, but you’re worth more.

He’s going to make a reservation at an impressive restaurant the night before your birthday. It will be unique, intimate, romantic. Candlelight, soft music, delicious food and drinks.

You will have his undivided attention and be his only priority.

The fact that you are in the world is something he cherishes.

Intense eye contact will melt you into a puddle. He’ll keep reaching across the table for your hand.

He’ll pull out your chair and guide you along with his hand on the small of your back. Everyone will know you are his and this is a special day for you.

You barely make it out of the restaurant, just a touch blissfully tipsy, when his lips crash into yours

JAKE

^idk why I keep seeing this Drive guy as Jake lol

Jake will be celebrating, probably on the weekend closest to your birthday, maybe the night after.

There will be singing, in more than one language.

There will probably be dancing even if it’s just a quick couple of Salsa steps around the kitchen.

He cooks for you, making a huge mess. But it's yummy.

He wants you to smile and laugh. He wants to make you feel as amazing as you always make him feel.

He tried to decorate your cake, but it's hilariously bizarre. The two of you try to fix it and get into a frosting war.

It gets on the tip of your nose and cheek. Jake swipes it away and submits his thumb to your lips for cleaning.

You hold his gaze, dragging your tongue across the pad of his thumb before sucking it into your mouth.

Then you get the rest of your birthday present. For the rest of the night.

STEVEN

Steven doesn’t quite remember a lot of birthdays - not childhood ones anyway.

Memories are either absent, confusing, or completely a false shadow of what really happened to them.

He has to sort out his feelings about birthdays.

But again, this isn’t his birthday, it’s yours.

He’s waiting for you when you wake up. “Happy birthday, love.” He wants you to know right away that he’s remembered.

He gazes into your eyes and traces your lips with his fingertips.

"Steven," you whisper as he brushes his lips over yours.

You're late to work because of him.

He's done little things for you: your lunch is prepared, your favorite tea or coffee is in your favorite mug.

Your favorite sweater is clean and warmed in the dryer. He wraps you up in it before you leave.

When you get to work, there are flowers delivered, with a card. He is a classic romantic after all.

When you arrive home, he is positively giddy. He’s planned a scavenger hunt for you. It’s full of mischief and riddles.

You follow the clues, watching Steven's gorgeous brown eyes sparkle with excitement as his soft voice lovingly encourages you from clue to clue.

You finally get to the end and discover your present. Steven's taking you away on a trip.

Of course Marc and Jake will show up too.

The boys end up saying "Happy Birthweek" after a couple years of this. You’re worth a lot of celebrating.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

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#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight headcanons #moon boys #tw food #tw drinking

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markie-baby · 6 months

Text

Butt-Naked at the MGM ✨️

"How am I supposed to tell yah?

I don't wanna see you with anyone but me,

Nobody gets me like you.

How am I supposed to let you go?

Only like myself when I'm with you,

Nobody gets me, you do..."

Nobody Gets Me - SZA

Summary- You were no stranger to surprises when it came to dating Mark Tuan, but nothing could prepare you for what you would learn on your one-year anniversary; your sweet, shy, and respectable boyfriend was a closeted freak.

Warnings - cursing, explicit sex, spanking, edging, biting, bondage Genre- Fluff/Smut (18+ MA) idol!got7, female! reader Pairing- Female Reader x Mark Tuan Length- she's super long, mama. So get some wine 'cuz it's story time.

You savored the lingering taste of the wine on your lips, casting a drunken yet longing gaze at Mark Tuan, your striking boyfriend. His allure was impossible to resist, and tonight, he seemed to have cranked it up a notch. His black hair was brushed back, and a few strands dangled free over his eyebrows, tempting you further.

So damn gorgeous. You sighed to yourself.

The gleam of his diamond studs and Cuban link danced in the soft candlelight of your private table, accentuating his devilish charm. Your eyes couldn't help but descend to the bottom button of his open shirt, revealing his chest and a tantalizing mole. Mark's visuals were utterly provocative, though he seemed oblivious as he perused the drink menu.

As you continued to admire Mark's enticing form, your thoughts wandered to the past year you'd spent together. Mark had always been the perfect gentleman. He was polite, funny, respectful, treated, and sexed like a queen. You loved how he doted on you and made you feel special. But there was always something about him that seemed reserved... like he was holding back. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but there was an air of mystery surrounding him.

Mark finally looked up from the drink menu, his dark eyes locking with yours. A playful smile curled at the corner of his lips, and he reached across the table, his hand finding yours. "You seem lost in thought," he said, his voice low and seductive.

"Just reminiscing," you replied, your voice husky, your eyes never leaving his. "It's been an incredible year."

Mark's fingers tightened around yours, and his gaze deepened. "It has been incredible," he agreed, his tone filled with meaning. "One of the best years of my life."

Your heart fluttered in response to Mark's sincere admission.

"Before I met you, I felt content with my life. I had a sense of fulfillment in everything I had achieved so far, and my drive kept me moving forward." Mark glanced at your hands clasped in his.

"Then I met you, and time seemed to stop in a way I never imagined. You've taught me the beauty of slowing down and truly savoring every precious moment."

Mark's tender confession rendered you breathless; a soft 'I love you' slipped past your glossed lips.

"I love you too." His thumb, adorned with a ring, tenderly caressed your cheek.

His undeniable thoughtfulness and sweetness couldn't be ignored. However, the harsh reality of the situation was sinking in rapidly, akin to the Thunderbird you had knocked back earlier...

You were horny as all hell.

"We still got the rest of the night to celebrate. Why don't we get another drink and get out of here?" Mark traced the menu with his slender finger. "What do you want, baby?

"I think I've found exactly what I want," you said, your voice laced with anticipation.

Mark's eyes sparked with intrigue as he looked at you. "Yeah?" he purred, leaning in closer.

You leaned in as well, your lips almost touching, your words a whisper. "I want you, Mark," you confessed, your gaze locked with his, brimming with desire.

Mark's breath caught in his throat as your words hung in the air, creating a charged atmosphere between you two. The restaurant noises seemed to fade away, leaving only the intimate bubble of your shared desire. You triggered something in him. Mark scooted his chair closer, his lips brushed gently against your ear.

"Want me?" His warm breath tingled your skin. "And how bad you want me, y/n?"

Your heart skipped a beat at your boyfriend's teasing response.

"Badly."

A slow, knowing smile spread across Mark's face. "Well, then," he said, his voice low and filled with promise. "I think I can arrange that. You ready for your surprise?"

"Surprise? Where are you taking me?"

He downed his glass of Thunderbird, anticipation growing as Mark discreetly signaled the waiter, asking for the check. In a swift exchange, you both exited the restaurant, hand in hand, bound for a destination where your desires could unfold.

He maintained an air of mystery leading you to a waiting car. Soon, the shimmering lights of Las Vegas enveloped you. The MGM Grand stood tall in the distance, and to your surprise, Mark had secured a balcony suite, a sight that left you astonished.

"Mark, this is beyond amazing," you marveled, your eyes scanning the balcony suite's luxurious details.

Mark's smile radiated warmth, a glint of modesty in his demeanor. "I'm glad you like it. I know I was on the road for a while, so I wanted to make it up to you."

"You really outdone yourself, I don't know how I'm gonna top this." you replied playfully.

With a soft chuckle, he waved off the compliment. "You're important to me. Seeing you smile is everything."

His words resonated deeply, and you took his hand, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Thank you, Mark. I feel incredibly lucky to have you."

He met your gaze, sincerity evident in his eyes. "I'm lucky to have you, too."

As the night embraced the glittering skyline, Mark and you found yourselves cuddling on the balcony of the suite, clinking glasses filled with chilled champagne. The city below was alive with a symphony of lights and distant laughter, casting an enchanting aura around you both. The cool evening breeze danced through your hair as you leaned against the balcony railing, savoring the moment.

"I could stay up here forever..." You sighed.

"Me too," Mark's arm tightened around you. "But why don't we take this cuddle session inside?"

"I'd love to." You playfully kissed your boyfriend on the nose before turning towards the door.

Your body stops short when Mark grabs your wrist.

"Can I have a kiss first?" A smirk appeared on his lips.

"Of course," you whispered, pressing your lips against his.

The kiss was sweet and passionate, a tender dance between your lips. Mark's arms encircled you, pulling you closer as his kisses became deeper and more intense. He smelled of expensive cologne and tasted like champagne, a taste which you quickly fell in love with. His hands moved down to grab a handful of you, and you could feel the heat building between you. Mark had never been this handsy.

You couldn't help but feel excited by this sudden change in his behavior.

"Mm... Mark," you gasped. "We should... probably head inside..."

"Why?" he breathed, his voice husky.

"Because..." you said, a sultry grin curling your lips. "We're starting to get a little carried away out here, and someone might see us."

"I'm sorry", He blushed slightly. "My mind is kinda in the gutter right now."

"Oh, really? I can't tell."

He let out a soft chuckle and released you, his eyes full of lust. "C'mon, let's go inside."

You agreed, biting your lip.

As Mark guided you into the luxe suite, the thrill of the moment intensified. Finally settling onto the plush king-sized mattress, the softness of the sheets against your skin added to the intoxicating atmosphere. Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend had quietly entered the room amidst the sensation, his presence unnoticed in your heightened sensory bliss.

"You seem comfortable," he commented, his voice a soft whisper in your ear.

"Mmhm," you sighed, your eyes closed, body relaxed.

Mark's arms slowly slid around your waist, his lips pressed to the side of your neck as he placed his body weight next to yours.

"What's gotten into you other than that Thunderbird?"

"I'm not sure," Mark admitted, a slight hint of embarrassment in his tone. "I guess I'm just a bit worked up tonight."

"Is that so?"

You felt Mark's smile against your skin, his hand tracing up the curve of your spine. "Maybe," he teased. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"No, not at all." You turned to meet his eyes, your hand gently caressing his face. "In fact, I like it. You're usually so... reserved. I'm into this side of you."

Mark smiled sincerely. "I'm happy to hear that. You've opened my eyes to a lot of new things. I'm learning more about myself every day."

You kissed him, a gentle, yet passionate kiss. As the kiss deepened, your hands began to explore his body, feeling the contours of his chest beneath his shirt. Mark's hands found their way to a familiar area, his touch electric against your skin. The sensations of desire and intimacy filled the room, blending with the soft, sensual lighting.

Mark pulled back slightly, his seductive gaze locked on yours.

"You know, it's been an amazing year, so, I want to make tonight a little different," he said, his voice a seductive whisper. "I'm going to give you a taste of what I've learned."

"And what exactly have you learned, Mr. Tuan?"

"To be honest, I've always had these fantasies, but I was too shy to bring them up before."

You looked at him in surprise. This was definitely not what you were expecting. But instead of being shocked or put off, you felt a surge of arousal at the thought of exploring Mark's hidden desires.

"I'm all yours tonight," you said with a smile. "Don't need to be shy around me. We have been together for over a year after all."

Mark's face flushed with excitement and relief.

"I'm not as vanilla in bed as I've been letting on," he admitted. "When we have sex, as much as I love it, I fantasize about doing the nastiest things to you."

"Nasty, huh?" You purred, tracing your finger along his jawline. "Tell me, what kind of nasty things have you wanted to do to me?"

Mark's gaze darkened, a look of pure desire in his eyes. "You really want to know?"

"I do," you confirmed, your voice soft, yet laced with a hint of intrigue.

"Are you sure?" he asked anxiously.

"Absolutely," you replied with a reassuring smile.

Mark's hesitation disappeared. His dark gaze bored into yours, the intensity of his emotions reflected in his eyes.

"Well, for starters," Mark's hand teased your inner thigh. "I've always wanted to pour oil all over that pretty skin of yours."

"You want to massage me?" You grinned, amused by his choice of fantasy.

"Not just massage," His lips traveled closer to your ear. "But tease, pinch, spank..."

"Mark Tuan, are you into BDSM or something?"

Mark's lips curled into a seductive smile. "That.." he said, his hand creeping higher, his fingers lightly brushing your panties. "And among a few other kinks. Is that okay?"

A wave of desire crashed over you at the realization of what Mark was hinting at. You nodded slowly, your breath quickening as you started to feel a familiar sensation growing in your thighs.

Mark stood up off the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt in the most torturous fashion. Slowly exposing his chest and tattoos inch by inch. "Can I show them to you?"

"Sure," you breathed, distracted by the strip show your boyfriend was putting on.

His buttoned shirt slowly slid off his toned shoulders and fell to the floor. "I need a yes or a no, beautiful."

You felt your core pulse at the request. "Yes."

Mark walked over to the closet, opened the door, and disappeared from view. You could hear the sound of hangers moving and then the rustling of cloth. He returned, holding a black satin tie in his hands.

"May I?"

You nodded and closed your eyes as he gently tied the fabric around your head, making sure you couldn't see. Your senses were on high alert, acutely aware of every movement, every sound, and smell. You felt the bed dip as Mark climbed on top of you, his weight pressing into the mattress, his heat radiating toward you. His breath was warm on your cheek as he leaned close.

"Is that comfortable?" he whispered.

"Yes," you sighed.

His hands traced the contours of your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The sensation of not being able to see heightened the experience, making every touch, every kiss, every whisper of breath feel magnified.

Mark kissed your neck softly. "I've been waiting to get this dress off of you..." he said.

You felt his fingers slowly unzipping the front of your dress, exposing your bare chest. Your nipples hardened under his touch, and you gasped as his tongue flicked against the sensitive flesh. His lips trailed a hot path down your neck and across your collarbone, before circling around your hardened nipple. He suckled greedily, his teeth grazing the delicate skin. You writhed under his touch, your hips arching into his.

"So damn responsive..." Mark murmured.

You felt his mouth leave your skin, and the sound of him pulling the bottom half of your dress reached your ears.

Suddenly, you felt a cool, smooth sensation on your skin, followed by a sweet scent that filled the air. It took a moment for you to realize that Mark was drizzling warm oil onto your body.

The oil was slick and luxurious as Mark's hands glided over your skin, massaging away any tension or stress. His touch was confident and skilled, kneading your muscles with just the right amount of pressure.

As the massage continued, you felt yourself becoming more and more relaxed, surrendering to the sensations that were coursing through your body. The combination of the warm oil and Mark's expert touch had you melting into the bed.

"Mm... that feels so good," you moaned.

Mark chuckled. "Good, 'cause I'm about to make it feel even better," he murmured.

His hands traveled down to your legs, kneading the tense muscles there. You felt the mattress shift as Mark positioned himself between your legs, his fingers deftly slipping under the edge of your panties.

A gasp escaped your lips as his fingers began to work their magic on your most sensitive areas, his touch gentle yet firm. Your body trembled in anticipation, knowing that Mark's talented fingers were mere moments away from sending you into ecstasy.

You cried out as his fingers finally made contact with your slick, throbbing core, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Mark's pace increased, and he circled your clit, his fingers slipping and sliding through your folds. You gripped the sheets as you arched your back, desperate for more.

Mark's breath was warm against your skin as he leaned close, whispering into your ear.

"You're soaking wet, baby," he urged, his voice low and commanding. "You've been wanting this all night, huh?"

"So...badly..." You blushed into the bed sheets, turning your head away from your boyfriend's filthy speech.

"Am I making you shy?" Mark teased and planted kisses on your neck between each word. "I can stop if it's too much... but something about the way you won't stop squeezing around my fingers tells me you don't want me to."

Usually, the most you'd get out of Mark during sex was a couple of moans and a few curses, which you never complained about. But his sudden rolodex of vulgarity was completely unexpected, giving you the ultimate sensory experience.

"I want you to cum for me," he urged, his voice low and commanding.

You shuddered as your orgasm hit, waves of pleasure washing over you, soaking your panties. Your body trembled and quaked, a guttural moan escaping your lips. As the intensity of the climax faded, you slumped against the bed, utterly spent. You were vaguely aware of the sound of the oil bottle being placed on the nightstand, and then Mark's weight shifted on the bed.

"Open your eyes, baby," he cooed, gently pulling the silk from your eyes.

As you opened your eyes, the world came into focus. Your body was glistening with oil, and Mark was hovering above you, his gaze filled with admiration.

"You are so fucking gorgeous," he said. "How did I get so lucky?"

A blush tinged your cheeks.

"I could say the same for you."

Mark leaned in and kissed you passionately.

"You're the best gift I've ever had," he whispered.

His words sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you found yourself craving more.

"What are you gonna do with me now?"

"Hmm," Mark contemplated while he touched the oil slick on your skin. "I should clean up my mess, shouldn't I?"

His lips reconnected to your chest, planting delicate kisses on your collarbone, and travelling down to your stomach. He planted a final kiss beneath your belly button before looking up at you with innocent eyes.

"Can I kiss you down here, babe?"

Your heart raced as you looked down at him with desire. You couldn't believe how much you wanted him right now. You nodded without a word, biting your lip in anticipation.

"How about a little biting?" Mark added. "I promise I won't do it hard."

Your heart was pounding in your chest as he looked up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. You couldn't help but groan in pleasure at his words, already imagining the feeling of his teeth sinking into your skin.

"Yes," You breathed.

His lips found their way back to your stomach, trailing down to the apex of your thighs. His fingers dug into your hips as he planted open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, teasing you with his tongue. You let out a gasp as his teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. He looked up at you with a wicked smile, knowing full well the effect he was having on you.

"More," you whimpered, your body arching towards him.

He obliged, his teeth sinking deeper into your skin as you moaned in ecstasy. It was all you could do to grip the sheets as he continued his assault, his tongue lapping at the sting he had left behind.

You were practically shaking at this point, your body begging for him to give you what you needed.

"Ready for a little love bite?" he asked again. The words made you tremble and your body ached for more. You nodded in response, signaling that you were ready.

"I always wanted to nibble on these thighs of yours." His teeth sank deeper into your thigh as he spoke.

"I've been wanting to kiss on them, too." He said between bites. You moaned softly at his words and felt yourself getting wetter.

His mouth was hot against your thigh, and your eyes shut closed as he moved to the other leg. "And I've been wanting to taste them." He whispered, his wet tongue drawing circles on your skin. Your thighs started to shake as you tried to hold your composure. His hands held your thighs still, not allowing you to move.

"Please". You begged him.

Mark's dark eyes darted up at you. "Please, what?" He asked as he licked on your panty line.

You moaned loudly and arched your back, as you struggled to get the words out. "Please, babe... stop torturing me." You whimpered, wanting nothing more than to feel his soft lips on your core. He smiled and nodded at you, as he began to drag the corner of your panties down with his teeth.

Without a word, Mark pressed his lips to your entrance, forming a seal around your folds with his tongue. He touched all of the inner walls of your wetness with it, rotating it around before pushing forward, exploring the depths of you.

Mark moaned, sending waves of pleasure through your body with every stroke of his tongue. His fingers gripped your hips as he pulled you closer to him and buried his face in your crotch. His tongue darted down your slit as he tried to push it inside of you. Your hands shot down to his hair, fighting the urge to scream as his tongue explored your inner walls.

It wasn't long till Mark felt your walls pulsing against his tongue, signaling that you were close. Your hips started to buck against his face as your orgasm neared and Mark quickly pulled his mouth away from you. You let out a disappointed whine as he pulled his face away from your dripping entrance.

"Did you like that, babe?" Mark asked, licking his lips seductively.

"Mhmm," You opened your eyes and met his gaze, too horny to even speak properly. "Why did you stop?"

"I'm edging you," Mark smirked devilishly. "It's pretty cruel of me, actually."

"I don't mind," you replied, a pleading look in your eyes.

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow. "You must be as much a freak as I am then, huh?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard his words.

"Please, Mark. I need you to do it again."

"Oh, I'll do it, babe." Mark's voice dripped with lust.

He bit his lip at you with a playful grin and then leaned forward to kiss you, his soft lips enveloping yours as he reached down with his hand. His fingers reached your entrance and he pushed them inside of you, stroking your clit with his thumb as he did so.

You moaned into his mouth as you felt his tongue flicker against yours, eagerly kissing him back as he continued to explore you. You bit his lip and gripped his hair, pulling him closer as he groaned into the kiss.

You could feel your orgasm building again as he continued to thrust his fingers back and forth inside of you, his thumb moving in circles around your clit. His lips left yours and traveled down to your neck as he nibbled on it, pushing you over the edge in the process.

You felt a rush of pleasure as your release squirted out of you, coating Mark's hand as he eagerly lapped it up. His tongue darted down to your entrance, lapping up every drop of fluid as your orgasm subsided.

"That was so sexy," Mark said, lifting his head up to look at you. "But I think it's time to take it up a notch, babe."

You let out a moan of compliance as Mark let his fingers slide out from you. You watched in anticipation as he placed his hand on his crotch, undoing the button on his jeans with a quick flick of his fingers.

"Fuck me, Mark."

Mark teasingly shook his head, pulling his pants down. "Patience, baby. I still want to tie you up."

A shiver ran down your spine as you saw his lustful stare. He moved towards the bedposts and slowly wrapped your upper body with his extra ties. As Mark's gaze roamed over your body, you could feel heat radiating from him.

"Mm. Mm. Mm," he said, his tone full of lust. "You look so sexy like this."

"You don't look too bad yourself," you replied, admiring the sight of his tattooed physique.

He leaned forward, his lips inches from yours. "I want you so badly." he breathed, his eyes heavy with desire. "I can't wait to fill you up."

You felt your body react to his words, your core pulsing with need. Mark loomed over you, both hands resting on the sides of your head. His skin gently teased your wet clit.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked softly.

Your body tensed at the sensation of his lips against yours. "Yes."

With a wicked grin, he slowly plunged deep inside you, filling you completely.

"Oh, fuck..." he exclaimed, a soft moan escaping his lips.

The sensations were unlike anything you'd experienced before, and you could feel your walls tightening around him, milking him for every drop.

"Is this good?" Mark murmured against your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

Your response was incoherent mumbles.

Mark continued thrusting, his fingers clenching in your hair as he pinned you to the bed. The intense sensation quickly caused you to reach an almost unbearable level of arousal, your body throbbing in time with Mark's movements. He pulled out slightly, then plunged deeply inside you again, eliciting a muffled scream.

You felt yourself tightening up around him, trying to milk him even more, but you couldn't help it. You were so close. Mark's mouth found its way back to yours, kissing you passionately as he moved inside you.

"Baby...," Mark urged, pulling out even further. "If you keep on getting tighter, like this, I'm not gonna last."

His pace quickened, his breathing getting heavier as he neared his climax. He let go of your hair, bringing his hand to cup your face.

You felt him twitch inside of you, and the warmth of his release flooded your insides. Ecstasy-ridden cries left your lips as your own orgasm followed soon after.

"Fuck, you're so amazing," he groaned, burying his face into your neck. "I love you so much."

With his weight pressing down on top of you, you could barely breathe. Your heart pounded rapidly as if trying to escape your chest. You tried to relax and catch your breath, to regain some sense of composure. When you looked up, you found yourself gazing into Mark's intensely brown eyes, full of love and desire.

"I love you, too." You sighed, short of breath.

"Do you want to stop?" Mark whispered in your ear. "You seem tired."

"No, don't stop."

"I won't then."

Mark slowly pulled out and reached up to undo the ties around your arms and chest. "Sit up for me," he whispered, grabbing your hand restraints.

"Turn around for me, baby," He helped you to get on your knees, your arms behind your back, then positioned himself behind you. "Damn..." he exclaimed as he ran his hand over your hips and ass. "I wish you could see what I'm seeing right now."

He kissed down your back and began to softly massage your ass. His fingers occasionally trailed between your thighs, but he held himself back from touching you there. "Look at you..." he groaned softly. "I can see how much you want me just by looking. You're so beautiful."

Your heart ached at his words. "I do."

"How much?" he asked, pressing into you from behind. His erection rubbed against the wetness between your legs, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

"I've been thinking about this all night." You moaned.

"All night?"

He teased one finger into you and you gasped, rotating your hips so that he would push deeper inside. "Ohh," you groaned as a second finger joined the first.

"Ever since dinner." He thrust into you and you felt yourself tighten around him. The sensation only lasted a moment before Mark withdrew his fingers entirely. You whimpered. He smacked your ass before his fingers glided over your core. A soft moan escaped your lips as he slowly caressed it. He pulled back to spank you again before shoving further inside you. A whispered curse left his lips before smacking your skin once more and watching it tremble.

He gently grasped the front of your neck and pulled your head up off the bed. "Put your hands on the headboard for me, love. Keep your ass up high," he commanded. You obeyed, and he held your hips as he began to drill you deep and hard.

Your arms were bound, so you relied on your hips and lower back to support you. Your face and chest were pushed against the mattress, but you didn’t mind. The sensation of him thrusting into you had taken over your entire being. You locked eyes with him as he moved further and further in, hovering a mere inch from your back. When he brought one hand around to rub your clit, it sent shockwaves through your body. You bit into the sheets to silence a scream. You shook as the pleasure started to build within every fiber of your being - building, building until it felt like the whole world was crumbling around you.

"That's it," Mark breathed.

His hand reached forward again to find its way to your sensitive clit once more, and the sudden intensity caused you to cry out. Your heart raced and your mind spun wildly as your body seemed to be consumed in flames.

"Mark," you gasped, barely able to put any words together. "I'm gonna-"

"I got you, babe," he replied. "Let go."

Finally erupting in a blissful wave, your muscles tightened around him as if never wanting to let go. Mark's hand was still firmly held on your clit as he thrust into you one final time, his own orgasm overtaking him. As he squeezed your hip with both hands, his thrusts grew more erratic, until with one final thrust, he pushed himself as far inside you as he could.

You felt him tense up and let out a deep moan as he thrust one last time, his liquid love flowing into you. Your body shuddered as you felt his entire length throbbing inside you. You couldn't breathe, your body shaking with the intensity of the moment. He slowly pulled away from you, but before you could move, he held you tightly in his arms.

"Are you all right?" His voice was soft and gentle.

"Mmm hmm," was all you managed to reply.

He chuckled softly, his hands caressing your back. "Good. Me too."

Mark held you close, pulling you into him as he collapsed on the bed. His lips pressed lightly against your neck as he kissed your warm flesh. Everything about him felt comforting and intimate; his mouth was gentle, his movements slow and deliberate.

Finally, you opened your eyes and looked at him. His dark eyes stared back into yours as a gentle smile appeared on his face. His hair was a poofy mess sticking out this way and that, while a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead. He looked happy.

You smiled back at him with a racing heart; then said, "You were right."

"About what?" he asked.

"You are kinky," you replied with a grin.

He laughed heartily at your statement and the sound made you laugh too.

"Yes," he said with a playful smile, "but I think you liked it though; you couldn't help it."

"I loved it," you answered honestly, looking deep into his eyes.

He kissed you again, pressing his lips softly against yours as you kissed him back.

It felt like heaven.

~🐰♡

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