Marcus Moreno X Reader - Tumblr Posts

the masterlist | mudhornchronicles

DIN DJARIN | THE MANDALORIAN

that cantina

hands

uh oh

promise

check ups

festivals

reds: maroon | sanguine | brick 

MARCUS MORENO | WE CAN BE HEROES

suits | buckles

FRANKIE MORALES | TRIPLE FRONTIER

dreamboat: part one | part two | part three | part four |

JAVIER PEÑA | NARCOS

strategies

JACK ‘WHISKEY’ DANIELS | KINGSMAN: GC

teamwork

suits | marcus moreno

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

warning: flirtation everywhere and marcus is a little shit.

a/n: first marcus fic… he has the entirety of my heart.

masterlist

You take a sip of your coffee as you walk down the main corridor inside Heroics headquarters – balancing a second coffee and a file full of paperwork in the other hand. You hear the clatter of your heels against the marble floors which only makes you want to get to your destination quicker. Marcus gifted you the shoes for your anniversary and now you began to regret not wearing them around the house to break them in. You finally see your destination’s door when a certain little bundle of joy stops you in your tracks.

“Good morning, Missy. You look cute in that new jacket.”

Missy beams at you for noticing her new leather jacket her father begged to pick out.

“Good morning! Your shoes are cute, but I know you’re dying inside aren’t you?”

You nod and pout at the observant young lady. “Can you tell?”

“You’re walking faster than usual and you aren’t walking in that stride thing you do.”

“What stride thing?”

“You walk like you’re Beyoncé herself. You walk so confidently!”

You laugh and shake your head. You can’t believe Missy had the audacity to compare you to Beyoncé. How dare she insult the Queen like that! You’ve known Missy since she was a baby. You and Marcus were teammates when you both were still out of the field. When Missy’s mother passed away, you immediately jumped in to help Marcus raise her. You talked to her about private things she didn’t want to talk to her father about – periods, safe sex, and dating.

It didn’t take long for you to catch feelings for Marcus and vice versa. You decided you didn’t want to dance around the idea because you knew the way Marcus functioned. You noticed his lingering touches while the two of you hung out and the spontaneous compliments he directed your way no matter what you were doing. You both agreed to keep it hidden from Missy until Marcus could talk to her about him dating again.

It only took Missy two weeks to clock the blossoming relationship. While at dinner at Anita’s house, Missy took it upon herself to inform her grandmother about her father and her father’s best friend – at the dinner table. Marcus choked on his enchilada and you nearly spit out your drink. You knew that Missy was highly intelligent, but you both thought you were being sneaky! She had Wild Card hack into the HQ security cameras and she saw the two of you holding hands in his office. Now you’re thankful you and Marcus have never had sex in his office… that would’ve been really awkward.

“I do not walk like Beyoncé.”

“Whatever you say.” She laughs at that. She always liked to poke fun at you – especially after Marcus proposed. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a Kleenex. She grabs your coffee out of your hand and places the tissue and sets the coffee back on top. “You’re going to need that once you step into dad’s office.”

You look at her with utter confusion. “Why would I need a tissue? I’m just dropping off forms that need his signature. That’s what he gets for accepting the position of director.” Missy laughs and puts a hand on your shoulder and looks at you with a knowing look.

“You’ll need it to wipe your drool.” With that she lets out a loud laugh and walks towards Guppy who is waiting for her at the opposite side of the corridor. You walk into Marcus’ office and you jaw drops. You look at the Kleenex, mentally thanking Missy.

There Marcus was in a white button-down shirt – top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up with his glasses set aside on the desk . He wore a pair of brown and tan windowpane fitted dress pants that made his ass look fantastic. His leather jacket is slung on the grey couch with his beloved katanas framed right above it, well one of them. His brown shoes looked clean, but he looked exhausted. Hot, but exhausted. Missy knew you loved seeing her dad like this.

You walk over a gently put your coffees and paperwork down at the edge of his desk. Your poor fiancé has his head buried in his hands, so you decide to stand behind him and warp our arms around him. He turns to look behind him and smiles when he sees you.

“Hi baby.” He tilts his head up and purses his lips awaiting a kiss. You happily oblige and give a deep kiss. You swallow his groans as he swivels his chair. His hands dart to your hips and drags them down to your ass. He gives it a quick squeeze and pulls you so you straddle him on his chair.

You caress his face and give his cheek a quick kiss. “Is my poor baby tired? I haven’t seen you out this office all morning.”

“It’s about to be noon, my love.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been holed up in this office since 6:30am. You’ve been working too hard all week.” He shrugs and buries his face in your neck. He starts giving you wet kisses and works his way over to your throat. He kisses up to your jaw and bites your chin.

“I can’t wait for us to get married, you know that?” He looks at you with so much love in his eyes. You smile and squish his cheeks to give him a big kiss. He admires your engagement ring as he remembers the day he proposed with Missy’s help. He’s thankful that Missy supports him getting married again. He’d do anything for his daughter – even if that meant being alone. He would never put anyone above her, and you knew that. Of course it was never a problem because you also put Missy above everything and she doesn’t take advantage of that fact.

A knock on the glass door interrupted his thought. You immediately scramble off his lap and stand next to him as if nothing happened. His assistant pops her head in to remind her boss about his uniform fitting on the second floor in five minutes. You look at him and smirk. He knew that look anywhere.

“You have a uniform fitting?” He narrows his eyes and kisses the tip of your nose.

“I got over the way the my old tac vest looked on me. They decided it was best to have a new suit just in case.” You widen your eyes as you gently push him.

“What do you mean you don’t like the tactical vest!? I love that on you!” You pout as he laughs at you. He reaches for you and pulls you by your hips. He lowers his mouth to your ear.

“I’m not getting rid of it baby,” he whispers. “I’m getting a new design. One that looks more put together and has buckle clips on the front of it too.” With that he kisses your ear. He knows you liked the clips on the top of the vest – now you had more of them to play with.

He lets go of you, and walks over to grab his coffee you brought him. He begins to walk away, leaving you standing in his office. He looks back at you and holds his hand out to you.

“You comin’? I need someone to test out its durability. I have to make sure it won’t break when you yank it to get your way.” He winks at you and you walks over to him. “Oh by the way,” he says. “The security cameras had to get sent off to be fixed. Someone must have cut the wires.” You realize what he meant. There was only one katana on the wall. You let out a giggle and give him a shove. “You cheeky bastard.” He just puts an arm around your shoulders and walks to the elevator.

You wished you can get mad at him, but you just can resist – not when he looks good in both business and superhero suits.

buckles | marcus moreno

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT - touching, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), sneaky and unprotected sex, PinV penetration

a/n: part two of suits. it’s my first time writing smut so pls pls pls enjoy.

masterlist

suits | buckles

“Alright Marcus, you can take a look and see if you like it. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can alter it.” 

“Thanks, Tilly. It fits pretty well. Mind if I keep it on for a while? See how it moves?”

You smile hearing your fiancé suggest wanting to keep on the new suit. You knew exactly what was going to happen when you caught a glimpse of a glint of mischief that flashed in your fiancé’s eyes. You thank and big farewell to Tilly, the new design department’s intern, as she beams a smile in your direction and a shy wave. The girl was very sweet, but you didn’t miss the way she looked at Marcus. She harbored a crush for your Marcus, but you didn’t mind it - it was hard not to have a crush on Marcus. It was merely a schoolgirl crush.

You stand and glide over to Marcus and circle him as a vulture would circle his scavenged meal. You eyed him up and down as you let out a sigh. You drank the image in - Marcus in his new black tactical vest with silver buckles, black cargo pants and boots which you assumed were military combat boots. 

“You lose something or you like what you see?” You don’t need to look at his face to know he’s smirking. You can hear it. You simply nod and reach over to touch his chest.

“I do like what I see.” You gently touch one of the buckles on his shoulders and run your hand down to the new buckle adorning his waist; covering his pants zipper. You slip your fingers under the buckle and pull him closer to you. “I like it a lot.” You briefly look up and are met with his lips leaning in. You smile and attach your lips onto his - deepening the kiss. You let out a gasp mixed with a short goggle as Marcus pulls away while biting your lower lip in the process.

“We have about,” he says checking his watch, “15 minutes before Tilly comes back. Are you going to do something about all these buckles or are you going to stand there and watch me pull on them wishing it was you?”

“Pulling on the buckles or pulling on your cock?”

“Both.”

You smirk and slowly fall to your knees with your hands never leaving Marcus’ figure as you go down. You’re face to face with your lover’s intimate area and you can’t help but look up at him as you lick a long stride up his clothed pelvis. 

You watch as Marcus throws his head back as you take gentle bites at his prominent bulge print protruding from his cargo pants. “Babygirl, please don’t tease me right now.”

“I’m not, amor mio. You just have to be patient.” With that said, you slowly pull his zipper down and bring his pants down until it pooled around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his cock and watch as a bud of pre-cum seeps through his blue briefs. You let out a quiet moan at seeing him this hard for you. You and Marcus didn’t get to have much time to yourselves as the two of you worked full time and Missy was usually, if not always, around at least one of you. 

“15 minutes doesn’t call for patience, mi vida. It calls for hurry the fuck and suck on my cock.”

“Ooooh, aren’t you bossy.” You smirk up at him and give him a mock salute. “Yes, sir. Anything Mr. Moreno wants.” His briefs join his pants with you taking his thick cock in your right hand. You give him a pump, bringing out a deep groan run up his throat and slip out of his mouth. You give the tip of his throbbing cock a kitten lick before flattening your tongue out and taking him inside your mouth. 

His hands make their way to the crown of your head and reach for your hair, grabbing it all and styling a messy ponytail and holding it in one hand as the other cups your warming cheek. You direct your eyes up at your fiancé and allow his cock to go deeper down your throat as he opens his pleasure-filled eyes and smirks at you. 

“Aren’t you a vision with my cock in your mouth… I know you can go deeper than that, querida. I know you like choking on my cock, don’t you?” You nod and right when you are about to take him the deepest your throat would allow, he pulls himself out of your mouth and pulls you up by the forearms. He puts your arms behind your back and holds them there as he pushes your front against the cold wooden wall in the room pressing himself behind you. You push your ass back and into him and the two of you share a groan.

“Tell me what you want, amor. Tell me and it’s yours,” he says with arousal and frustration mixing in his rich voice so much more attractive than it already is. His soft lips and hot tongue attack your neck, dangerously close to that spot that makes you weak. 

“M-Marcus, I want you. F-Fuck I want you so bad.” He tuts and savagely sucks on that spot on your neck. 

“You have me. Is that ring not enough? What else do you want from me?”

Your head falls back as Marcus’ hand snakes down and hikes you dress skirt up and over your hips. You stifle out a moan while he brings his hand up, licks his index and middle fingers and you watch as they disappear under your panties. Marcus slips your panties to the side and plays with your lips. He lets his middle finger slip in between and you cry out his name as he presses against your clit. He covers your mouth with his other hand and you hold yourself up with your hands pressed against the wall in front of you. He continues to play with your clit while his cock lays against your ass, only giving you an added sense of pleasure. You reach a hand around and grab his cock and give it a few pumps.

“I- fuck, I want your cock. Fuck, I want your cock inside me.”

Marcus lets out a deep chuckle into your ear and chills run up your spine. He lets your panties fall, spreads your legs out and bends your upper half a little forward. You feel as he leans down and kisses the back of your thighs, leaving a trail of peppered kisses up to your lower back.

Marcus has always loved your lower back, not because it was close to your ass, but because your lower back was a sensitive place for you and his beard only made it better. Marcus left wet kisses and licked the stride following your spine.

As Marcus slowly pushes his way into you, you let out a sensual whine, making him slide out and right back in again. Marcus’ thrusts start out slow, wanting to hear the unholy sound of his cock being coated in your arousal. With you whining and grabbing onto his forearm around your waist for dear life, Marcus just can’t help picking up the pace. 

He flicks his wrist up to check the time and his grip on you tightens. “We got 10 minutes, baby. You think you can cum in 10?” 

You look back at him and nod. “Marcus, if you would fuck me harder it, fuck, it would take 5.”

He smirks and pushes deeper until he’s completely in, the next thrust being fast and tighter to you. Marcus loved seeing you come apart because of him. Whether it was with his fingers, mouth, or cock, he loved being the reason you went into euphoria. 

He played with your clit more and more as his thrusts got sloppier. Something about racing against the clock and the possibility of being caught by the intern turned him on. Your walls began to clench around him, telling him you were close. He smirked and gave your ass a hard slap. You moaned and looked back at him, lust filling your eyes.

“You close, baby?” He asks. You nod and give him a quiet whine as he kneaded your reddening ass. “Good. Are you going to be a good girl and cum all over my cock?” He tries to use his words to bring you closer to your climax, but it seems to be working on him as well - noticing his breath hitching and thrusts becoming more desperate. 

He tries to take control of his arousal, but as you finally reach your breaking point, he can’t help but you cum with you. You latch a hand to his forearm still around your waist and reach back to grab his other arm. His mouth spills your name in a breathy mix of moans and curses as he fills you with ropes of his cum.

You take a moment to catch your breath and turn around. You see him catching his own breath and wrapping his arms around you. He places a kiss on your forehead, you smiling at your lover. You watch as Marcus pulls up his pants and clicks his belt buckle closed. You go to grab your panties and are shocked, but not entirely, when Marcus grabs them and stuffs them in his pocket. 

“You’ll get these back at home, but i’m not done with you yet.” He gives you a deep kiss on your lips and leads you to the table littered with sample fabrics, scissors, and drawn up designs. He pushes the items to the opposite side of the table and helps up onto the surface. Marcus spreads your legs once more, sinks to his knees, and looks up through his dark eyelashes.

“I always clean up my messes, baby. You should know that by now,” and with that he goes to work. Your eyes roll back and your hands run through his hair, gripping it from the roots and giving it a tug. You feel pure ecstasy as you feel his hot tongue against your throbbing core. You speak a sinful moan as you hear him slurp the cocktail of both your pleasure-caused fluids. He uses his tongue to jackhammer into your sensitive core and you know you won’t be able to last long.

“M-Marcus. Baby… fuck. Yes, yes, yes.” You chant, legs beginning to shake and heart beginning to race. “Please don’t… fuckfuckfuck… don’t stop.” This only makes Marcus suck harder and lick faster. You wrap your legs around his neck and you tug his hair as you reach your climax.

Marcus gives one final suck as he gets back up. You grab him by the buckles on his chest and bring him closer. You pull his head down and give him a hazy kiss, being fucked out of your mind. As you pull back, you giggle when you see his beard have some of your shared juices. You reach up and wipe his beard. He grabs your hand and licks your wet palm, making you want him again.

He pulls your skirt down and smooths it out, making sure there’s no evidence of your activities. You give him a once over to make sure his new suit has no stains and no rips. You straighten yourselves out and as he turns in a circle to make sure everything is situated, you also really get to look at the new suit and decide you like it.

“Ya know… I’m actually quite fond of the new suit,” you say. “The buckles make you look more badass and the pants make your ass look great.”

“That’s what you said about the last suit. Are you sure it’s not just the buckles?” He smirks.

You shake your head and smile. “Nope. The buckles are a great addition, but it just looks better. It doesn’t look… cheap?”

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. “Cheap?! The last suit made me look like I had abs, thank you very much.” 

“Yes, but this suit makes you look more menacing. Well… only if you don’t smile. Your smile makes you adorable.”

He hugs you and hides his face in your neck. “I’m not adorable. I’m a katana-wielding superhero turned director who saves the world.”

You laugh at his demeanor and nod. “Yes, my love. But you’re also a loving father and soon-to-be husband who would do anything for his family. Which makes you even better than a superhero.” 

“Like fucking my fiancée at a suit fitting?”

“Fucking your fiancée until she doesn’t know where she is anymore at a suit fitting,” you correct. You both share a laugh and freeze as you hear a knock and the door open and see Tilly walk in with a binder and a smile.

“I’m back! How do you like the suit? I see you both look tired! Did you get to test out its durability?” Tilly asks.

“Yes,” you both say.

“I like it alot. No rips and breathes great when in the hardest situations.” Marcus says. You look over at him as he looks back with a wide grin on his face.

“That’s fantastic news! If you’re happy with it, you can sign this,” she says as she hands Marcus a couple of pages from her binder. “This just states that you liked the suit and accept it as the new replacement. We can get it washed up and stored to be pulled out when necessary.” 

He skims through the pages he’s seen multiple times and signs it. He hands it back to Tilly with a smile.

“I’m very happy with it, Tilly.” He looks over at you who is looking over the papers he signed. “I believe we both are, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You look at Marcus as he winks at you and you look back at Tilly. “Very happy. Great work, Tilly.”

Very happy, indeed.

taglist:

@mxndoscyarika​ @bitchin-beskar​

NO LYNN YOU’RE INCREDIBLE 😭

thank u sm 🥺

buckles | marcus moreno

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT - touching, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), sneaky and unprotected sex, PinV penetration

a/n: part two of suits. it’s my first time writing smut so pls pls pls enjoy.

masterlist

suits | buckles

“Alright Marcus, you can take a look and see if you like it. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can alter it.” 

“Thanks, Tilly. It fits pretty well. Mind if I keep it on for a while? See how it moves?”

You smile hearing your fiancé suggest wanting to keep on the new suit. You knew exactly what was going to happen when you caught a glimpse of a glint of mischief that flashed in your fiancé’s eyes. You thank and big farewell to Tilly, the new design department’s intern, as she beams a smile in your direction and a shy wave. The girl was very sweet, but you didn’t miss the way she looked at Marcus. She harbored a crush for your Marcus, but you didn’t mind it - it was hard not to have a crush on Marcus. It was merely a schoolgirl crush.

Keep reading

thank you sm 🥺❤️💜 my heart cannot take it 😭

buckles | marcus moreno

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT - touching, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), sneaky and unprotected sex, PinV penetration

a/n: part two of suits. it’s my first time writing smut so pls pls pls enjoy.

masterlist

suits | buckles

“Alright Marcus, you can take a look and see if you like it. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can alter it.” 

“Thanks, Tilly. It fits pretty well. Mind if I keep it on for a while? See how it moves?”

You smile hearing your fiancé suggest wanting to keep on the new suit. You knew exactly what was going to happen when you caught a glimpse of a glint of mischief that flashed in your fiancé’s eyes. You thank and big farewell to Tilly, the new design department’s intern, as she beams a smile in your direction and a shy wave. The girl was very sweet, but you didn’t miss the way she looked at Marcus. She harbored a crush for your Marcus, but you didn’t mind it - it was hard not to have a crush on Marcus. It was merely a schoolgirl crush.

Keep reading

OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH. 😭 I REALLY APPRECIATE YOUR COMMENT AND OTHER COMMENTS LIKE IT. 😭❤️

buckles | marcus moreno

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT - touching, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), sneaky and unprotected sex, PinV penetration

a/n: part two of suits. it’s my first time writing smut so pls pls pls enjoy.

masterlist

suits | buckles

“Alright Marcus, you can take a look and see if you like it. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can alter it.” 

“Thanks, Tilly. It fits pretty well. Mind if I keep it on for a while? See how it moves?”

You smile hearing your fiancé suggest wanting to keep on the new suit. You knew exactly what was going to happen when you caught a glimpse of a glint of mischief that flashed in your fiancé’s eyes. You thank and big farewell to Tilly, the new design department’s intern, as she beams a smile in your direction and a shy wave. The girl was very sweet, but you didn’t miss the way she looked at Marcus. She harbored a crush for your Marcus, but you didn’t mind it - it was hard not to have a crush on Marcus. It was merely a schoolgirl crush.

Keep reading

I neeeeed the date 😭 i have to see marcus be a sweating little nervous shit 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 love this so much 💜

Back to School Night

Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Word count: 746

Warnings: none really, fluff, mutual pining, romantic tension, Marcus is an adorable himbo, Missy is her dad’s wingwoman

Request from anon: “Marcus Moreno having a crush on Missys teacher I’m literally sweating over this dilf” (I’m so sorry this took so long I hope you see this!)

~

Marcus smoothed out his shirt as he checked out his look in the mirror one last time. Normally, he wouldn’t put so much effort into his appearance just for back-to-school night, but there was one person in particular he looked forward to seeing. “Missy, are you ready to go?” he called for his daughter as he grabbed his keys.

“You’re not gonna embarrass me again are you?” Missy bounced down the hallway to meet her father. 

Marcus pouted, “What do you mean ‘again?’”

“My teacher,” she clarified, “You barely finished your sentences” she put her hands on her hips as she gave him a pointed look, “You’re worse than a teenager!”

Keep reading

He could see it in your eyes, the way you looked at him. You’d bring him somewhere, and he’d let you. You’d crawl in his lap, and he’d let you. You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you, and he’d let himself devour you whole. He wouldn’t be strong enough to stop it. 

Help I love him already! So caring and full of yearning. 😭❤️❤️❤️

crash - part i [(ex)step-father!marcus moreno x f!reader]

chapter summary: Marcus Moreno has always been too generous for his own good. When his ex-stepdaughter calls, desperate for a place to live for just a few months while she gets settled at a new job, he can’t possibly turn her down. rating: M (for now) warnings: [angst, stepcest adjacent, alcohol use, very weird parental issues happening here, age gap (reader is 25 at the time of the story, Marcus is 50), Marcus calls reader lovebug, Missy does not exist, Marcus reflects on borderline inappropriate behavior while he was still reader’s step-father, sexual tension, mentions of Marcus’s deceased wife, Marcus is Catholic and full of guilt] wc: 2.7k a/n: please go to @ezrasbirdie-updates to be notified of updates! All my love and adoration to @mothandpidgeon for betaing, and to @swiftispunk for possibly being stepdaddy Marcus's biggest fan. This is mostly set up, but things are pretty juicy from the beginning. In part 2 things get…a little insane, actually, but just a gentle reminder: this is the definition of DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. This is a character from a children’s movie and I have done questionable things to his personality and morals. Do not read this and get mad about it. We good? Okay great, please enjoy!! masterlist | series masterlist | marcus moreno masterlist | part ii

“You could stay with Marcus.”

You look up from the drink you’d been savoring the dregs of and scrunch your nose. “Marcus? Your ex-husband Marcus?”

She scowls. “Don’t make that face, honey. You’ll get wrinkles.”

At twenty-five, you know better than to listen to your mother’s advice on anything, whether it be aging or a temporary living situation, but times are desperate and you’re running low on options. 

No one told you how difficult finding a job would be even with a master’s degree, and you can’t work retail forever if you want to move out of your mother’s house. When an office in San Antonio proper offered you an entry-level position with good pay, you’d jumped on it, not thinking about the two-hour commute

from the small town your mother had moved to after her divorce, and of which you were a temporary resident. After a month turned into a year, however, it felt a lot less temporary. 

You start your new job in three weeks. The mid-range, affordable, within-walking-distance-to-your-new-job with an in-unit washer and dryer apartment won’t be available for two more months. 

You are not giving up that apartment. 

Over the last few days, you’ve been frantically searching for a solution, eventually resigning yourself to traveling four hours a day until the apartment is ready. But this is an interesting idea, this Marcus thing. 

“What’s wrong with staying with Marcus?” she asks. “You always got along with him.”

The ice in her mojito melts like a film student’s first attempt at a timelapse, the condensation pouring rivulets down the side of the glass as the Texas heat penetrates the shade of her patio. It matches the sweat beading at your temple. You sigh and wipe it away as you consider the unexpected option—you wouldn’t mind unfettered access to that pool of his in this heat. 

“And you’d be okay with that?” you ask, incredulous. She laughs, swirling her pink squiggly straw. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The divorce had been—allegedly—an "amicable and mutual" decision, though you’ve always suspected it was more one-sided than your mother would ever admit. No one wants to be the heartless bitch who dumped Marcus Moreno, widower and leader of the Heroics. 

Rarely had you ever thought of him as your step-father. By the time they’d gotten married—papers signed and vows said in front of a judge under the sickly yellow lighting of City Hall one Friday morning in December—you’d already finished your first semester of college and turned nineteen. 

It was only a few days later, after your first Christmas with your new step-dad, that butterflies took residence in your gut and stayed there, fluttering in the most unruly manner every time Marcus smiled in your direction. You didn’t know what to make of these new feelings, or how to manage them, or if, perhaps, there was something wrong with you.

It wasn’t as if you could ask anyone else about it. 

Eventually, though, you managed to convince yourself that you weren’t used to positive feelings towards a father figure. Your brain had confused that paternal affection with a crush because it didn’t know what else to do.

Psych 101 was really paying off. 

Rationalizing made those feelings more bearable, and so you clung to your reasoning. You even let that affection grow and morph into something that felt like love after a while. 

Marcus was so sweet. 

At first you didn’t trust his whole thing, suspecting it was part of his superhero persona. He’d drop it eventually and become just another asshole your mother brought into your lives without so much as thinking about how you might feel. You paid him little mind in the beginning. Marcus Moreno was not the first long-term relationship she’d had since she divorced your deadbeat father, and you’d been sure he wouldn’t be the last. 

He was, however, the first one who wanted to marry her. Maybe that should’ve been a clue that he was just like that; that he cared for and protected his loved ones because he wanted to and not because he could get something out of it. Your mother was not the type to understand that mindset. She wanted something out of everyone. 

But Marcus? 

He made you dinner. He did your laundry. He taught you to drive. More than once you’d awoken to him carrying you up to your room after you’d fallen asleep on the couch, rubbing his thumb across your back. It felt like love; well-worn and soft like the old t-shirts of his you’d steal to sleep in.

You suppose your mother’s right—you’d always gotten along with Marcus. 

You shrug. “I don’t know,” you say. “Just seems weird is all. Would he be okay with it?” 

She laughs again. “Why wouldn’t he? It’s not like you’re still some party girl coming in and out all hours of the night.”

Party girl. You’d spent the last seven years of your life in libraries, nose stuck in books and research papers, up to your ears in presentations. You can’t even remember the last time you went to a party. “I was never a—”

She throws her hands up because despite starting the argument, she doesn’t want to finish it.

Of course. 

“Fine,” you sigh. Your own drink sits unfinished, the sips you’d managed to choke down curdling with the conversation.  “I’ll call him, I guess.”

It’s just for a few months, you tell yourself. Maybe less. And you haven’t seen him or talked to him in years. 

You’re long, long past those feelings. 

Marcus never could bring himself to delete your number from his phone. Just in case you needed him, he told himself, just in case you were in trouble. Your toothy smile and sparkling eyes are still the last thing he expects when his phone rings in the middle of the afternoon. 

Marcus talks to your mother a couple of times a year, but never for long. How’s the weather, how’s your mother, did you ever buy that new place? He should stop picking up the phone; it isn’t as though they have anything real to talk about, and their superficial back-and-forths always leave him with an ache in his chest. 

He’d really wanted that marriage to work.

It was meant to be his attempt at moving on; at finding love after the sudden death of his late wife. The ephemerality of the relationship made it feel like more of a betrayal, as if he’d cheated instead of moved on, and guilt still lingered around his decision to sign that little piece of paper.

Was she ever in love with him, really? Was he ever in love with her?

Marcus liked being married. He liked commitment, he liked being the person someone could lean on. He wanted to share that with someone again while he was still young enough to appreciate it all. Your mother was a good woman with good priorities—he’d thought, anyway. She certainly had priorities, but they didn't necessarily include him. After a while, it turned out that her independence he’d admired so much was more avoidance of any sort of close, emotional attachment. 

He convinced himself that was fine, though. He could adjust, he could keep trying. She wasn’t the only one who might need him. 

You might need him. 

He’d wanted a child. He and Elisa always planned for it, but one day, Elisa was gone. Thinking about having a baby with anyone but her felt wrong, just like doing everything else without her felt wrong. But you were here, and you’d been dealt the hand of an absentee father, and maybe he could fill some of that void. 

Or at least, he could be there for you, if you needed him. 

Sometimes, though, he found himself looking. Watching you in the pool, averting his gaze when you came inside dripping wet, your body covered by a brightly colored beach towel, a present waiting to be unwrapped. He told himself it meant nothing when his eyes drifted up and down your body—you were a beautiful young woman, and you weren’t really his daughter, and he was, superpowers aside, just a man. He’d never actually act on those thoughts. 

Until he taught you to drive.

Your mother never had time, your father couldn’t be bothered, and you were just riding the city bus and walking to your classes. A pretty young woman relying on public transportation and friends for rides didn’t sit right with him. 

So when you came home after your freshman year in college, he bought you a car under the condition that you get your license by the end of summer break. It wasn’t a nice car, but it was new enough that he wouldn’t need to worry about it stranding you on the side of the road in the middle of the night. He’d done everything he could to ignore the way your breasts pressed against him as you’d thrown yourself into his arms in a jubilant hug.

Marcus finally got to know you in empty parking lots and deserted back roads. It was his biggest mistake, buying that car. He learned your laugh and your dreams and some of your silly, secret guilty pleasures. He learned your favorite music and movies, your favorite color, what you wanted to do with your degree. He knew that you wished your parents were more attentive growing up, that you were glad he was nice to you and good to your mother. 

It was that last bit that sent him to a confessional week after week. Marcus wasn’t usually so religious, and he feared judgment so much he only ever referred to you as a “younger woman,” but he had to get it off his chest. Even if he kept his hands to himself, he felt like he was doing something wrong. 

It hardly helped. All the Acts of Contrition in the world couldn’t make this right. 

It wasn’t until he sat next to you in the DMV for your driver’s test that he lost a fraction of the control he’d held onto for long. You were bouncing your leg, too nervous to sit still, and he meant to squeeze your shoulder. That was all he meant to do. Squeeze your shoulder, reassure you that you’d do fine, but his hand went lower until he hit your bare thigh. He heard your breath hitch, your bouncing leg slowing to a stop as he ran his his hand up, up, up until it skimmed the hem of your shorts. 

“It’s all right, lovebug,” he’d said, and you smiled, leaning into his side and taking a calming breath as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, slamming his eyes shut and wondering just what the fuck he thought he was doing.

Marcus never let himself be alone with you again after that. It was too dangerous, whatever had crackled between the two of you in that fluorescent-lit government building, and he didn’t want to ruin everything. He’d already let it all go too far.

You’d tried to get him to come out on long drives again, but he knew what would happen if he did. He could see it in your eyes, the way you looked at him. You’d bring him somewhere, and he’d let you. You’d crawl in his lap, and he’d let you. You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you, and he’d let himself devour you whole. He wouldn’t be strong enough to stop it. 

So he’d refused, said he was too busy, ignoring the confused hurt in your eyes every time. The last time you’d asked, your voice had been small and pitiful, but still full of hope. Maybe this time.

“I go back to school next week,” you’d said. “I know you’re busy and all, but I thought maybe—since it’s been a while—”

“You don’t need me, lovebug, you’re doing great,” he’d said, his smile almost faltering as he watched your shoulders slump. But he’d done the right thing. You’d understand, eventually. He hoped.

“So, you want to come stay with me?” he asks after all the pleasantries are exchanged.

“Well, just for a little while. I understand if you can’t—I know you’re busy, but I’d stay out of your way and everything, and I’m totally more than happy to do all the chores or pay rent or whatever you—”

He interrupts you, guilty and greedy at the same time. You sound just like you did the last time you asked him to come on a drive with you. “You’re always welcome here, lovebug,” he says, the old nickname slipping out. 

“Really?” you ask, voice pitching high with excitement. “Oh, thank you so much, Marcus! Thank you!” 

He ignores the little flutter of pleasure in his chest as he hangs up. It’ll be nice to have someone in the house, that’s all. 

Marcus isn’t there when you arrive.  

You knew he wouldn’t be; he’s working late tonight. He gave you a four-digit code to get into the house—a new addition. The door used to take a regular old key when you lived here.

The house hasn’t changed much, though it’s a little more masculine in decoration. A lot of brown leather and muted grays, navy blues, olive greens. It’s clean and smells like fresh laundry, and you wonder how much time he spends here in this big house all by himself. 

At least, you think it’s all by himself. It occurs to you that you hadn’t asked if he was with anyone, but he probably would have told you if that was the case. Right? You strain your ears for any signs of life, but you’re met with nothing. Imagine running head first into some woman because Marcus forgot to mention he has a new wife.

The kitchen has some upgrades, too, stainless steel like your mother was always begging for. It gives you a petulant sense of satisfaction that he’d waited for her to leave. 

The fridge, you find out, is stocked with your favorite food. Or, well, your favorite foods from between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. You could do without Pizza Rolls nowadays, but it’s sweet of him to think of you. 

Of course he did, though. Still sweet. Still Marcus. 

It’s strange being back here. You moved around so much as a kid you never had any sense of home, but for some reason, the place you spent the least amount of time in feels the most like it.

You open the door to your old room and smile. He’d found bed linens in your favorite color. 

Despite that cozy warmth spreading through your chest, you can’t get too settled. Most of your belongings are in a storage unit across town, so it’s not like you have much to unload, but just the thought of having to re-pack all your clothes in a few weeks is exhausting. 

You spend the next hour waffling on what you’ll want to wear before resigning yourself to living out of your suitcase. You flop on the bed and put on some music. This mattress is much more comfortable than the one you have waiting in that storage unit. Maybe you can talk him into trading, you think, as you feel yourself drifting off.

When you wake up the room is dark, the only light streaming weakly through the windows. A figure leans over you, and for a split second, you panic at the hulking man at the foot of your bed. 

Marcus Moreno stands over you with an apologetic smile. 

“Hey, it’s just me, it’s just me,” he says quickly, flicking on the overhead light. You squint, groaning as your eyes adjust. “Sorry to scare you. I got dinner for us.”

He looks different.

And of course he looks different; it’d been a long time. That knowledge doesn’t make his appearance any less surprising—the salt and pepper in his hair and beard, new lines on his forehead and around his eyes. He’s also, somehow, more muscular, like he’s spent the last few years in the gym. His shoulders are taller and wider, biceps struggling against his t-shirt sleeves, forearms bulging as he reaches out to help you up and pull you into a long hug. 

“It’s so good to see you, lovebug,” he murmurs, holding you close like he’s missed you so, so much. “Marcus,” you murmur, face buried in his neck, and it all comes flooding back, like the last few years hadn’t even happened. He smells so good, like home, like safety, and you are, unfortunately, absolutely screwed.

dividers and support banner by @saradika-graphics

part ii

crash - part iii [(ex)step-father!marcus moreno x f!reader]

chapter summary: “Don’t you think I’m pretty?” you ask. His eyes snap to yours at the quaver in your voice. “Of course,” he insists. “Of course, lovebug.” “Then why don’t you want me?” “I do,” he protests, quick to soothe your doubt. He is a weak, pathetic man. “Why are you still fighting it?” rating: E warnings: step-cest adjacent, age gap (reader is 25, Marcus is 50), Marcus calls reader lovebug, daddy kink, manipulative reader, toxic relationship, rough/angry Marcus, jealousy, possessiveness, a little angst, thigh grinding, spanking, edging, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected PIV. it's not so bad i promise. wc: ~4k a/n: please go to @ezrasbirdie-updates to be notified of updates! For the last time, a reminder: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. This is a character from a children’s movie and I have done questionable things to his personality and morals. Now: well well well, here we are with part three. If you’re still around, big thanks for coming along on this weird little journey with me. I’ve really loved making sweet Marcus Moreno kind of an enormous perv and I’ve really REALLY loved writing this kind of reader. She’s very different from what I’m used to. As always thank you to @mothandpigeon for the beta, my beloved<3

masterlist | series masterlist | marcus moreno masterlist

Marcus isn’t avoiding you on purpose.

He’s not.

He’s definitely not volunteering to stay late to get all this paperwork done—it just needs to be done. Some weeks just have more wannabe supervillains than others. That’s what he tells himself, anyway—and you, when you confront him over it. 

“Is everything okay between us? I’m sorry about the other day,” you tell him one late night, twisting your fingers. “I made enchiladas. I know they’re not as good as your mom’s were.”

He smiles. You’d like his mother’s cooking as much as he had. 

“Thank you, lovebug,” he says. “Everything’s fine. I’ve just had a lot going on at work.”

It seems to placate you, but he feels a tug of guilt at the relief that spreads over your face.

“We’ll watch a movie or something together soon, okay?” he says. You open your mouth and close it. He should prod you, ask you what you want to say, but he turns away and leaves you in the kitchen in your little apron. 

Marcus is only honest with himself when he’s lying in bed, gazing in the direction of your bedroom door just across from his own. 

You scare him just as badly now as you had then. 

How could this possibly last? Because he wants it to last. If it happened—if he let it happen—he’d want to keep you. He wouldn't be able to let you go. Whatever he feels for you is different than what he’d felt for Elisa, for your mother, for anyone. It’s a dark, gaping maw of limerance only you can fill. 

He’s never wanted anything more than he wants you.  

You have a plan. 

It is the plan of a desperate, needy child, but it’s a plan. Marcus would see you one way or another, and if you need to force his eyes open, then you will. The sweet housewife thing isn’t working anymore. The rebellious teen girl strategy might, though. 

Richard is perfectly nice. He’s wealthy and handsome, slightly older than Marcus, but you have nothing in common with him. You’re not even sure how attracted you are to him, really. Lucky for both of you, Richard is a means to an end. He is the bay leaf in this wretched recipe you’d cooked up over a rusty cauldron, and it’s best if he thinks you’re just not that into him.

He’s a terribly bland bay leaf, unfortunately. 

You’ve been trying to keep your eyes open for an hour now. Richard is in finance. Richard has two teenage sons. Richard’s ex-wife had tried to take him for all he was worth, but he had great lawyers. Richard likes to watch golf. 

Golf.

You giggle and flirt, ask questions, anything you can think of to stall him until nine. 

“Well,” you say, taking a sip of wine. “This has been great, Richard, but I have a big project to start at work tomorrow. You know how it is.”

He smiles and gives you a roguish wink, and you dig your nails into your skin to keep from rolling your eyes. “I do, sweetheart,” he says, dragging his eyes over your body. “You’re an energetic young thing.”

Ugh. 

“I suppose I am,” you giggle. 

“Can I give you a ride home?”

This time, your smile is genuine. “I’d love that.”

It’s the first night Marcus has been home in over a week, you’re nowhere to be found. It’s late enough that he’s thinking about tracking you down himself. His job comes with certain perks. 

But just as he’s about to call in a favor, a car door slams outside. He hears you giggling, followed by the rumble of a male voice. That pulls him to his feet, all but running to the door to peek out of the darkened window. 

Marcus clenches his jaw, balling his hands into fists. Just who the hell is this with his arm around your waist? He’s way too fucking old for you. 

This man and his designer suit and BMW. This asshole. 

You’re in that tiny little dress that shows off your thighs—one wrong move and your ass is on display for everyone to see. Marcus’s blood bubbles under his skin, fingers itching to pull the fillings from this fucker’s teeth and make him bleed. 

“You didn’t have to walk me to the door.” Your voice is high and girlish, flirtatious in a way you’ve never been with Marcus. His fingers twitch as he reaches for the doorknob. 

“Of course I did,” the man says. “What kind of date would I be if I didn’t make sure you got home safe?”

Marcus bites his tongue so hard copper fills his mouth. He throws open the door, glaring at both of you. 

Your eyes widen like you’re fifteen and he’s caught you sneaking back in, but the expression is quickly masked with one of irritation. 

“Who’s this?” the man asks, after a beat.

“My step-dad,” you huff, rolling your eyes. The man sticks his hand out as if to introduce himself, but thinks better of it.

Good. 

“It’s late,” Marcus snaps, not looking at the other man.

“Whatever,” you say.

“I’ll, uh, get going,” the man says, leaning toward you—for a kiss or something else, Marcus doesn’t know, because you dodge it completely. 

“Bye!” you chirp, diving under Marcus’s arm, leaving the two men to look at each other. Your date cannot turn and run fast enough. 

Marcus slams the door, trying to calm himself before he talks to you. 

Well, that certainly got his attention. 

Now to see if this little gamble pays off. 

You can feel him right behind you. This energy is new. It makes you dizzy; makes all the little hairs on your arm stand up on end. 

Like you’ve broken something inside of him.

Your breathing quickens as he follows you into the kitchen. He doesn’t offer to make you anything to eat this time; instead, he folds his arms and stares at you from the doorway, his feet planted shoulder-width apart. You’re not leaving unless he wants you to. 

It’s hard to breathe.

“So,” he says, slow and measured. “Where’ve you been all night?”

You shrug, filling a glass of water in the sink. “Out.”

“In this little dress?” he asks. It’s the same one from before, the one he’d been worried about you being cold in. 

You turn around to face him, gulping your water fast enough that some spills down your chin and onto your neck. moving from the doorway to crowd you against the sink, eyes dropping to your tits and snapping back to meet your gaze. He’s close enough that you can smell him—his cologne and that faint tinge of iron that always hangs around him. 

“You liked it before. You don’t anymore?” you pout. “I even brought a little jacket.”

“Really shouldn’t be out so late. It isn’t safe,” he says.

“So it’s all about my safety?” you ask, smirking as you pull the jacket off. 

“I mean…I just know I wouldn’t want my daughter out so late. It’s not safe,” he says.

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not your daughter,” you say, inching closer to him. He doesn’t move; he doesn’t even breathe as you stop in front of him, inches from his face. You trail your fingers down his chest. “Isn’t it?” 

“Stop it,” he admonishes, clasping one big hand around your wrist. You can feel him stiffening in his pajama pants. 

“Why?”

“It’s not right, lovebug, you know that,” he says.

“But I know you want to, Marcus. You told me, remember? I know you’ve wanted to. And I’m even wearing something pretty,” you say, leaning close and letting your lips brush against his ear. “Just for you.”

It startles you when he pushes you back, rougher than necessary. “Go to bed.”

“Or what?” you hiss, wrenching your wrist from his grasp. Why won’t he just admit it? “You’ll bend me over your knee?”

You expect him to scoff, to stomp away, to tell you to shut up. But the next thing you know, you’re spread over his lap, face inches from a couch cushion, too shocked to protest. He’s never used his powers on you like that before, but he’s full of surprises tonight, putting that inhuman strength and speed to prove you wrong.

He grunts, rubbing his big palm over your backside in gentle circles. Your head’s fuzzy—is this happening? His big hand squeezes you, jarring you into the reality of yes, Marcus has you bent over his lap, pinned down with just one arm. The room is silent save for his heavy breathing and rustling fabric. 

“You think I won’t?” he murmurs. 

You can’t help yourself.

“You won’t even kiss me,” you goad, sounding more confident than you are. “Bet I know why you won’t fuck me. I bet you can’t get it up anymore—”

His hand comes down hard, and you yelp at the sting. 

Maybe you’ve pushed him too far.

“M-Marcus—” you protest, but he ignores you. 

“Think I won’t spank your ass raw? Hm? You come stay in my house—” 

Smack.

“Flirt with me—”

Smack.

“Put your little ass in my face—”

Smack. 

“Push me to the fucking edge—”

Smack. 

You don’t know if it feels good, if it hurts, all you know is you want more.

He hikes your dress up over your hips and pulls your panties down, sliding his knuckles between your lips, dripping with need. “Jesus,” he hisses, holding you against his lap. “Is this what you needed? Some discipline?”

You wiggle against him, grinding against his knee, unable to care how pathetic you might look. You need friction, you need relief, and you need it now.

“Stay still,” he grunts, squeezing your stinging skin. 

But you don’t want to stay still, and he’s a little too comfortable in his dominance for a man who won’t admit he wants you just as much as you want him. 

It’s fine, though; you can get that control back. Because you know Marcus Moreno. 

“Marcus,” you whine. “Pl-please—you’re hurting me.”

He freezes and shifts above you and all that tension dissolves as he pulls you up into his lap. He holds your face in his hands and wipes the tears from your cheeks. 

“God, baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, all that darkness gone in an instant. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking—are you okay?”

You sniffle, burying your face in his neck so he can’t see you smile. “Hurts,” you hiccup.

“I’m sorry, lovebug,” he says, gathering you in his arms. He’s frantic. “Let me—fuck, I’m sorry. What can I do? What do you need? I’m so sorry.”

You bask in his apology, nuzzling your head into his chest. Your ass does sting, but in a rather pleasant way. Right now, though, you think you could get him to do anything. 

You lean back to meet his gaze. His eyes are soft and round with concern. 

“Kiss it better?"

You’ve barreled through every last defense. It's all come crashing down, shattering into a million pieces. How much longer is he supposed to deny himself? Deny you? 

He’s lost that precarious high ground, falling to the bottom of the smoking ruins of his self-control. Marcus pets your hips, squeezing as you writhe slowly on top of him.    

He’s at a loss, stunned at your request and his own behavior. His palm burns with how hard he’d hit you. 

“Don’t you think I’m pretty?” you ask. His eyes snap to yours at the quaver in your voice.

“Of course,” he insists. “Of course, lovebug.”

“Then why don’t you want me?”

“I do,” he protests, quick to soothe your doubt.

He is a weak, pathetic man.

“Why are you still fighting it?” you ask. 

“I’m not—I can’t be someone who takes advantage of his step-daughter.”

“Not your step-daughter anymore,” you say, as though it makes it all better; as though you’ve found some moral loophole that doesn’t make this whole thing completely fucked. 

“You were a kid when we met,” he says shakily, reaching out to touch your face. 

“Hardly,” you scoff.

“I’m a good guy,” he says. His cock throbs underneath you. 

You tilt your head, lip curling in a smirk. It’s almost cruel. You open your mouth and he feels the venom pulsing in his veins before you say a word. 

“No,” you murmur. “Good guys don’t hold their step-daughters down and spank them until they cry, Marcus Moreno. They don’t need to protect anyone from themselves.”

His neck burns as you throw his words in his face, but he can’t argue. You’re right.

“You would be so good to me, though,” you whisper, your mouth almost touching his. “I’d appreciate you. I’d do anything for you, Marcus.”

It’s damningly easy to let his lips melt into yours. 

He can’t decide if he’s angry or ecstatic; if he loves you or if he hates himself; if it matters at all. 

He decides it doesn’t. 

The only thing Marcus cares about right now is giving you want and what he’s wanted for longer than he’ll ever be able to admit to himself.

“You want this?” he asks, pulling away from you. You whine at him, hands scrabbling against his chest to pull him back to you. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Marcus,” you breathe. “Please, please.”

You yelp as he stands, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding tight. He can hardly keep his lips away from you long enough to make it up the stairs and to his bedroom. 

You lean back on the bed when he sets you down and he stares at your tits, pressed together with your posture and begging for him to drag his tongue down the middle.

So he does, relishing in the gasp you let out. He squeezes them, maybe harder than he needs to, but you’ve tortured him so much these last few weeks. And you like it—he can tell by the way you arch into him, whimpering as he pulls your dress over your head and throws it aside. 

There’s no romance in the way he tears your bra and panties off—he’s too impatient now, nipping your skin and sucking your nipple into his mouth. 

He’s not sure he can stop himself now.

“Let me suck your cock,” you murmur. “Please.”

Has anyone ever asked him for anything that sweetly? 

He nods and leans against his pillows; lets you crawl over him and straddle his thigh as you pull his boxers down.

“Oh,” you sigh, running your fingertips over his cock. “It’s so…”

He knows, but he can’t help but grin at the way you look at it, like it’s some wonder to behold. 

He’s throbbing, precome leaking from his tip as you run your thumb over the back and wrap your hand around him with an experimental pump. Marcus groans, hips rutting up into your grip. “Fuck,” he groans. “Good, that’s so good.”

You preen at his praise. 

Your head dips and he grunts, trying to keep himself from thrusting into your hot, velvet mouth. His hands migrate to the back of your head, careful not to pull your head down. You take him deep and slow, head bobbing up and down in the silver light spilling from the windows. You’re angelic like this, whimpering with his cock in your mouth, pressing your little pussy into his thigh. 

“That’s it,” he says. “That’s my smart girl, rubbing yourself on me, lovebug, so smart. Make yourself feel good, baby.”

He’s not usually much of a talker, but every time he opens his mouth you keen, spurred on by his praise. You slurp around him, saliva dripping down his cock. 

Messy, nasty girl. 

Fuck, he’s close already.  

“Stop,” he orders. “You’ll make me come too soon.”

You move off of him obediently and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, hips still moving slowly into his thigh. 

“Stop,” he says, just to see how obedient you’ll be.

“Why?” you ask, with slow, measured rolls onto his thigh, your arousal dripping onto his skin. 

“Because I said so,” he says, his frustration growing as you continue to ignore him. 

“No,” you murmur. “Feels good.”

You’re on your back before you know what hits you. 

He shouldn’t use his powers on you—he knows that. It’s not fair at all. But you don’t listen, and he needs that advantage. You already have so much of it.

Marcus lays on his belly, spreading your lips with his thumbs and groaning at the mess. 

“You were close, huh?” he teases. 

“Yeah,” you whine. 

“Should’ve listened,” he says.

“Sorry, Marcus,” you sob. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t feel very sorry for you at all this time. 

Marcus is a little scarier than you thought he’d be. 

And that, you’ve decided, is absolutely fine. 

“I’m sorry,” you whine again, bucking slightly, but he dodges it. 

“Hold still,” he orders through clenched teeth, and you do. “Good.”

Marcus rewards you for it; licks a long, wide strip, firmly planting his tongue on your clit, unmoving. He stays there, hands planted on each of your soft thighs, fingers digging into your skin hard enough you’ll have to check for bruises later.

You’re shaking, waiting for him to do something, anything. “Marcus, please,” you whimper.

“Ask me again, baby,” he says. “Be nice.”

“Please, please eat my pussy.”

He starts and stops, over and over, pushing you to the brink and pulling you back every time. Tears leak heavily down the side of your face, but you never, ever want this to stop. No one’s ever wanted to give you this much or take this much away in the same breath. 

It feels like hours that he’s down there, sliding his tongue through your puffy folds and pressing his fingers into your cunt. You deserve this.

“You’re so mean,” you sob, after what feels like the dozenth time he’s yanked you from bliss. 

“Shh,” he says, caressing your leg. He looks up, dazed and drunk off you. “You know you could tell me to stop if you wanted.”

And that’s true. Deep down, you know that. 

He gives you mercy then, his tongue flicking against your clit until you seize up. “Please,” you beg again, and he doesn’t stop this time. He sucks your clit into his mouth as your legs shake and you come all over his nice sheets. 

Marcus barely lets you recover before he’s making room for himself between your legs. Sweat drips from his temple as he stares down at you. 

Permission.

“Hard,” you say, and that’s all he needs. 

The pace he sets is appropriate for a much younger man, but that, you think, is part of the appeal of fucking a superhero. His cock is splitting you open, and all you can think of is how much more you want. You want him so far inside of you you don’t forget what he feels like for days, but he’s still holding back.

“Harder,” you moan. “Please, harder.”

His twitches inside of you as you watch the last of his resolve shatter into pieces. He slams into you, groaning loudly at the wail you let out. Your hand snakes down your belly, eager to toy with your clit, but Marcus stops you, gathering your wrists in his hand and pressing them into the mattress.

“No,” he snarls. “I’m the only one making you come.”

You can’t help yourself. “I need it,” you pout. 

“You just had it, greedy little thing,” he breathes, steadily snapping his hips against you.

“Please,” you beg. You take a deep breath. “Please, daddy.”

He slows, only a fraction, but enough that it makes you hold your breath. You’ve wanted to say it for ages—it feels like the only thing you’ve ever wanted to call him, and you don’t care what that means or how it makes you look. 

“It’s okay, daddy,” you repeat, softer now. 

“Baby,” he says, but it comes out all strangled, like he’s trying to keep himself together. 

“You hear yourself?” Marcus groans, the squelch of your pussy filling the room as you drip onto his thighs. “Nasty little—fucking—girl—”

“But I’m your little girl, right?” you sob. He pulls your face to his, pressing sloppy kisses to your lips and murmuring “yes” over and over.

“You want daddy to make you come, baby?” he murmurs against you, slowing his movements. Something cracks in your chest; you gasp and writhe in his arms, desperate for him. 

“Please,” you beg. “Please, please, please, daddy, please, wanna come so bad, want you to make me come so bad—”

Marcus lets his hand drift to your pussy, slowing his movements to a grind. He circles your swollen clit with his thick fingers, cooing at every little noise you make. 

“Good girl, that’s right,” he says, and your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re quivering around him. He kisses your forehead, murmuring soft encouragement as a tear slips from your eyes. He wipes it away.

“Good girl, my good girl,” he says, kissing your temple. You give him a sleepy smile.

“Daddy,” you whisper, sated and relaxed. “Fuck me like you need to.”

He doesn’t answer—just slams into you again, fucking and fucking and fucking as you cry out underneath him. All you can do is hold on.

“Never felt anything this fucking good—so fucking tight—” he grunts. “Fuck, turn over.” 

He manhandles you himself until your ass is in the air, pussy fully on display. Marcus presses his face to you, licking up some of your juices and making you squirm before giving you a heavy smack on your still-sore ass. 

Then he’s back inside of you, anchoring you by your hips as he sets an unrelenting pace. “Daddy,” you moan as he brushes up against something that makes you see stars. “It’s too much, oh fuck—”

He moans your name as he comes inside of you. It’s like a dream. 

The room is quiet as he pulls out, a mixture of the two of you slipping down your thighs. You press your face into a pillow, unsure if you want to see him. It occurs to you now that you did not expect to want so much more of him. 

“Hang on a second,” he murmurs. You nod into the pillow. 

The bed frame creaks as he stands up, and you can hear the bathroom light click on, the sink running. Marcus clears his throat. You’re almost afraid to breathe, mortified at everything that had spilled from your mouth. 

You feel like a silly little girl. 

You’d had to beg him to fuck you. Why would he want more?

The bed dips with his weight, and he presses a warm washcloth against your pussy. He’s gentle, barely applying pressure. 

Marcus rolls you over and wipes the salt tracks from your cheeks with his thumbs. His presence is so calm and steady; you can’t help but hold your arms out to him. He obliges, settling his head between your breasts. 

“Everything okay?” he asks. 

“What now?”

Marcus looks up at you. “What do you mean?”

“For us. What now?”

He raises his eyebrows and sits up. You’ve never been this straightforward with him. 

Marcus cups your chin. “You want me to be your daddy, lovebug?”

You don’t know what that means, exactly, but you want it. You want him to care for you, keep you safe, make you feel wanted. You want him to love you the way you’d always wanted to be loved. You want him to fix everything that always feels so broken inside of you. You don’t care if it’s not fair, or if it’s wrong, or if it’ll burn every other relationship in your life down. You want him to do what he’s best at; you want him to save you. 

“Don’t leave me again,” you say.

“Never,” he says, and you have no choice but to believe him.

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sex headcanons

note — NSFW. whelp. if anyone wanted proof of me being clinically insane, this is what you could show them. not only has all of my free time been devoted to watching anything with pedro pascal in it, this is also what i think about while watching these anythings. i know there are people out there who have loved him for longer and are even more obsessed than i, so i figured i would share my personal headcanons for the PPCU (pedro pascal cinematic universe, duh). big love for any fans of pedrito - nat

MANDO

- VIRGIN with a capital V

- did you see how he reacted when grogu touched his face? this man has not been touched since he was a child

- he grew up with the mandalorians but he was exposed to suggestive behaviors because, helloooo, bounty hunter

- you have to coax him into it, but it doesn't take much, since he plans on keeping you around long term

- plus, you're so good with the kid

- you provide him a safe space to explore both himself and also your body and he has no idea how lucky he is for it

- doesn't make very much noise, but loves to listen to you

- he won't last long, he’s so sensitive from years of going untouched, but this man's recovery time???

- unparalleled

- he also has the dick of a space porn star and doesn't know it

- but seriously, rice purity score is NOT lower than 90, and most of the boxes he checks are "running-from-the-police" related

- he really wants to be held and have someone run their hands through his hair and kiss his neck and hold his hands is that too much to ask???

EZRA

- his words are where he gets you

- who knew dirty talk could sound so elegant??? and poetic??

- what a tease he is, too

- he pants so heavily right in your ear holy sweet lord

- and loves to laugh during sex

- he doesn't take himself super seriously unless he gets super into it, which has been known to happen from time to time

- safe words have been used between you two, which there's no shame in, but he's so good to you afterward

- he loves aftercare, and being gentle and sweet after a rough session

- asks you what you want and makes you beg for it

- makes you feel like you're in control but really, he's the one in control

- will make you cum before he does

- kinky kinky boy, almost always willing to try what you want him to

- loves to pin you down, but after he loses his arm it becomes a bit harder, so he settles for holding you flush against his chest as you squirm in his strong grip

FRANKIE

- a little soft spoken, but will whisper in your ear in public because he knows it gets you riled up

- will stare you down from across the room with bedroom eyes

- he's got that pilot's precision if you know what i mean aha

- he's honest with you about what he likes and has no qualms about telling you up front

- gives off switch energy, but you're gonna have to really make it worth his while if you want to fuck him

- a very gentle touch, which he would love to be reciprocated

- he aches from years in the service, his back, his knees, his shoulders

- would probably drop dead if you gave him a massage as foreplay

WHISKEY

- what an arrogant piece of shit

- "gorgeous, darlin', sweetheart, sugar"

- he will butter you up like a roll on thanksgiving goddamn

- so straightforward, and very up in your face, but it got you to sleep with him the first time you met him, so you can't say it doesn't work

- not the best with his fingers, but dear lord that tongue does wonders when he's not talking

- is a man on a mission to please you

- will spend an absurd amount of time between your thighs, and loves to feel you try to push him away when you get oversensitive

- loves it when you get feisty

- pull his hair, bite down a little harder than usual, push him down onto the bed or forcefully unbuckle his pants and this man will be putty in your hands

- is SO LOUD, and expects the same from you

- doesn't understand that because you're not screaming to the heavens doesn't mean he's doing a bad job

- associates volume with pleasure which isn't always the case

- that's something you'll have to work on with him, but he's a patient man

JAVIER PEÑA

- keeps condoms and lube on hand at almost all times

- ohhhh boy is this man willing to go at it wherever, whenever, you name it

- will fuck you until he sweats, and keeps going afterward

- and will definitely do you right

- he fucks to feel in control, so good luck trying to take control with this one

- almost tries to distance himself from you at first, but really it scares him that he cares so much

- there's just something about orgasming at the same time as you that just makes his whole week, and your hole weak (ahaha)

- likes to fuck you from behind and fuck you roughly, hands both occupied at the same time, mouth on you, and dick inside you

- very hands on, but can be sweet afterward

- this man kisses like no other you've ever kissed before, he leaves you breathless

MARCUS MORENO

- leads by example wink wink

- will show you what he wants done to him, and is pretty vanilla, but in a good way

- is big on foreplay and also aftercare, probably one of the sweeter ones on the list

- he's almost methodical in his sex, very routine, but willing to deviate for you

- gentle, but deep, languid strokes

- thinks he's quieter than he actually is

- always has a lot on his mind, so he really appreciates it when you can ease some of his tension

- secretly was really experimental in college

- very attentive to your needs and likes to tease

- morning sex is his thing. when he gets home from a long day, he wants to eat and relax and sleep. but in the morning? before anyone is up and before breakfast is even being considered, he likes to wake you up with sweet bruises and roaming hands

MARCUS PIKE

- marcus is the type of man to respect your boundaries fully, keep copies of toys he knows you like at his house, and surprise you at work with flowers and a dirty quickie in the bathroom because you've wanted to try it so badly

- a more traditional way of thinking on sex, and semi-reluctant to do anything involving his ass, but will try it for you if you really want him to

- a very quick learner, this one, and incredibly intuitive

- what he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm

- it's almost like he can read your mind, when he uses just the right amount of pressure and uses just the right motion to make you cum for him

- you have no idea how anyone could give this up, let alone break his heart

- his favorite thing is having you ride him, your face buried in his neck as you grind your hips down as he whispers praise in your ear

- marcus isn't super kinky, but i'm sure you can convince him to try something new every once in a while

MAX PHILLIPS

- OFFICE. DESK. SEX.

- "a private word with you in my office, please."

- so very seductive. the hand on the small of your back gets you going and he knows it, but he'll have to be more subtle if he wants to keep you

- another one who will butter you up to get you to sleep with him. he's very obvious about it, so it may or may not work first time. regardless he's up for a challenge

- pays so much attention to your neck. you will have to invest in many turtlenecks if you want to be with max

- big on eye contact, except for the exception of fucking you senseless over his desk

- obviously, a vampire, so he's absolutely magic between your thighs

- is very personable with everyone else, mainly because he's a business major, but he LOVES to make you jealous, this man LIVES off of it

- will one hundred percent expect you to be putty in his arms immediately, and treats it as a competition if you aren't

- he WILL take it personally and will make it a personal goal of his to get you to like him and want to fuck him without using his powers

- a game of cat and mouse

- does not care at all about being loud in the workplace, but he likes to see you struggle to keep quiet, even if everyone else can hear you anyway

MAXWELL LORD

- has suCH a praise kink wow

- his favorite thing is to hear you moan and tell him he’s doing a good job

- a little more vanilla than his counterparts but does like to take control and be a little rough

- a switch sometimes, falls into ruts where he just wants someone to take care of him

- but he WILL NOT ASK FOR IT. his pride won't let him

- at first, he’s not as mindful of you as you’d like him to be

- his sex is fast and unpleasant with hands everywhere and mouths and teeth and touch

- so you sit him down, and show him what you like. very slow and sensual

- you take your time with him, and he eventually starts to do the same with you

OBERYN MARTELL

- remember din's rice purity score? yeah, oberyn's is maybe ten. which is pushing it

- when you meet him, he knows what he likes, and is very particular about it

- he's done his fair share of experimenting, but he's willing to try new things, if there's anything new to be tried

- takes control inside and outside the bedroom

- not afraid to show you your place

- he's the kinky one in the relationship, and he will let you explore his body all you want

- if he doesn't like it he will kindly redirect you, his hands on yours, stroking and tugging and redirecting pressure and placement so that you learn his body in and out

- loves to watch you with his girls and boys. what an exhibitionist this man is

- for most people, they have to choose between quantity or quality in their sex lives. oberyn martell is not most people

- he is a prince, and will not let you forget it, but likes it when you talk back and he has to punish you

PERO TOVAR

- the roughest one on the list, but not the kinkiest

- sex to him when he's at his worst is just a way for him to feel good and relieve stress

- when he's at his best, it's a way for him to make you scream his name

- very possessive about what's his, and if he has to show it in front of everyone else for them to know that he will do it

- this man fucks like a rabbit. how does he find the time??? nobody knows

- his libido is so high. you have no idea how he isn't absolutely spent at the end of a long day of fighting and training and wandering, but he'll fuck you where you lay if you let him and you're too tired to move

- once you accidentally walked in on him stroking himself, and the AUDACITY OF HIM

- he smirked, groaned, and asked you to help him out

- who could resist a man like that

when he’s sick headcanons

note — can you tell i was in a francisco morales mood when i wrote this? also, i’m incredibly soft. i just wanna hold them :’( also also send me your  own headcanons!! i wanna hear ‘em!! big love <3 - nat

MANDO

- he doesn’t know how he survived all those bouts of sickness alone when you step in to help him for the first time

- his body aches, and not the usual after-bounty-capture either

- his head is foggy, he can feel the sweat in his helmet, and his breathing is hard

- he can’t tell if it’s coming through the modulator, but when you bring soup up to the cockpit for him, he knows you know

- he takes it gratefully, knowing that if there was nobody else here he would have just gone to bed to sleep it off, dinner vetoed for the night

- your cold fingers wrap around the back of his neck, moving his cape as you do so, and he melts into you

- he doesn’t know that he lets out the smallest whimper when you do this, and it makes you want to tear off his helmet, pull him into your arms, and hold him until he’s better

- but you can’t, so you settle for a hand on his neck, and the tilt of a helmet when he drinks the soup in front of you, as requested

- he definitely has a fever, and maker knows what else

- so you tell him to get some rest, that you’d watch the ship and get him if anything went wrong

- you supervise him down the ladder, just in case, which he finds funny and sweet

- you wish you could squish into his bunk with him, but you don’t want to invade on his personal space, especially while he’s hot and sick

- you you settle into the cockpit, the ship on cruise control, and you check on him every once in a while, keeping grogu occupied and quiet while he gets some well deserved rest

EZRA

- you knew he would get it

- right after you recovered from your illness, he started displaying symptoms of the same one you had just gotten over

- shortness of breath, fever, aches, lethargy

- he had taken such good care of you, so it was only fair that you’d do the same in return

- resources were sparse and quarters were cramped on the green, but you did what you could to make him as comfortable as possible

- his feverish back was pressed up against your chest in a cot designed for one after he’d stripped down to his underwear to avoid overheating

- he really enjoyed you being the big spoon sometimes, and now was one of those times

- when he got too hot from your shared body heat though, you would sit on the floor next to the cot and stroke right behind his ear to get him to fall asleep

- you made sure he ate as much as he could keep down, and you gave him all the fluids you could spare for his speedy recovery

- it broke your heart to see your usually verbose boy so quiet and in pain

- he muttered fever nonsense to no one and whimpered in his sleep

- you moved your cot directly next to his in order to keep a close eye on him

- but you knew that with time he would heal, and that as soon as he started talking to you again he was getting better

FRANKIE

- he sweats through the sheets next to you in the early hours of the night

- you’re the one who wakes up first, and you honestly thought one of you had wet the bed because of how much liquid there was

- but you realize that it’s frankie, back drenched and sweating out whatever flu he had acquired from whoever he had gotten it from

- you wake him from what seemed to be a not great dream anyway, and when he realizes what happened, he apologizes, groggy from sleep and illness

- “no, no! i’m not mad, frankie, you just can’t sleep in this sweetheart. you’ll get more sick. how are you feeling?”

- he curls up deeper under the covers and you get out of bed to kneel next to him

- your hands card through his matted, sweat soaked hair, and you wipe the drops from his jaw

- “do you want a cool shower, baby? you’re soaked.” you suggest, but frankie is so out of it

- he was fine last night, you remember

- sure he didn’t eat dinner, and went to bed early, but you thought maybe he had a late lunch and a long day

- now, helping him out of bed to the shower, you understand that it was early onset symptoms of whatever he was battling

- he pressed heavily to your side and you’re nervous as you strip him down and get him into the tub

- he sways, and you’re not sure what you’ll do if he passes out, or hits his head, so you sit him down, take off the shower head, make sure the water coming out is room temperature, and you run she showerhead over his overheating body

- you’re careful not to get any water in his face and ears, and you don’t wash his hair, just his body with a gentle soap

- you figure this is one of the only times frankie will let you take care of him like this, so you milk it for all it’s worth

- you blow dry his hair on a low setting, just in case he has a headache, you change the sheets of your bed, you lay him down on his side and you bring him close to your chest

- which is how he falls asleep for the next few nights until his illness eventually subsides

WHISKEY

- he curls up in your lap on the couch as soon as he gets home from work, which is how you know something’s wrong

- but you ask him anyway

- “i don’t feel so great, sugar,”

- which scares you, because did he get drugged? is this just a regular illness? is this like a biowarfare mission gone wrong?

- you leave him to get the thermometer, and when you come back, he’s got sad eyes looking up at you that just break your heart

- turns out, it’s not biowarfare. just a fever of 100.4

- you slip your hands up the back of his shirt and it’s so warm, along with his forehead

- he moans weakly at your touch, worn and tired from his extensive mission that day

- he’s definitely been overexerting himself

- as you settle back onto the couch, he settles into your lap again

- you let him rest for a while, but not after long, you realize he’s fallen asleep, and you’re stuck there for god knows how long

- you turn the volume down on the tv just in case, and you stroke behind his ears and you play with his fingers

- it’s best to just let him sleep it off, and you're not opposed to letting him do it on your lap

- you imagine there are statesman resources you can use to help him, but if he’s feeling better after he’s slept it off, then maybe you won’t need to misuse them

JAVIER PEÑA

- you scared the shit out of him, knocking on his door like that

- in your blinding rage, filled with thoughts like “how dare he take the day off to bang hookers, to recover from his hangover, to generally be a hindrance to the fucking DEA,” you had not pondered the possibility that THE javier peña, was sick

- he’s pulling on a t-shirt just as he opens the door, wearing pajama pants, and it startles you to see him so disarmed and casual

- his eyes and nose are red, his hair is disheveled, and he looks... exhausted

- “wow, you look like shit."

- “i feel like shit,” he says, walking away from the door, sniffling

- you take this as an invitation in, and close the door behind you

- he collapses back onto his couch, where you assume he’s been all day, and wraps himself up in a thick afghan blanket

- his hands shake the slightest bit as he opens his lighter to ignite his cigarette

- you take a seat next to him and help him with his lighter, and he nods his thanks to you

- “you’re gonna be late,” he mutters, taking the cigarette from his mouth and blowing out smoke into his apartment, coughing it out halfway

- “i’ll call out,” you offer, eyes wandering up his blanket clad body

- he closes his eyes and lets his head rest on the back of the couch

- “go in. i’m just gonna sleep it off anyway,”

- you lean in close to him and press your hand against his forehead and he freezes, staring at you

- you run your hand down his neck and feel his warmth, and he melts into your touch just a little bit

- you offer to only call out for a few hours to get him settled and make sure he doesn’t die or something, and he lets you, simply because he knows his illness will only get worse

- when your time is up and you have to go back to work, javi’s eaten, gotten some fluids in him, and taken some pain meds

- you let him know that he can call you if he needs anything, and before you even walk out the door is sleeping contently on the couch

MARCUS MORENO

- you find out he’s sick when he calls you, and asks for a favor

- “hey, can you do me the biggest favor ever?”

- he’s super congested. at first you think it might not be him because of how grainy his voice is

- “i hate to do this to you on such short notice, but would you be able to pick up missy? i’m not feeling too hot right now.”

- when you make it back to their home, it's very clear why he thought he wouldn't be able to make it

- he's curled up in bed, tissues piled on his nightstand, trying to get some sleep, but clearly failing

- he notices the two of you come in, and you quietly usher missy away to her own room to entertain herself while her dad tries to get some rest

- he thanks you for picking up missy, and you tell him you'd be there for him whenever he needed you to be

- you make a special phone call as you care for marcus, keeping his curtains closed and running your cool hands up and down his back and shoulders until he felt like he could fall asleep

- you let him know that you'll be right back, that you were going to pick up a few things for him and that if he needed anything at all, just call

- knowing your chicken noodle soup skills were rusty, your special phone call had been to marcus' mother's house, where she had tupperware containers full of soup waiting for you to pick up for him

- when you get back to his house with pain meds, gatorade, and the soup, marcus is passed out in bed

- you don't want to wake him up, but you have a hunch that he hasn't eaten all day, so you whisper his name softly and lightly shake him awake

- he's so grateful and only eats a portion of what he normally does, but anything is better than nothing

- and you don't want him feeling even more sick as a result

- you end up eating the incredibly nostalgic and rich soup with missy at the table and talk to her about your day while marcus gets some sleep

MARCUS PIKE

- it's only when you get home from work that you realize something's wrong with marcus

- he's asleep on the couch

- which would have been fine, if you had worked overtime, or had gotten out late, but it was only four thirty

- plus, you two had planned on going to see a movie you he was excited about tonight in theatres and maybe grab dinner after

- the tv plays lowly in the background, and he hasn’t changed out of his work clothes yet

- he startles when you close and lock the door, and rubs his temples, eyes squeezed shut in pain

- "marcus, are you okay?"

- "yeah, i'm fine." he tells you, and when you mention the date, he looks shocked that he forgot about it

- "oh my god, you're right. i can’t believe i forgot, i’m so sorry babe, i'll get ready right now."

- you tell him it's no biggie, but he insists

- after you've taken off your work clothes and showered quickly for your date, you realize the two of you are most definitely staying in

- he's promptly fallen back asleep on the couch, and he looks adorable

- you put on your pajamas and he does too, and you settle into the couch behind marcus, flipping through channels with him

- he says he doesn't care what you watch, as long as it's not too bright or loud

- so you choose some old black and white movie with the subtitles on

- normally you're the one between his legs, as he rubs your shoulders and plays with your hair

- but this time, he's curled up into you, his back pressed up against your chest, his head tucked into your shoulder using it as a pillow

- you figure you didn't really want to see the new movie anyway, and decide takeout and casablanca was a better way to spend your time with your sick boyfriend

MAX PHILLIPS

- a big baby

- but he IS a vampire and DOES NOT get sick, which slips your mind completely when you come home after some overtime and find him paler than usual on the couch, his head in his hands

- you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, and he refuses, but he caves when you sit down next to him and start stroking his head, and playing with the hair at the base of his neck

- he tells you that after the whole vampire fiasco with the company, he was set for a while, and has been feeling great, but he hasn’t had human blood in so long that it’s made him weak

- he gives you a sad puppy dog look, and you know he’s being an asshole about it, but you hate to see the dark circles under his eyes or the color his skin turns when he’s like this

- so you oblige, but you give him STRICT instructions to follow, otherwise you won’t do it again

- don’t take more than a pint, don’t leave unnecessary bruises, if you use your safe word he has to stop immediately, and he has to make it as quick and painless as he possibly can

- he nods enthusiastically, and pulls you into his lap

- he nuzzles into your neck, and grabs your chin, anchoring himself to you

- he blows softly on your skin, and presses hard kisses to the area to get your blood flowing and disarm you

- which isn’t fair because he knows your neck is so sensitive

- it’s a sharp prick when he ejects his fangs into your body and you stop moving completely, your hand fisting at his shirt, just listening to your breathing and his soft moans echoed against your skin

- out of habit your rub soothing circles into his back, more to sooth yourself then anything

- minutes pass, and you start to feel light headed and are about to tell him to stop when he pulls away, grinning ear to ear at you

- he’s back on your neck in seconds though, licking and sucking the leaking blood from the small holes he’s left in your skin

- now that, that feels much better than the bloodsucking that was going on originally

- you jump when he presses soft kisses to the sensitive area along your throat and dives a hand between your legs

- looks like someone’s feeling better already

MAX LORD

- tries to power through it as much as he can with pain killers and cough syrups, but after he almost passes out at dinner after a week of symptoms, you beg him to take at least a day off to recover

- that morning, his hair is a mess, he missed a button on his shirt, and his tie was uneven

- he was about to put on two different colored socks when he begrudgingly obliges

- you unbutton his shirt and help him take off his tie

- it’s easy to bring him back to bed after that, and you let him hold you from behind like a teddy bear, no matter how uncomfortable his arm is shoved under your neck

- usually he likes to be held, but he can feel his own back burning up, so he decides to hold you instead

- he whimpers in his sleep, plagued by fever dreams and his traumatic past

- so when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, something he so very rarely does, you’re concerned

- “i’m sorry, for waking you, i just... i just need... you... i want—“

- it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he needs a hug

- you hold him and rub his back until he falls back asleep again, in your arms

- when he wakes up with a killer headache, you fight to keep him in bed again, rubbing his temples and pressing kisses to his forehead

- he falls back asleep in less than five minutes

- needless to say, one more day off couldn’t hurt

OBERYN MARTELL

- it’s not often than he gets sick, surprisingly, considering how close he gets to so many different people

- when you arrive at his chambers that morning, the guards seem keen on not letting you in

- you argue with them, but they insist oberyn didn’t want anyone in there

- you call them out, obviously upset and visibly frustrated when his doors creak open and you see him, in a robe, hair messy and pressed down to his forehead

- he quietly tells the guard to let you in, and you’re a little confused

- he sits down on his bed and looks up at you with guilty eyes

- “apologies, my love, but I don't want you to see me like this”

- you scoff and roll your eyes at him, moving in front of him

- you take his head in your hands, and he stares up at you

- “apology accepted, but i’m offended, my prince.”

- he scrunches his eyebrows and presses his chin to your stomach

- you run your hands through his hair and he brings his hands to your waist

- “you think mere illness could keep me away? keep me away from you?”

- his confusion melts into a small smile, and he lets his head rest against your belly as you pull him into you

- “can i get you anything, oberyn? wine, medicine?”

- “no, my love. just you is enough for me.”

PERO TOVAR

- wants to be left alone for the most part

- grumpy in general, and it doesn't get better when he's sick

- he'll let you wipe a cool cloth over his forehead and neck, and doesn't complain

- he says he doesn’t want you there because he doesn’t want you to catch what he has

- you know, survival rates are low for things like this at this point in history

- but really, like oberyn, he doesn’t want you to see him weak

- he’s afraid it’ll ruin your image of him in your mind

- william asks you to get some rest, as they can’t afford to risk more days at the campsite with sick travelers

- so you oblige, keeping your distance from pero, but you stay vigilant

- you stand guard for him for most of the night, listening to him breathe, watching his chest rise and fall, until you eventually fall asleep too

- but you’re up early, with the rest of the men, except pero, who sleeps well into daylight

- the rest of them take off, desperate to find something for dinner, but you stay back with him, stroking his forehead, a gentleness that’s rarely ever been afforded to him, listening to him ramble half in english, half in spanish, but he has your full attention

- it would be a rough few days until he recovered, but his muttered thanks and appreciation for you was more than enough for you to do it all over again if he ever needed you to

when you sleep with him for the first time headcanons

note—it gets a little suggestive during oberyn's part, but nothing too crazy. i use sleep here in it's purest form by the way, so enjoy! let me know if you have any ideas for the next one! me and the boys are open to suggestions ;)

MANDO

- mando has always allowed you his bunk to sleep, whenever you like

- when you stayed with him on the razor crest and watched the kid, he was always more than willing to give it up anytime you needed sleep

- he didn't sleep much anyway, and usually your sleeping schedules didn't overlap

- but boba fett's ship doesn't have much space to begin with, let alone enough space for all of the crew mates he's happened to find recently

- which mean's you and mando, having already been living together and already know each other, were sleeping together, in the same small bunk, at the same time

- he offered to sleep on the floor, or pressed up against the wall

- but you got mad at him for even suggesting such a thing

- there was more than enough space for the two of you to sleep, you argued, though there was barely enough room for one

- it was comical, trying to press up against him, and find a spot comfortable enough for the both of you to lay

- it was jarring to you when he removed a single pauldron for you to rest your head on his clothed shoulder

- you felt like you had violated him in some way, seeing him just the lightest bit more bare than usual

- though you were slightly uncomfortable from the rest of the beskar pressing up into your body, you were lulled to sleep in minutes from the sound of his steady heartbeat

EZRA

- the cots had never been a long term solution

- that you knew

- so when the morning comes around, and your cot drops your ass on the floor, you wish you gotten new sleeping arrangements the last time you were in town

- you were just wishing it had taken longer for them to fall apart the way they had

- there wasn't much on the green, in terms of furnishing markets

- the cots had been the only barrier between you and the floor, and now, there was nothing protecting you from the frigid, uninsulated ground of your broken down ship

- it was ezra who offered up the idea: put one blanket down on the floor, and use the other one to cover the both of you with

- you took a second to ponder it, thinking of any idea, any reason that could be used to save you from having to sleep next to ezra, the man who had been so warm and kind to you, but you had frozen him out, because of your ridiculous crush on him

- you offered up the idea of just disassembling the cots and using the cloths as protection from the cold

- but this wiseass pulls out the cloth from the cot and his blanket and compares the two, and there's no way the cloth is going to have any integrity making contact with the ground

- so you agree, and when nightfall comes, you're too exhausted from harvesting all day to fight with him

- he puts his blanket down as protection, and you all but collapse on top of in

- ezra does you the service of tucking you in, before climbing in next to you, and you're soothed by his warmth

- not soothed enough that you fall asleep immediately, still unnerved by the idea of sleeping so close to him, hearing him breathe, feeling him move

- but he throws his good arm over your body and pulls you into him, muttering something about the cold

- and your heart melts just a little bit as you fall asleep, pressed up against his chest

FRANKIE

- frankie had been upset for weeks after his divorce, which was to be expected

- but everything had been so stressful on him, and you were getting worried for his mental health

- he hadn't been answering calls, he'd cancelled plans with you last minute, which is something he never did, and he hadn't been doing anything for himself, just living in a rut of paperwork, sleeping, eating, and going to work

- so when he calls you up to ask you to go camping with him, you obviously say yes

- it's almost a two hour drive to the campsite, and frankie is fairly quite, which isn't usual, but you get some good music going and some good conversation going, and soon enough, you and frankie are laughing and singing your heads off on your way there

- it's getting dark when you arrive, and you make quick work of getting everything out of his car when he realizes something is off

- "oh no" he exclaims, and you fear the worst

- "what? what's wrong?"

- "I brought the small tent."

- "how small is the small tent?"

- "i brought the four-person tent, not the ten person tent."

- "are you kidding frankie? i'm sure we'll fit in a four-person—“

- "i'm telling you, it's not as big as you think it is, trust me."

- when the tent is complete, four-person is an exaggeration

- it's a four-person tent if the four-people were sardine packed and the size of children

- it's going to be just enough room for both you and frankie to lie down in with your sleeping bags

- but that's for a later time, because frankie has marshmallows to roast and lots of things to tell you after he's been ignoring you for a whole week

- he apologizes and you sit next to him at the firepit on your site, and you listen to him talk, and give him advice, and rest your head on his shoulder

- and when it's late into the night and you two go to retreat to bed, you have to squish up against his broad shoulders that seem so much broader in the small tent

- and when he wakes with nightmares of his fighting buddies and far too many sleepless nights, he pulls you close to him, and falls asleep again, until the sunlight streams through the front flap of the tent far too early in the morning

WHISKEY

- that day’s mission was harsh

- it had you spent, not only physically, but mentally as well

- as you lie awake in your bed, you realize you’re not getting to sleep tonight, whether or not you had another important mission that morning

- the hotel bed was creaky and entirely not your bed from home and the air conditioner was broken so it was freezing

- you figure there’s no better time than the present, and you’re well aware whiskey is right next door

- if he’s awake, you’ll ask him to have a drink with you, and if he’s asleep, you can just hop into bed with him

- he’s a deep sleeper anyway

- you’re careful turning the knob into his room, just in case he’s asleep, and you spot him in his bed, on his side, breathing softly, room cloaked in darkness

- you come around on his side of the bed and you whisper his name

- he stirs a little

- you debate going back to your room and just toughing it out, but he doesn’t give you the chance

- he’s up, groggy and hair tousled and in just a plain t-shirt

- “sweetheart? what are you doin’ here? what’s goin’ on?”

- you tell him you didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, and he wipes the sleep from his eyes and squints at you, using only the moonlight to help him see

- “what kind of gentleman would i be if i refused you my bed?”

- this makes you smile, and he lifts the covers for you to get in with him

- you plant your head on his shoulder and drape an arm over his chest, cozying up to him as close as possible

- his hand rests comfortably on your back, and he breathes rhythmically

- and you’re silently grateful he doesn’t ask questions, just lets you curl up into his side ands lets you fall asleep with him there

JAVIER PEÑA

- it happened in a flurry of passion and kisses, hands roaming his body and yours after a far too close dance with death

- if it had not been for his bulletproof vest, he'd be lying in a hospital or a morgue

- but he wasn't

- his body was warm and so was yours and the ride to his apartment was far too quiet for your liking and his

- it was only appropriate you accompanied him for a drink after such a great victory for the DEA, but it had taken a toll on both of you, mentally

- you more so than him, which is why you ended up drinking much more than you normally would have when you drank with javi

- he tried to laugh away the stress, complaining about his sore and bruised ribs, but the room was still tense

- emotions ran rampant through your body, and when he brings it up, tears start to pool in your eyes at the thought seeing him for the last time, in a suit, at his own funeral he wouldn't attend if he had the choice

- he sets his drink down and pulls you into his arms, holding your waist and cupping the back of your neck, stroking behind your ear as he listens to you cry softly in his shoulder

- he reassures you he's fine, nothing happened to him, and you pull away from him, grab his face, and stare into his eyes

- he smiles kindly at your own red ringed eyes, irritated from crying, as you try to memorize each streak of brown in his own

- it's too much for the both of you, and you pull him into a kiss

- his mouth is surprisingly soft compared to your own drunk passion, and as much as he'd love to take you right then and there on his couch, he knows he'd regret it if you woke up the next morning and regretted it too

- so he entertains the kiss, not that he minds, and leads you to his bedroom

- where the silk sheets and heavy comforter that smell so strongly of javier peña pull you to sleep next to him, faster than you'd like to admit

MARCUS MORENO

- missy and your daughter had always gotten along very well

- you were very familiar with marcus, and could even call yourselves friends to an extent

- your daughters were very intelligent little girls, and knew that if they got the two of you talking when you came to pick your daughter from his house, they would have at least another hour to play while you two chatted endlessly about boring adult things

- for missy's birthday party, she had wanted all of her friends over for a huge sleepover, and of course her father caved

- he couldn't say no to her no matter how much he tried

- marcus, the genius he was, figured that if the kids were all under one roof having fun, why not let the adults have fun too?

- everyone was invited

- the kids would have lots of different fun activities to choose from, from swimming, to games in the backyard, and a movie night under the stars outside

- and the adults were welcome to stay, chat, drink, and play adult card games marcus had saved for special occasions

- the night of the sleepover, a dozen children and adults were packed into his backyard, watching some new movie he had rented the missy was excited about

- but it was freezing, and you hadn't expected to be outside for so long

- marcus realizes this and he leans over quietly, so not to disturb the movie

- "are you cold?"

- "oh! no, it's okay, i'll be fine—“ you try to excuse yourself, but he gets up without a word, and returns with a sweatshirt of his

- it fits snugly over your head, and completely eliminated the chill in your bones

- it doesn't take long for your eyes to start getting heavy, and soon enough, you're passed out on marcus' shoulder

- "what if we camp out here for the night?" he suggests, and the kids are more than excited

- the adults know what he's up to

- but they let him anyway

- it'll be great to tease him about later, and besides, you guys are adorable together

MARCUS PIKE

- working together with marcus was always a joy

- he was always very respectful and funny

- you knew he had his heart broken more than once in the past, so even though you dropped hints that you'd want something more with marcus, you let him take it at his own pace

- when you dropped by his place that night, with important new documents you had received right before you left work and chinese food, you're ecstatic when he lets you in

- you spend hours pouring over the documents, making sure every single detail was covered and examined, when you realize how tired you are, and how loud the rain is coming down outside his window

- "it's getting really late. i should leave," you say, but marcus stops you

- "you could always, y'know, stay the night if you wanted. i'd let you have my bed."

- you smiled at him, but politely decline, as you wouldn't want to kick him out of his bed, but you yawn again

- "look, you're exhausted, and it's pouring" he points out, "you know most accidents happen by people falling asleep behind the wheel when it's raining?"

- you laugh at him

- "you just made that up,"

- "i did, but you should stay. if you don't want to i totally understand, but you'd be missing out. my bed is really comfortable."

- "is that why you're always late to work?" you quip, and close the files

- he gasps in mock shock

- "that was one time, and my alarm didn't go off," he claims, smiling at you

- he lends you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and you pretend to not see a slight blush on his face when you walk out into his bedroom with them on

- marcus was right when he said his bed was really comfortable

- somehow, in the middle of the night, you two find each other, his face pressed into your shoulder, your arms wrapped around him, and the rain comes down even harder

MAX PHILLIPS

- "i just need some space from him, is all."

- that's all you had to tell him for max phillips to be on your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that all men suck anyway, you didn't need that jerk of a boyfriend to be happy

- well, now ex-boyfriend

- of course he had ulterior motives, and you knew this, but you didn’t care

- your heart wanted someone to watch movies with and eat a pint of ice cream out of the tub with you, and if max was the one who would do that, you’d settle with him for the night

- the way he pulled you into his arms, and pressed his body up against yours, was more than comforting

- he made funny jokes, tried tickling you, anything he could think of to get you to smile for him

- and for the most part, you did

- you were sick of your ex bringing the mood down the way he did, no matter how much you missed him

- the movie has gotten boring a long time ago, but you listened to max’s breathing, and felt his chest rise and fall behind you, and it was enough to lull you to sleep

- and he would’ve woken you up, to take you to his bed, but he was scared you’d leave to go home if he did

- so he took his couch throw, pulled it over the two of you, turned off the television, and settled back as you got comfortable on his chest

- this was a side of max phillips you’d never seen before, and you didn’t expect to see any time soon

- so you relished in it, and let sleep pull you in

MAXWELL LORD

- his head aches, and his eye is still bleeding on the plane back to washington d.c.

- the ride back is silent, save for the rumbling of the engine

- he rests his head against the wall of the airplane for most of the ride there, and you take comfort in knowing while he’s asleep, he’s not in pain

- when he starts getting restless, having what you think is a nightmare, you start holding his hand, stroking your thumb up and down his soft skin

- it takes him a minute, but he calms down, and you don’t let go of his hand

- with nothing to do but watch him sleep, you decide taking a nap too would be your best option

- which is when the plane hits a particularly rough patch of turbulence

- he bounces awake, nervous and alert, and you tell him it’s just the plane, everything’s fine

- when you pull him into your shoulder, he takes the opportunity to fall back asleep

- you can feel the tension in his neck just by having him rest his head on your shoulder

- you keep a firm grip on his hand, when your own eyes start to get heavy

- your head rests on his, and the rest of the ride there is smooth and painless

OBERYN MARTELL

- he had been pursuing you for quite some time

- as the second son of a king, he was more than accustomed to people saying yes to appease him

- he was forward with you, and you were forward back with him, and he liked that

- it was your words that told him you weren't looking for anything long term, that if he were to pleasure you, and you him, he would be nothing more than a simple one night stand

- boy did he prove you wrong

- your legs were so weak afterward, you couldn't bare to get up

- he took incredibly good care of you, squeezing your sore thighs and rubbing your aching muscles, pressing kisses up and down your back, brushing the hair out of your face

- it only increased your attraction to him when he brought in more people, caring for them and having them care for you, and by the time you had finished, you felt as though you couldn't physically go another round that night

- he purred in your ear that every night with him would be a night like this, and you whined back, making him grin and capture your mouth in a passionate kiss

- you didn't mean to fall sleep with him, but all the nibbling bites at your ear and the serotonin coursing through your veins had you spent for the night

- he let you sleep, and even stayed for a while before being summoned for an important meeting

- you made a mental note that eventually, you two would need to do that again, because you slept like a baby the whole night through

PERO TOVAR

- it's below freezing when you settle down for sleep that night

- no matter how much wind the tent tried to keep out, it just wasn't enough

- you're bundled up in all the clothes you had brought with you, the only blanket that could be spared, anything that could try to keep you warm, but nothing’s working

- the cold just bleeds through the blanket and your clothes, into your legs and chest and bones so that you can’t fall asleep if you tried

- you figure the only way you’ll be able to get any rest to be ready for the next day, is to go find a warmer place to sleep

- if the fire’s still going, you’ll rest there

- you shiver as you pick up your things, but your interrupted by tovar, who comes in with a thick fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders

- “where are you going?”

- “i was just going to sleep next to the fire,” you say, trying to keep the chill out of your voice

- “it’s going to be cold tonight. lay down.” he instructs, and you oblige

- he lays the blanket down over you and climbs underneath it next to you, so that your shoulders touch and watch him for a second before he turns over and tries to go to sleep without a word

- you pull the blanket up to your shoulders and you feel ten times warmer already, but it’s the heat from tovar that really entices you

- so you push back against him, your back against his, and fall asleep with the warmth of his muscles against yours

when you want him to choke you headcanons

note — NSFW. this bitch is kinky. obviously. lost of choking references, a little breathplay at the end there. all of the boys are willing in one way or another because pedro plays them, alright?? i believe in my heart that that man is kinky as hell. good morning and good night. happy superbowl. fuck you tom brady. big love to every one else besides tom brady <3

warnings: choking, penetrative sex, breathplay

MANDO

- is stunned

- you want him... to do what??

- excuse me??

- choke you?? like, with his hands??

- in the heat of the moment you guide his huge, bare hand to the softness of your throat

- he can feel the vibrations of your whimpers against the webbing of his hand and he almost blows his load right then and there

- the idea that he can wreck you like that gets him excited

- the first few times it gets his adrenaline pumping, but then he really starts to want to get closer to you, pull you in closer, fuck you on his lap in the cockpit while the baby naps in the pod

- he finds it interesting, all of these kinks, and never gets bored of them, but he's a simple man

- he's just glad you want to share these experiences with him and provide such a stable source of pleasure for him in his life that used to be so devoid of it

EZRA

- finds it quite hard to choke you with one hand, but willing to oblige you

- he's afraid of putting too much weight on your neck, so he refuses to do it in any position where he doesn't have much control

- but he ends up getting really into it

- he finds it so arousing, the dubious nature of it

- he likes the idea of being so in control of you, being able to control your breaths, your breathing

- he quite literally has your life in his hands, and it gets him rock hard

- he likes to control your moans, cut them off with his hand while you're riding him, pretending like you two have to be quiet

- will definitely ask you to let him do it again sometime

FRANKIE

- frankie is a little taken aback when you ask

- but you're so needy, mewling and whimpering underneath him

- he squeezes your jaw hard, and presses his mouth to it

- his husky voice reverberates against your nerves, and his lips move passionately across your skin before his hand moves to tilt your head up for better access

- it's like he can read your mind

- just the right pressure, just the right grasp, and can easily read when it starts to become uncomfortable

- he loves the way you anchor yourself to him by grabbing his wrist, pushing him in closer and pulling him back when it becomes too much

- communication is super important for him, so being able to gauge when he's getting too into it and what kinds of pressure you like are vital

- he loves the way you moan when he does it, so eventually, he's going to ask you to do it to him as well

WHISKEY

- a bit more vanilla than you'd expect from someone so forward, but is interested in this particular kink you have

- he'll trace the shell of your ear with his fingers, brush the side of your jaw, play with you lower lip, before cupping his hand lightly to your throat

- he likes to see how you fit so well in his hand, the way you gasp and shudder for him when he forces your chin up to look him in the eye

- the way his lip curls up when he realizes how smitten you are for him, the way he could tell you to do anything and you'd probably do it with the heat of his hand flush against your neck

- you have to show him how to do it properly, in order to not crush your windpipe, but he gets the hang of it swiftly enough

- is very possessive, and WILL allude to it in public

- he'll wrap his arm around your shoulders, and brush his fingers up against your neck

- he'll say you have something on your neck and go to wipe it away, his fingers splayed down the side of it

- he smiles when he sees your goosebumps, and you know you're in for it when you get home

JAVIER PEÑA

- he likes to kiss you with his hand wrapped around your neck

- to feel your heartbeat through your throat

- if it speeds up when he does it, he knows he's doing something right

- when he takes you from behind, he likes tugging on your hair, wrapping a hand securely around your throat so you know you're not going anywhere

- he really likes it, actually

- he loves the feeling of pressing you impossibly closer into him

- he likes to admire your beautiful throat, when your chest is pressed up against his and he's fucking up into you

- he'll grab your hair at the roots, and pull back on it, to wrap his fingers securely around the base of your throat, keeping you there

- his hands find every erogenous part of you they can, so to have one more spot he knows he can get you off with, that's all the more pleasure from javi

MARCUS MORENO

- he laughs mischievously when you ask him to do it

- he likes to get your blood rushing to all the hottest parts of you first

- he plants wet kisses to your neck, his nose pressing hard into your skin

- the way you heat up for him, and get so excited when he does it

- his free hand finds a way between your thighs and the other one curls around your throat

- it's great for when you're getting too loud and he's afraid you'll wake missy or alert the neighbors, even

- he loves listening to you pant heavily after you're done

- he also loves feeling you dig your nails into his back when you orgasm and his hand is wrapped around your throat

- those scratches aren't terribly difficult to hide, and the idea that you've marked him up as yours is reward enough for indulging in your requests

MARCUS PIKE

- will be the most reluctant, as nobody has ever asked this of him before

- he's scared of hurting you, but you seem to get really into it

- he's in awe of you when you push his hand harder and harder into your neck, moaning and whimpering soft and broken from underneath his grip

- he's not actually the one in charge here, but with his hand wrapped around your windpipe, her certainly feels like he is

- he doesn't want to leave bruises, and definitely checks up on you after the sex or the make out session

- you tell him that he doesn't have to worry as much, but that doesn't give him peace of mind

- it's only when you gently introduce him to the receiving end of it does he understand

- he doesn't like it as much as when you're writing and moaning underneath him, but he figures that if you like it, and he's really not hurting you, he doesn't mind you wrapping his fingers around your neck sometimes

MAX PHILLIPS

- max has always loved your neck, nipping at it, leaving hickeys, pressing his fingers into the pliable skin there

- so when you beg him to choke you, to force all the air out of your chest, to wrap his long fingers around your throat

- he doesn't need to be told twice

- he loves it so much, he starts doing it without needing to be asked

- he presses you up against a wall, or pins you to the bed, and squeezes just enough for you to just barely be able to breathe

- he fucks hard when he chokes you

- you swear you almost pass out when he does it, but he allows you to pull his hands back if he's getting too rough

- he likes to feel your hands wrapped around his throat too, mainly because he doesn't need to breathe, so seeing you fall apart on top of him, seeing your hands wrapped around such a delicate piece of him, squeezing as hard as you can as you ride out your orgasm

- he loves nothing more than orgasms, necks, and good business. and two out of three isn't bad

MAXWELL LORD

- he frames your face with his hands, thumbs tracing your cheeks, and you almost melt at his soft touch

- maxwell is usually quite eager, but gentle in the best ways

- the best part about when he chokes you and fucks you at the same time, is that he subconsciously squeezes in time with each of his thrusts

- his arm frames your head and his face is so close you yours and you just can't help trying to moan around his hand

- he loves loves loves hearing you moan, so usually he'll let up to allow them to escape your mouth

- but then he's right back on it, because he knows that the more he does it, the closer you'll get, and the louder you'll be

- his rings dig marks into your neck, but you love the cold contrast to the warmth of his fingers

OBERYN MARTELL

- will most definitely choke you if you ask him to

- he likes to have you demonstrate for him just exactly how you like it

- your breath hinges in your throat when he takes your hand in his, and presses it underneath his jaw, right above his adams apple

- and you press into his neck and his eyes narrow before he take you and pushes you down onto whatever surface is closest so he can fuck you

- he lights a fire in your core that's impossible to extinguish without him

- he likes to come up from behind you, wrap his hand around your throat, and shove his hand into your pants or up your dress or around whatever you're wearing

- and he loves to feel you push back against him when he does it

- he knows he's got you right where he wants you in that case

- his fingers flex around your throat and he tries to cover as much area at once

- he believes in allowing you to be as loud as you want, since he wants all of dorne to know how good of a lover he is

- but if his fingers are wrapped around your throat, he doesn't mind swallowing all of your moans in a kiss

PERO TOVAR

- tries to choke you out with two hands at first

- you really gotta slow him down and show him the ropes

- sometimes he gets excited about it, other times he's less enthusiastic

- but he loves pleasing you, deep down inside that cold heart of his

- which is why he obliges the request

- once he gets the hang of it, its over for you bitches

- he's up in your ear, panting and whispering dirty things, downright filthy things

- and he squeezes your neck tightly, his fingers wrapped snugly around your throat

- you swear his one hand almost wraps the entire way around, his fingers are so long

- he prefers fast and dirty sex, so this kind of kink is right up his alley

- especially because of how rough he can be with you

- when you two get close, he starts squeezing tighter and tighter, until you almost cant breathe, and your release, when he finally lets go, is one of the best orgasms you've ever had

- which is how pero accidentally discovers his breathplay kink