#i was thinking marcus pike needs to be in on this

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 16

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Tooth-decaying sweetness, talk of pregnancy/impregnation, fleeting mention of everyone's least favorite Pike cousin. Summary: A bridal shower, a night out, and an evening babysitting that all have surprises of their own. Notes: Happy pride month, Pedro Nation! We're edging closer to the end of this story at a brisk pace. Just a few more chapters before the epilogue 🧡✨

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15

"Birdie, stop." The stern but loving words are an order as Sydney places both of her hands on your shoulders and demonstrates a slow, steady breath for you for the second time today. "Amelia and Sean have the whole party under control. Your wedding planner has done an immaculate job planning this bridal shower and my sous chef knows this menu like the back of his hand." Her thumbs press gently into your bare shoulders, the edges of your Jackie Kennedy-esque pastel 60s shift dress not quite covering your shoulders and making you feel much cooler on this hot July afternoon. You're both wearing white gloves, completing the ensembles you've chosen, but at this moment you're much less worried about propriety than other things. "It's going to be fun, you just have to chill out."

"I know." The closer the wedding gets the more anxious you get about absolutely everything, and you take a deep breath because Sydney is completely right. You need it. "Is it dumb to wish Marcus was here? I'm so jealous that the guys are all at a Nationals game today."

“I’m jealous too, but I also know that Marcus and Juan would love nothing more than to be right here.” She reminds you with a grin. “Firmly inserted up our asses, which is where they like to stay.”

"Only because you told Juan you wanted to wait for another baby," you snort under your breath, shaking your head at your best friend. "I think I just want everybody here and for things to be underway. Bridal showers can be brutally boring and I just don't want today to be like that for anyone."

“I didn’t mean like that.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and grinning at you. “Do you honestly think your bridal shower is going to be boring?” She asks, stepping back and gesturing to your outfits. “We are dressed up as famous women that have made significant contributions to our society, we are having our now famous tea service, and we have booze.”

It's true to say that this is not anyone's average bridal shower. The Famous Women of History theme had gone over wonderfully with guests and the tea service now being run each and every weekend by the inn has been written up in multiple publications all over the country. Even if you only had those two things going for you, you would be miles ahead of other parties. You soften into a smile, bolstered by her confidence. "Your Julia Child costume is immaculate, by the way."

Sydney immediately adopts the characteristic accent that Julia was so well known for. “Of course!” She agrees, grinning. “Who would not want to be me?”

Accents have never been your forte, but you aim for something vaguely Transatlantic and fall comically short when you reply: “No one I can think of, darling.”

Sputtering out a laugh, she grabs your hand. “Come on Jackie.” She teases. “We’ve got a party to go to.”

The gallery hall that has been rented for the party is stunning. Paintings hang immaculately on the wall and a baby grand piano sits at the ready, while small table for four or six guests each dot the area facing a larger, longer table. The pastel color palette is perfect, welcoming without being babyish, and you soften a little to look around and see flower petals sprinkled artfully over each table, brightening up the place settings and name cards. “No centerpieces, so we have room for the tea towers,” you hum, checking out each table. “It’s perfect, Syd.”

“I thought you would like that, letting the food decorate.” She beams at the compliment but she is more excited to celebrate you.

“I absolutely love it.” Simple and classy, that’s what the decor is, and you give your best friend a squeezing hug as people start to arrive.

The group is a mixture of family and friends. Everyone from Marcus’s side comes out, with the exception of one, which no one misses Hannah here if they were pressed for an opinion. The mood is festive and despite the invitation saying presents aren’t necessary, no one comes empty handed.

Your own side of the invitation list is a tad smaller, but no less enthusiastic. The girls from game night are all dressed as famous authors, including Sydney’s sister AnnaLeigh as Mary Shelley with a big heart necklace, and Selena is wearing a Rockford Peaches uniform for all the women baseball players she idolized growing up. Even Sydney and AnnaLeigh’s mother has come in from Philadelphia, dressed as Marie Curie with glowing jewelry to bring in the ‘radiation’ aspect.

It’s a given fact that your mother will always arrive last to any gathering, but she makes a hell of a splash arriving in her Votes for Women sash and the costume that she has worn for every Halloween party for your entire life. "Alice Paul." You laugh when she comes over to give you a tight hug. "I almost thought you might go for something else but it has to be Alice Paul. But I see you've gotten a new hat. It's perfect."

“Of course.” She snorts, grinning at you. “How could it be anything else? Birdie, this looks amazing.” She gushes. “Your bridal shower is gorgeous.”

"We said no gifts," you laugh half-heartedly, seeing the boxes and bags and assorted packages on the table by the door to the gallery. "I mean we knew most people wouldn't listen, but really it's so sweet of everyone."

“Honey, people are so happy for you and Marcus.” Your mother reminds you with a soft smile and a hug around your waist. “I’m sure that they just want you to know how loved you are.”

"We're very lucky." That is the least of it, but of course you're very lucky. Having the love of your life is about the luckiest thing you could possibly ask for in the world. Today is the icing on the proverbial tea cake, as far as you're concerned. But it's wonderful to get to see all the ladies of your family. "If you like what's been set up, then you should make Amelia Sharma your official event planner," you tell your mother, before seeing your sister spinning around the room like a whirlwind. "I think Junie likes it, too."

She hums as she looks over at your younger sister. “Is she— Jane Goodall?” She frowns slightly as she tries to understand the costume that she is wearing.

"Of course she is." It doesn't surprise you one bit, and you offer your mother a cheeky grin. "Her childhood hero. I would expect nothing less of Junebug."

“There was a time that your sister insisted that we adopt a gorilla.” Your mother snorts. “So I don’t doubt that at all.”

"Do you know why she stopped asking?" The smirk on your face is unapologetic, but considering you were not more than eleven or twelve at the time your baby sister insisted on wanting a gorilla for a sibling, you think it was still a clever comeback. "I told her we already had Alex."

Your mother rolls her eyes and sighs. “That’s why?” She huffs. “You always liked to try to rock the boat.” It’s an affectionate chiding and she is grinning while she delivers the chastisement.

"It only took her her entire childhood to be able to have a pet," you tease back. "Are you even the least bit surprised she named the rescue puppy Koko?"

“Not in the least.” Your mother admits with a wistful smile. “Just like I know Koko will go with Junie when she moves out.”

“All three of your kids have their soulmates, Ma.” You nudge her affectionately, and the warm and proud smile on her face grows with the reminder. “You might have a quiet White House next term if we all end up settled down and domestic.”

“All I’ve ever wanted was for the three of you to find your happiness.” She takes your hand and squeezes it. “My dreams and goals have never been any of yours, your paths are different from mine.”

“And we appreciate the fact that you recognize that. More than you could possibly know.” It would be easy for her to be blind to it, after all. Or to find the three of you unambitious because you don’t have goals as lofty as hers. But a small business owner, a future lawyer, and a future veterinarian are nothing to sniff at. You squeeze her hand back and tilt your head toward the other side of the room. “Come on, Mom. I sat you with Donna and with Syd’s mother. The Mom Table.”

“The Mom Table.” She hums. “I appreciate that. Donna and I have fabulous conversations.”

“It’s such a relief that you guys get along.” Of any two mothers in the world, you know your own mother and your future mother-in-law feel very strongly about wanting the best for their kids, so you’re glad they agree on what the definition of best is.

“I couldn’t imagine a world where we didn’t get along, to be honest.” Your mother admits. “I have been giving serious thought to having Donna appointed to a member of my cabinet.”

After staring at her for a few seconds you just blow a raspberry and shrug, letting out a small laugh. “I honestly can’t even tell if you’re joking.”

She frowns for a moment. “Why would I be joking?” She asks. “I don’t think that she accept Surgeon General, since we have a fantastic doctor in that role, but I think that she would be amazing at guiding our country forward through the mental health crisis that is emerging.”

You gape slightly, mouth open, and shut it again twice more like a fish before trying to talk again. “So you’re going to create a government position for a mental health professional alongside the Surgeon General…and offer it to Donna Pike?”

“Mental health is linked to physical health.” She has been considering this a lot and it’s the first time she’s mentioned it outside of her private office. “I think a practicing therapist and doctorate of physiology would understand the shortcomings of our current healthcare system and help put protocols in place to improve our mental health as a nation.”

“In no way do you need to convince me of the ongoing mental healthcare crisis in this country. I see my therapist every two weeks like clockwork.” Stopping in your tracks, you level your mother with a serious expression. “I think it’s a fantastic idea. Regardless of whether or not you appoint Donna, mental health needs to be made a more important conversation.”

“Absolutely.” She nods. “Would you mind if I broached the subject with her? Nothing would interfere with your wedding, or any wedding related activities.”

"Not at all." She doesn't need your blessing but it's nice of her to ask for it. "Why don't you guys have a walk around the gallery after tea? Talk all you like."

“After the party.” She won’t take away from this time for anything in the world, but your approval was important to her.

"In that case?" When you reach the table you show her which seat is hers and gladly accept another hug. "She's going to be in town all week. I bet she'd love some sweet tea on the White House lawn."

“I’ll have to have her put on my schedule then.” She shoots you a wink and sits down so you can focus your attention to other guests. “Go, mingle.”

There are a whole lot of people to mingle with. That was part of the point, of course, and getting to see more of the Pike family for the first time since April is a welcome occasion. When you eventually get to sit down at your table, it's a sigh of relief to be with your closest friends.

Champagne is distributed, although this isn’t supposed to be a boozy event. It is however a historical nod towards gilded age. The sous chef that is in charge of the menu starts to have the staff bring out the tiered tea service trays.

"So." When the tray for the six of you goes in the middle of the table between you, Sydney, Selena, AnnaLeigh, June, and Issy, you narrow your eyes at all of them. "When do I get to actually know something about my bachelorette party?"

“Nope.” Selena pops back, a grin on her face as she takes a demure sip of her drink. “Just that you are going to love it.”

"A hint?" You beg, trying to look suitably pathetic for your friends. You know it will be great, whatever they have planned, and you do love surprises. But they have been remarkably good at keeping this under their hats. "Are we talking a day? A night? Travel? Doing something at home?"

“It’s going to be fun.” Junie supplies unhelpfully with a knowing smirk. She knows how much you want to know about this and it’s been a huge planning event for all of them. They even created a group chat without you to organize it.

"Seriously, guys?" Snorting at them as you all start to pick through the assortment of finger sandwiches on the bottom tier of the tower, you just shake your head. "Fine. But be prepared for me to ask a million and a half questions while I'm trying to outfit plan."

“We’ve already got your outfit planned.” Sydney tells you. “Don’t worry. We will be bringing it when we get you.”

"You're kidding me?" They have been extremely thorough – extremely thorough – it seems, and you huff at the lot of them playfully. "You guys really thought of everything, didn't you?"

“It’s our chance to make sure that all you do is show up and enjoy yourself.” Anna Leigh snorts. “Even your bridal shower had you planning things. And you can’t tell me you didn’t because that would be a lie.”

"I like to plan things," you remind her, even to the point where you automatically pick up the teapot from beside you and start pouring for your friends. "I might not be as good as Juan, but it's fun."

“But there are times where you deserve to be treated.” Selena adds. “Your bachelorette party is one of them. We do promise that no scandals will erupt from the night. No strippers have been hired.”

"We will be saving that for Junie, I'm sure." It's really just to get a reaction out of your little sister and her face wrinkles immediately.

“Eeeew, no.” She snorts. “The last thing I want is for some strange, naked man to rub on me.”

"Couldn't agree more, baby sis." You fill up her teacup and hand it back across the table. "Could not agree more."

“No, I don’t think any of us would want that.” Selena huffs. “I think you would be too busy thinking about my cousin, as gross as that is.” She teases playfully.

"I could completely freak you out if I wanted to." The silent confirmation of that fact is the necklace you've worn almost every day since Valentine's Day, and you unconsciously touch the heart-shaped charm where it lies just under the collar of your dress and under the string of pearls that goes with your costumes. "Get all lovey-dovey and thoroughly gross you out."

“Please don’t.” She grimaces and everyone at the table laughs. “I am related to him, and despite what Hannah thinks, I don’t sleep with my cousins.” She snorts. “Just because I’m from Texas doesn’t mean I’m into that kind of crap.”

"Nobody reasonable thinks you do." It really is sort of a blessing that Hannah Pike couldn't come to DC this weekend, being stuck on a mandatory business trip. Keeping the bridal shower drama free is important to everyone. "For a fully different topic, did everybody bring their song request for the wedding band if you have one? I promised I would send the list of requests in this week."

The topic on much nicer things, the party goes into full swing and Sydney makes sure to glance around at the tables to see the reactions of the tea service.

"I'm calling it." Issy says, halfway through the tea service when the savory tea towers around the room are switched out with sweet options. "You're going to have at least three people wanting to reserve tables for afternoon tea at the inn after this party. Maybe up to five."

“It would be good.” Sydney hums. “The tea service has been good for business. The restaurant is now full most of the day. And guests at the inn have even requested tea trays to their rooms.”

"We're pretty much booked solid through to the end of the year." Which is startling considering it's only July, but the inn has been packed. "Tea service reservations have been filling up, too. Which reminds me," you glance around the table after snagging a teacup full of lemon tiramisu. "When we get back from the honeymoon, I want to take all of you guys and Alex and David out for a night. To say thank you for how much help you've all been and show my gratitude. And no protests, I know you've all put immense money and time into these wedding events. I'm grateful."

"I heard something about a special pianist?" Not knowing a whole lot about the classical music scene despite enjoying it, you had just smiled and nodded when your mother mentioned it.

“Yes, I’m sure he will be here soon.” Sydney smiles as she looks around the room. “I wonder how it will sound in here, I’m sure it will be gorgeous.”

“Will I get called cheesy if I say it’s just as perfect as everything else has been?” Of course there have been hiccups along the way — most notably the night of the engagement party — but they’ve been handled and haven’t affected how lovely the road to your wedding has been. It’s been an absolute fairy tale.

“Of course you will.” Junie grins. “But that’s okay, because you are cheesy.”

“You’ll be cheesy too,” you assure your little sister. “In a couple of years when we’re doing all this for you.”

“I don’t want a big wedding.” She shrugs. “I appreciate you doing this so I can claim that it was too much.”

“Glad to do my duty as your big sister.” That has you raising your teacup in salute, a gesture echoed around the table. “But things with Dylan are good?” Junie and her soulmate have been together just as long as you and Marcus, but you’re grateful to see them moving much slower. There’s no need to rush at their age.

“They are wonderful.” Instantly her grin softens and her eyes take on the moony quality she is constantly teasing you about. “Really, really good. His parents like me, so that’s a plus. His mom cried when she met me, happy that her son had finally found his soulmate.”

“Good.” Junie’s been so happy this last year and more. It’s been bleeding into every aspect of her life and you swear even her GPA is up just by proxy of being in a better mood so she’s less grouchy about studying. “Just as long as nobody’s pressuring you guys about moving faster than you’re comfortable with.”

“No, I think that Dylan wants to move in together soon.” She admits with a grin. “And I don’t mind that.”

The table going silent and still for a long moment before breaking out into squeaks of glee, each woman reaching for Junie or hugging her from the side as she expresses the sweetness and happiness of that news in her own words. “Our little Junebug is growing up,” you huff softly, carefully wiping away a sentimental tear so as not to smudge your makeup. “Whatever you need, you have all of us and Alex and David and Marcus and Mom and Dad—” The length of the list makes you pause, and laugh softly. “You have so many people who love you, Junie. And we’ll be here to help you with anything you need.”

“I know.” She does know that her family loves her, her given and made families. It’s something that gives her comfort and joy in knowing that she doesn’t have to be alone. “But right now, we have a bride to celebrate and that is my big sister.” She tells you. “A woman I have looked up to my entire life.”

“Well gosh.” You exaggerate the word and wipe your hands down your face like Goofy blushing in a Disney cartoon. “I love you too, Junebug. Being your big sister is a privilege.”

“I know.” She quips, making everyone laugh and distracting you as a man in a suit walks in and quickly strides to the piano to sit down.

“I don’t think I could eat another bite but I want to.” Selena sighs, and you hum your agreement with teacup in hand. The food, as is the custom for anything coming out of Sydney’s kitchen, has been both endless and utterly delicious.

No one notices him, except your mother, until the first sound of a key strike from the piano is heard. Conversation stops and heads turn as the broad-shouldered man starts to play, his back to his audience.

You recognize the song immediately. La Vie en Rose is the song that you played for Marcus the night you confessed that you had feelings for him and it has been your song for the entirety of your relationship. It's even what you have planned for your first dance at your wedding. So to hear it now brings a tear to your eye even before you look up to watch whatever mysterious musician your mother has hired.

Except you know those broad shoulders. The haircut he got barely a week ago. The cut of that suit. The charcoal suit that he likes to wear with a blue shirt to offset the dark tone. But since when does Marcus play piano?

Another man enters the room, a violin on his shoulder as he starts to slowly join in the song as Marcus plays. His shoulders move as his fingers caress the keys and pull the song out of them that has become so special to him.

One by one, a full band strolls into the room with their instruments to join the tune, and all you can do is try to ebb the flow of tears welling up in your eyes. By the time the song swells, there are six more musicians in the room with Marcus, and you're suddenly convinced that all those golfing trips with your father have been a cover for the time he must have spent learning piano for this moment.

The song comes together beautifully. The building design is actually perfect to echo the harmonious stringed instruments. Making Marcus smile as he works through the song.

You aren’t really sure at what point during the song you pushed away from the table, open mouthed shock in your face but with so much love and gratitude in your heart for this man that a few tears have spilled over while he plays. This is true proof, at least to you, of how thoughtfulness between partners can make moments that last a lifetime.

Marcus feels you staring at him, making him wonder if you recognize that it's him. He smiles softly as the song slowly starts to wind down after an extended verse, one he had added himself.

The whole room is on their feet with applause, but your feet are on a wholly different mission — carrying you forward through the gallery to throw your arms around Marcus’s neck almost the second he’s stood up from the piano bench. There are tears, of course there are, but they’re such joyful ones that when you sniffle in his ear and chastise him for keeping such a secret, he knows you don’t mean it.

Marcus holds you close and when you pull back just the tiniest bit, he is pressing his lips to yours. “Sorry for crashing your party, but I wanted to give you your wedding present early.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you insist, not quite understanding what he means but over the moon that he’s here. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He promises, admiring your outfit and reaching up and caressing your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Even more than I already was.” Kissing him again gets a soft Awwe! from your assembled friends and family and you fluster a little. “Are you staying for the rest?”

“I don’t want to take away from the festivities.” He winks at you. “Besides, I still have a game to go watch with the guys.”

A soft pout only makes him chuckle quietly, but it earns you another kiss so that will have to be enough for now. “Then I expect you to come pick me up so we can sort through all the shower gifts at home tonight. Deal?”

"I will be here." He promises with a small chuckle. "I want to see how adorably drunk you get while you are celebrating with your ladies."

“Just tipsy enough to be cute,” you promise him. But before he can wave to your friends and make his exit, you place one soft hand on his chest. “You changed the song,” you observe quietly, as though it has only just occurred to you.

He smiles, eyes lighting up as you recognize that the song was longer than it should have been. "I added a lyric." He admits. "You'll hear it," he promises as he takes your hand and bows slightly like a gentleman would as he kisses it. "It will be in my wedding vows to the most beautiful woman I know."

Rather than your usual self-deprecation or teasing Oh yeah? When do I get to meet her? you find it impossible to do anything but smile and moon at him with the most lovestruck expression on your face as he makes his exit.

"When did Marcus learn to play the piano?" Selena walks up to you, wide eyed and obviously impressed with the display and a little envious of the lengths that her cousin will go to in order to show you the depths of his love for you. She can only hope her own soulmate would be as equally devoted.

“My guess?” When you turn around to face Selena, she looks as dreamy as you feel. “The regular golfing trips with my dad have actually been piano lessons.”

"Oh...you think?" It's entirely plausible, especially because Marcus spends all his free time with you beyond the golfing trips. "That's probably the sweetest damn thing I've ever heard."

“That’s…” you sniffle, wiping away the last bit of sentimental water from your eye. “That’s Marcus.” Perfect, wonderful, sweet Marcus.

"You deserve everything wonderful." Your mother comes up, flanked by Donna. "Marcus wanted to surprise you and give you a...'grand gesture'?" She tilts her head curiously.

“Learning to play piano so he can play our song and write a new lyric for it definitely counts as a grand gesture.” If you’re smiling half as hard as you think you are, you must be beaming. “It’s…something I did for him. My grand gesture was when I told him I loved him for first time. This is his.”

It's very sweet and very on point for the two of you. Donna smiles softly. "Marcus must have love that. So often he is the one to give a grand gesture."

“That’s why I did it,” you admit, knowing that it makes you an incredibly sappy couple together. “Because he deserves just as much love as he gives.”

"You are perfect for him." She coos, making your mother smile and shake her head. "By the time the wedding comes around, you'll be asking for a fireworks airshow with the Blue Angels and the Marine Corp marching band." She teases.

“Oh gosh.” The sound of it is sweet and very grand, but you shake your head and laugh right along with both mothers. “I think that might be a bit much. Even for us.”

Everyone laughs and your mother smiles softly. "Well, how about we move on to your gifts?" She asks, turning towards the table that stacked with boxes and bags. "There's quite a few to go through."

“There’s so many.” Unpacking the car with Marcus back at the house after the party is like unloading clowns from a Volkswagen Bug. “Didn’t we say that gifts weren’t necessary? We even listed a non-profit on the invitations for people to donate to instead.”

His eyes widen at the stack of gifts, and he chuckles, his hands on his hips as he determines the best way to attack the mound of boxes. "They love you. Or they just wanted to give you one hundred toasters." He glances back at you. "They aren't all toasters, are they?"

“Maybe,” you tease, looping your arm through the handles of all the gift bags on one half of the backseat. Just because you know what all the gifts are already doesn’t mean you’re going to spoil it for him. “I guess you’re just going to have to find out.”

"That's a lot of toasters." He huffs, shaking his head.

"Come on, baby." Leaning over, you smack a kiss to his cheek and grin, happy to be home. "Let's get this stuff inside and you can open everything while I enter who gave us what into a spreadsheet. I am not getting behind on thank you cards this early in the game."

Despite the fact that you no longer have to go up to the third floor or carry everything through the inn, it still takes several trips from the car to the house. "Did they buy out a Home Goods?" He grunts, finally bringing the last of the packages in.

"Two, I think." He's hauled everything into the living room, but you're in the kitchen grabbing drinks. "Do you want alcohol, caffeine, or to hydrate, babe?"

"I think we need to hydrate." His answer is slightly because of the heat, somewhat of how giggly you had been when you were picked up, and because it's too late for coffee.

"Two waters coming right up." You also grab your laptop from the kitchen table where you had left it this morning, and bring everything over to him on the big sectional sofa in the living room. "Where do you want to start, my love?"

"I honestly don't know." He huffs, "I guess we just go from one side of the room to the other?"

"Start with the thing closest to you, then." The spreadsheet is all made and ready to go, all you have to do is sit back and sip on your water as you enter data into it and Marcus marvels over the gifts that your friends and family decided would be perfect for your home. "The big box on your right is from your Aunt Clara."

"Okay, the big box." Marcus nods and moves towards it. "Have you already written down what everyone got us, or do you need to do that now?"

"Sydney did the typical bridesmaid with a notebook thing at the shower," you assure him. "Right now I'm just noting down if we have any specific reactions or ideas that I include in the thank you cards. Like 'Oh, Great-Aunt Martha, this electronic toaster is fantastic, we can't wait to make the fanciest grilled cheeses known to man.' Or whatever."

"Soooooo many toasters." He grunts, grinning at you before he opens the first box and finds the impressive looking espresso maker. "Huh...that's not going to toast bread, but I think I like it."

"It's definitely not." Giggling a little at how his eyebrows have raised, you tap the side of the box to draw his attention to the machine's advertised settings. "This is the model up from what we had on our registry. It's even fancier than what we picked out."

"Well damn Aunt Clara." He snorts, looking suitable impressed by the higher model machine. It will look good in the kitchen that currently sports a regular drip coffee pot. "We do have her sitting at a good table at the reception, right?"

"I think I have her at a table with David's parents because they're all scrapbook people." You glance up from your laptop and raise an eyebrow at him. "David's parents have already said they're making a scrapbook of the wedding, by the way."

"Interesting." He hums quietly, wondering if that will be something that you love or end up hating.

"However it ends up looking, it will be done with love." Pointing to the next bag to Marcus's right, you urge him on, trying to building momentum. "Next?"

He picks up at bag. "And who is this lovely gift from?" He asks, showcasing it playfully.

"That is from my baby sister." Scolding Junie had done no good, she just grinned at you and gleefully handed it over when it was time.

“Oh?” He hums as he opens it up and pulls out an organizer. “Ummmmm.”

“Flip it open,” you urge him, knowing that Junie put quite a lot of thought into the gift and he’ll like it once he realizes what he’s holding.

Once he opens it, he realizes what it is for. “Oh wow.” It’s an organizer, but it’s not for a single year. It’s for the two of you for your lifetime. Some pages are meant to be filled out separately, before your time together, but the majority is for you to record your major life events. Marriage, children, buying houses, moving. All organized into a beautiful leather binding that can be lovingly preserved for future generations.

“Our life together, between two covers.” Or, it will be, when you’re sitting together as old folks reminiscing as you fill the last pages. “Junie’s getting sentimental now that she has Dylan. It’s actually very sweet.”

“Dylan is showing her that emotional attachments are not just reserved for animals.” He has talked to the younger man several times and found him to be extreme nice and caring. That positive reinforcement has seemingly broken your younger sister out of her shell.

“Apparently they’re talking about moving in together.” It’s still a little unbelievable that you heard that out of your own sister’s mouth, but you absolutely couldn’t be happier for them Junie really does deserve the best and she’s been so happy since finding her soulmate.

"Oh yeah?" He looks both impressed and surprised. They are moving faster than he imagined, although it is still slow for some soulmates. "As long as they don't feel pressured."

“She said it was his idea and she seems so totally over the moon about it.” Flipping through the book together, there are some pages — engagement, moving in together, first house — that you can already fill out. “She thanked me for having the big public wedding so she doesn’t have to.”

That makes him laugh, a totally Junie thing to say since the younger sibling likes the spotlight even less that you do, although you handle it better. "I'm so glad we can help her out like that." He snorts. "I see Junie honestly doing a court house wedding with a small little family reception."

“I told both of my siblings when I bought the inn, that they just have to say the word and it’s their wedding site.” You shrug lightly and lean your head on Marcus’s shoulder. “I hope at least one of them takes me up on it, but we’ll see.”

"I think that it will be your brother." Marcus admits, shrugging slightly. "Whoever wants to use it, they will have a ton of help."

“Yes they will.” And it’s a comforting thought, considering how much work you now know a wedding to be. Marcus had tried to warn you, but you had been an enthusiastic new bride who dove in headfirst. Well, at least it’s been fun in addition to being a lot. “Want to open the next one?”

It takes forever to go through the stack of gifts, none of them were repeated surprisingly enough. It must have taken some behind the scenes coordination that you and Marcus weren't aware of. Maybe you should be considering everyone's love of surprises.

“If we recycle all this wrapping paper, we won’t have to buy more for a year.” Slumped back on the couch, both you and Marcus are boggled all over again by the amount of packages there were to open, but you made it.

“A year? Try three.” He jokes, shaking his head. “If you never knew how loved you are, you should know now.”

“This is for both of us,” you remind him, looking around at the piles of gifts you received today. Housewares, linens, gardening things, and decor amongst others.

"It's a bridal shower, not a groom's shower." He reminds you with a grin and drops a kiss on your nose. "You're loved, just admit it."

“I am loved.” That much you’ll agree to, dopey smile and all. “And I love you right back.”

He smirks and kisses your nose again. "Okay....we have our list, do you want to start messing with this stuff or tuck it away in that nice, empty storage room off the laundry room?"

“Why don’t we put each pile in the room where it belongs? It will be incentive to put it away.” You smirk at him and bop his nose with your finger. “Since you hate piles, it’ll bug you until we put everything away.”

"I feel like you are using that against me." He huffs, and shakes his head even as he starts to reach for the items to organize them for the rooms.

“Only in that it keeps me motivated too.” The pile for the kitchen is the largest so you move to that, first. “The fact that you’re happiest in a clean house makes me want to keep clean.”

“But if you’re tired, the dishes or laundry or whatever else can wait.” He promises. “Or I can do it my damned self if it’s bothering me that badly.”

“Oh, I’m not saying I feel pressured.” This stack is going to take several trips, you find rather immediately. The espresso maker is one trip in and of itself. “I’m saying you keep me honest, and I appreciate it.”

He chuckles and even though his hands are also full, he manages to shift everything to slap your ass as you pass by him. “Good to know.”

“So where are we going?” June asks, though she and Dylan are following dutifully behind as the six of you — her and Dylan, you and Marcus, and Alex and David leave Friday night dinner together. David had invited the siblings and soulmates out someplace but she can’t remember where.

"It's a surprise." David throws her a cheeky grin and a wink. "It wouldn't be any fun if I told you were we were going."

"Well, whatever it is, he has the blessing of the Secret Service," you note, glancing around the group of six of you to see the three agents giving you all a wide birth as you walk out to your cars. "Or is that just because we have Marcus?"

"I would like to think I have a little pull." Marcus teases, tapping your hip as he guides you towards your car. "Maybe not as much as I give myself credit for. But Agent Bailey appreciates the security around the house."

"She also appreciates that you built her an office with a daybed," Alex points out, smirking a little as he leans into his soulmate's side.

"I figured it was the least we could do." Marcus huffs. "The house is completely secure and that way whoever is with us can catch a nap."

“Step up, little brother.” Teasing between the six of you is natural, but of course it’s heaviest between the three siblings. “When you move out of the White House, make sure you have an extra bedroom for your agent.”

Alex snorts and shakes his head. "I'm honestly hoping that by that time, I can opt out of agents."

“I have to be honest…” As you walk, you glance back at the lagging agents and back at your siblings. “I’m pretty sure Mom exaggerated the mandatory part of our protection detail to us. But a lot of people were mad about the first female President being elected and I get how she would want us protected.”

"Yeah, I know." Alex snorts, shooting you a grin. "I looked up the rules before the detail ever was assigned." He admits with a shrug. "It gives her peace of mind and it's one less thing she has to worry about while she's busy being the most important person in the U.S."

“Maybe we’ll ask her to ease up next term.” Junie theorizes, shrugging as the group of you reach your cars. “Maybe not. By then, Birdie and Marcus will have produced at least one or two First Grandbabies, so she might double down on them and let me and Alex off the hook.”

"No." Marcus shakes his head. "We aren't going to have agents follow the babies around. I don't even think that's allowed for a protection detail."

“He’s joking.” David assures him, nudging his soulmate toward the car with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

"Follow you?" Marcus asks Dave as he opens the passenger door for you. Agent Bailey had followed in her car since Marcus's car is a government vehicle with the appropriate plates. It gives you just a few more moments of privacy.

“Yup.” The younger man nods and then tilts his head to June and Dylan as well. “It’s not far. Be there in no time.”

As soon as Marcus climbs in beside you, he asks the question while he's buckling his seatbelt. "So where do you think we are going?" He asks. "It's odd, right? Going off after dinner like this?"

"It's a little weird," you admit, buckling in as Marcus pulls out of the White House driveway behind your brother and his soulmate. "But more like a callback than anything else. When we would have big family dinners back in Philly, sometimes we would all go out after and shoot the shit somewhere. Usually in somebody's backyard or we'd go out to the suburbs where we knew we could find a pond or something to sit and stargaze. Our parents never minded as long as we all stuck together and didn't do anything illegal."

He hums, wondering if Alex and David just want to have a moment with Alex's siblings and their soulmates. Maybe they wanted to plan something for your mom and dad's anniversary. He knows there's nothing malicious, so he just follows the car in front of him and snorts at the six car motorcade that is winding through the city.

The National Mall is largely deserted when your little parade arrives well after dark on this arbitrary August night. There are very few people around, and none at all at the base of the Washington Monument when David pulls his car to a stop and everyone else follows suit behind him.

"The Washington Monument?" Marcus puzzles as he puts the car into park and glances at you, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Interesting."

"Don't look at me," you shrug, but point out the windshield where David and Alex have climbed out of their car already. "This is it, though."

You and Marcus join and equally confused Junie and Dylan, unsure of what the plan is as David shuffles you all together and towards the monument.

"So..." Alex starts, looking around at the confused group of you with a grin. "You're probably wondering why we brought you out here at night instead of when the Monument is actually open, but I promise it makes sense."

“Marcus and Dylan are new to this." David acknowledges, looking at the other two men. The other two soulmates to the First Kids. His adopted brothers in arms in a way that no one else can ever quite understand. "But when we were growing up, we used to stargaze all the time. And a couple of weeks ago...the night after Birdie's bridal shower...we were sitting out here after dark and we got to talking."

Alex shuffles slightly and reaches for his soulmate's hand. "David and I have decided to come out, officially." He tells you, a small - but determined - smile on his face. He's nervous, of course he is, but he's also tired of denying his love for the boy he will spend the rest of his life with. It's not fair to either of them.

"Oh my god..." June breathes, lighting up just a split second before you squawk the same words in a much more exuberant, excited tone.

"Oh my god, oh my GOD!" Both sisters sprint forward to wrap their arms around Alex and David, squeaking and babbling and giggling in absolute glee. The thing that has made their brother unhappy the most consistently in his life is staying in the closet – and that time is finally ending.

Marcus and Dylan hang back, allowing the siblings to smother the couple in affection before moving in with hugs and handshakes of their own. "Congratulations on making that decision." Marcus murmurs, knowing that sometimes doing the right thing is the hardest thing. "We will be right there beside you, for anything you need."

"You guys have been dealing with plenty of media bullshit over the last year and a half." David shakes Marcus's hand gratefully. "Any advice you have would be appreciated and valued."

Marcus chuckles, knowing that is the absolute truth. "Anytime. I would be glad if you and Alex don't have to go through any of that bullshit."

"Whatever comes our way, we want to try to be the best examples we can be for other people who have been afraid to be themselves." For as long as David has been thinking about this, personally, he's grateful to be surrounded by so much support. "It's...it's a lot to think about. And to process. But I think we're finally ready."

"That is great." Marcus grins, loving how completely besotted you look at the two of them as you squeeze Alex again. You have worried about him, often sounding out those worries to Marcus and this has to be a relief for you.

"Oh god, are you crying?" Alex huffs at you, trying to diffuse his own emotional reaction by teasing you about yours. You're both wiping at your faces anyway so it's all even in the end. "Of course I am!" And you're not even sorry about it either, as you squeeze both of your brother's cheeks in your hands. "I'm so proud of you that I don't even know if I can think of an insult to temper it right now."

"I didn't think it would garner this dramatic of a reaction." David jokes, moving over to Alex and slightly pulling him away from you. "But since the tears have already started...." He grins and one hand flicks away the tears under his soulmate's eye and he sighs softly. "There's another reason why I brought you out here."

"Please tell me it's to teach my sister that tears are contagious," Alex jokes, not sensing the deep tonal shift that is rippling through the group, starting with David.

David laughs, once again struck by how perfect Alex is. His thumb rubs the back of his hand and he shakes his head. "No. Something more important than that." He reveals. He doesn't look around to make sure that no one is watching. The area is deserted and he knows that he would rather this moment be more about just pure love and joy than looking over his shoulder. He smiles as he shifts down to one knee in front of his soulmate. "I need to ask you a question."

"Oh my god." He might be the last of the three siblings to say the phrase in the last three minutes, but when Alex gasps his hand goes over his heart and he looks down at David in utter shock.

“We have know that we are soulmates for so long, long before I ever truly understood what the word meant.” David tells him. “You’ve been my best friend, my confidant, my shoulder to cry on, my very best and worst secret. But there’s never been a day that I haven’t loved you.” Reaching into his pocket, David pulls out a ring box and opens it to show Alex a beautiful wood and tungsten ring that has a single diamond in the center. “Will you marry me?”

The air is sucked out of the whole group as Alex works to compose himself. You and June clutch each other's hands as well as your soulmates', and Alex gulps at least four times in a silence that draws longer and longer the more he tries to hold back tears and try to think of the right thing to say. Finally he just bursts out a "YES" and lunges for David, wrapping his soulmate up in his arms and claiming a kiss as he shakes with the joy and surprise of the moment.

David laughs into the kiss, holding Alex close and his own tears of joy slip out. He had honestly had thoughts at times that they would never be here and even if their parents aren’t, he had wanted to share this with you and Junie. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He always has. Since before Alex knew what love meant, he knew he was completed irrevocably by this boy — this boy who has grown up into a thoughtful and keen-minded man that he is proud of and hated having to deny. “I love you.” He repeats, the tears streaking down his face as they stand up together, still clinging to each other and the moment.

Marcus’s phone is used to capture the moment discreetly, having figured out what it was and pulled it out quickly. He knows that they will want it later on.

You and June are jittery on an inhuman level, practically dancing in place as David slides the ring onto Alex’s finger and steps back. He’s all laughs as the three of you fling your arms around each other and cling to each other in another moment of shared joy.

“You’re next.” Alex warns Junie, practically beaming bright enough to light up the night. “Only one of us left now.”

“We’ll let you two wackos get it out of the way first,” she laughs, sniffling as she squeezes both of her big siblings. “We’re just apartment hunting. No rings yet.”

“Apartments lead to sex on every surface. Sex on every surface leads to babies.” Marcus teases, grinning broadly.

“And they can have their life and as many babies as they want without getting married,” you remind him, smirking up at your fiancé and grinning. He’s so close to being your husband. Just a few more weeks until the wedding. “If that’s what they want. Just like we want to get married, and so do Alex and David.”

“Of course they can. Notice I didn’t say anything about marriage.” He teases right back and pulls you close. “Although I’m desperate to be married to you.”

“Four weeks.” The hum in your voice is practically a pure as you lean up to nudge his nose with yours. “Just one little month left.”

“And we still don’t have a single clue about our stag parties.” He huffs, cutting his eyes over at your sister and brother with their respective soulmates. Everyone is apparently in on the secrecy for both parties. He had laughed when you had pouted about not knowing and then he had found out that Juan wouldn’t say a thing about his own party.

“And you’re just as frustrated as I am, even after teasing me.” You tilt your head back and leave a kiss on his cheek, grinning the whole time. “Whatever they have planned, they’re keeping State secrets like pros.”

“CIA level secrets.” Marcus snorts. “Your mom I understand, but I don’t get why it’s so secret.”

"They're having fun with it." And given your love of secrets, you honestly are too. You may jokingly call it torture to be left out of the loop, but it's all in good fun. The playful delight of having absolutely no idea what it expect is actually pretty fun.

“Yes they are.” He grins as he enjoys the sparkle in your eyes. “We will be finding out soon.”

"The thing is, sweet Con..." you have a tendency to talk softly to your goddaughter when you're carrying her around, and babysitting is a time when you frequently have her strapped to your chest as you pick up around Sydney and Juan's house so they can come home to an even cleaner place. Sometimes – like today – you'll do a bit of cooking or baking too. There's muffins in the oven so that your best friends can have snacks or breakfast ready and waiting for them when they have crazy mornings with their almost-one-year-old. "The thing is, midterm elections are stickier than your hands after you play in applesauce. So things are going to get very interesting."

“Hey babe, I’m back.” Marcus opens the door and lifts the bag, the diapers secured. There had been a recall on the ones his goddaughter wore and when Syd had called you, he had immediately gone out to get some new ones. “We can change diapers again.”

"Yaaaaayyyy!" You cheer in the most hushed tone possible, waving Constance's little hand in the air. She'd curled her fingers around one of yours and held on tight. "Thank you, love."

“No problem.” He grins and winks at both you and the baby. Constance likes Marcus and giggles when he comes closer. “Is she ready for one, or still good?”

"She's still good for now. No bombs while you were out, thank goodness." With her hand around your finger, you make Constance wave and the baby giggles again. She really does love Marcus.

“That’s good.” He lifts up the second bag. “I also picked up dinner. I know you are baking, but I figured we deserved some take out.”

"Ooo, what kind of take out?" With the baby held tight to your chest, you rock her a little bit as you follow Marcus into the kitchen and try to get a peek at the bag, but there is not a single logo in sight beyond the diapers.

“Figured we would change it up this time.” He waggles his brows. “Thai. And Chinese. They had this new fusion place that I saw.”

"I like that even when we change it up, we stick to Asian." While he starts unloading the bags, you keep your movement going, dancing around the room with Constance to keep her laughing. It's almost naptime, which is perfect timing. "Did I tell you I had a nightmare the other night where I couldn't tolerant Indian food while I was pregnant? Woke up terrified and craving tandoori lamb chops. Very confusing way to wake up."

“Ohhh is that why you begged me to pick up Indian on the way home on Wednesday?” He tilts his head and chuckles. “That is your version of hell.”

"It really is. Having food aversions to highly spiced foods or to chocolate will make me utterly miserable when the time comes." Constance pauses in her laughter to yawn and you look down at her, wrapping both hands around the baby at your chest. "I saw that sweet girl. Is it nap time, honey?"

“She’s so damn good.” He can’t help but melt at the sleepy baby, “why don’t I put her to bed and you can go through the food?”

"Perfect." It takes a little maneuvering to hand her over to Marcus, but she goes relatively easily. After her parents, you and Marcus are two of her favorite people. as her godparents you've been a constant presence in her life, two of her most regular babysitters, and two of the first faces that she learned. "I'll grab plates and we can load them up in here?"

“That works.” She snuggles into his chest and he sighs. Almost willing to suggest that you go off your birth control now even though you are only three weeks away from your wedding. “Come on, sweet girl.” He coos. “Let’s get you down for that nap.”

Five or so minutes later, Marcus is back downstairs with the baby cam link pulled up on his phone and Constance happily set down in her crib with her current favorite stuffed animal – the panda bear that Sydney's sister gave her when she was born.

“Why do I think that Constance is such a good baby, that Juan and Sydney will be trying for a sibling soon?” Marcus asks, patting your thigh as you watch the monitor for a moment with the most poignant yearning in your eyes.

“Syd wanted to wait a year before they tried again.” After the trauma associated with the birth of her first, you were honestly surprised Sydney only wanted to wait one year. “We’re almost to that mark, so I guess it could happen any time now.”

“Yeah.” He hums, hoping that the next one goes so much smoother for your best friend. Although, if it’s like last time, Juan has already said that will be the last child they have. He won’t risk his wife’s health anymore and Marcus can completely understand that.

“Let’s make our plates.” As much as you could sit here and stare at the baby monitor all evening, food is good and relaxing with Marcus is even better.

“Sure baby.” Since you are baby sitting, Marcus had forgone picking up a bottle of wine. While neither one of you had a problem with having some normally, it was better to be sober while caring for the little one. He stands up and offers you his hand. “Then we will stuff ourselves and find something to talk about.” He teases, knowing that it’s going to be wedding or honeymoon related. Both of you are way too excited to talk about anything else right now.

“Oh that will be so difficult to do,” you tease, happily accepting his hand and winding your own into it. “We never ever have anything to talk about.”

“Nothing at all.” He jokes. “No plans, no dreams, nothing.” The walk to the kitchen only takes a moment and he appreciates that you laid everything out. “Thanks babe.”

“You picked it up, this is the least I could do.” It only takes a few minutes to fill your plates and then you’re sitting down together at the neat little kitchen table with Marcus’s phone between you to keep an eye on the baby monitor. “I got an e-mail from the inn in Inverness, by the way.” Alright, apparently it’s honeymoon talk. “A little welcome note from the owner and suggestions of things to do or places to eat while we’re in town.”

“Oh?” He loves how accommodating they have been and he knows you will be thrilled to stay in a Scottish inn. “That is incredibly thoughtful of them. Any ideas you didn’t already have?” He smirks. “I know you want to go to those Outlander stones.”

“I got a few good ideas for visiting filming locations,” you admit, grinning at him guiltlessly. “And some recommendations for places the locals actually eat at, instead of all the tourist traps that I’ve been finding online.”

He snorts, knowing you have been doing a deep dive on where to go and what to see. It won’t be disappointing at all. “I know you will enjoy that. Taking lots of notes for Sydney.”

“I’m under orders.” Solemn ones, to take pictures and notes about foods you both try and fall in love with while you’re on your honeymoon. “Which reminds me, our dinner reservation at Shish Mahal is all set.” The Glasgow restaurant where tikka masala was first served had been declared a mandatory stop on your trip around Scotland.

“I know you are excited about that.” He grins. “Although I want to try Scottish pub food too.”

“That’s why I was glad to get the recommendations from the innkeeper.” You tell him excitedly. “So you can have plenty of old school Scottish food to feed your heritage.”

He nods, happy you are so excited about the honeymoon. It’s going to be an adventure for both of you. Despite his time in Europe, he’s never been to Scotland and neither have you, so it will be something you can both enjoy together.

“Can I…talk to you about something?” You glance over at him from watching the baby monitor, food almost entirely forgotten — almost, it smells and tastes amazing so you’re not going to forget it entirely.

“Absolutely.” Marcus knows that it won’t be anything bad. It’s just something that has obviously been milling around in your brain until you were ready to talk about it. “Hit me.”

It doesn’t require a deep breath, or concern, or any kind of worry. It’s just a gentle smile that creeps across your face like sun rays from behind a cloud. “I don’t want to wait anymore to start trying for a baby. The only reason I wanted to wait earlier was because my dress was fitted already…and we’re so close to the wedding. A few weeks won’t matter even if we’re lucky enough to get pregnant the first try.”

The food is forgotten and Marcus almost forgets how to breathe. “Are you sure?” He knows you are, but he always likes to double check. “I know I’m ready whenever you are.”

“I’ve been ready,” you admit, tucking your hand into his to hold onto him tightly. “I just didn’t want to throw a monkey wrench in our wedding when we’ve put so much work into the day.”

“Baby, I would not have cared if you were about to pop, but I know what you mean.” He rushes forward to kiss you. “When can you make the appointment?”

“I’ll call first thing in the morning and see when they can fit me in.” Of course he’s just as excited as you are. You didn’t expect anything less. “Hopefully it won’t take long.”

“The appointment or getting you pregnant?” He asks, smirking slightly at the activities that involve getting you to that condition.

“Yes.” You tease right back, poking Marcus in the side as you both laugh.

He waggles his brows playfully. “So that breeding kink can come out to play?”

“Full throttle.” And you won’t complain about it one single bit.

“Yesssssss.” He pumps a fist playfully even though he’s only half kidding. Just the idea of it has caused some extremely good nights rolling around in bed together.

“I didn’t think you would mind that.” You lift his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles and laugh again. “I’m excited, baby. And I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too.” Marcus promises softly. “And I’m going to love the day I call you Mrs. Pike almost as much as the day you tell me you are pregnant.” He smiles. “Our dreams are coming true Hummingbird.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #PrincessPike2018 #PikeWedding2018 #WhiteHouseWedding2018

[ravensmadreads]

Ok so hear me out…what if there was a gym au with all the boys…🤔

You meet Joel in the weights section. He helps you with your form and then helps you with your aches afterwards 🤭

Javi P is a cardio king, he’s gotta be able to run after all. You meet him at the treadmills but he has a better suggestion for some cardio you can do together 🫠

Dieter is in a dance or aerobics class. He’s good with a rhythm, and it always boosts his serotonin. He takes you out dancing afterwards and we know where that leads 😌

Ezra is doing yoga. He loves the stretch. He helps you perfect your downward facing dog form 😏

I can’t think of any other boys rn but…what if…what if I’ve been thinking too much about this…what if I opened a new doc…

GIDEON?!?!?!?!

*raven.exe has stopped working*

I'M DEAD???

Me @ this:

Okokok so hold on lemme catch up with your big beautiful brain!!

Joel is DEFINITELY weights. He's hovering behind you, acting as your spotter, and then he puts his gigantic warm hands all over you: "correcting your form darlin' ". he chats a mile a dozen about his girls as he distracts you while you wheeze your way through the last set! he blushes all the way to the tips of his ears trying to ask you out before he absolutely destroys your 🐈 in the car???

Omg YOU DID NOT JUST BRING SWEATY JAVI P INTO THIS IM CRYINGGGGGGGGG. I WILL DO CARDIO WITH HIM ANY DAY !! (Idk if i can keep up but i bet he can make me 😉😉) ok but he gets on the elliptical with that tight butt and he definitely catches you staring SHAMELESSLY.

Oooooh but you're so right about Dieter?? You know those Zumba or pole dancing classes??? YEP THAT'S WHERE DIETER IS. the man can move his hips!! He will absolutely one hundred percent give u a lap dance. Idec that im so far off your idea rn i just want his sweaty curls on top of me.

I haven't really dipped my toe in the Ezra fandom yet, but that blonde streak of hair is very distracting. And that voice 🥵🥵🥵 yes please bend me in a pretzel sir 🫠🫠🫠

What if you opened the google doc... what if i wrapped u in a blanket burrito and made out with you (with consent ofc)... what if i fed u snacks... what if i proposed marriage..

#i was thinking marcus pike needs to be in on this #maybe like the punch bag or advanced martial arts or something #i need him #im insane about him #to be fair im pretty much insane about everything #i had to do a 100 squats today (my trainer is sadistic) and i was absolutely picturing joel underneath me the whole time #<< nobody saw this though #max lord would never set foot in a gym #atleast not a public one #omg gideon WE FORGOT DIN #HES THE ONE WITH THE MOST DEFINED MUSCLES AND THE TATTOOS #HE KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYTHING BUT HES SO SHYYYYY #and he has this little kid who he pops in the office with a book before he works out for an hour #you have absolutely not tried to “accidentally bump into him” pre/post shower #i would climb him like a tree #ok im out #raven screams #joel miller x reader #dieter bravo x reader #ezra x reader

[daddy-dins-girl]

Pedro Boys "Every Friend Group Has"

PSA: MARCUS P I'M SO SORRY, I LOVE YOU, IT'S JUST A JOKE! I WOULD NEVER LEAVE YOU.

related posts: Pedro Boys "During a Fire Emergency" Pedro Boys "Nice Argument. Unfortunately," Pedro Boys "Don't Fuck This Up" Pedro Boys "Dad(dy) Matrix" Pedro Boys & Stabbing Pedro Boys "Lawful/Neutral/Chaotic" Pedro Boys "Feral/Sad/Angelic" Pedro Boys Respond to "I love you." Pedro Boys "Character Tropes" Pedro Boys "Gay/Depressed/Horny on Main" Pedro Boys "Dad/THOT/Bastard" Pedro Boys "bring some Coke to the party" Pedro Boys "Zombie Apocalypse Team" Pedro Boys "I Want a Baby" Pedro Boys "As Babysitters" Pedro Boys "As McDonald's Dads" Pedro Boys "in a horror movie" Pedro Boys "Cinnamon Rolls" Pedro Boys "5 Kids, 3 Chairs" Pedro Boys "Playing Monopoly"

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #maxwell lord #agent whiskey #marcus moreno #marcus pike #claudia flores #ezra prospect #javi gutierrez #that guy from SVU whose name has escaped me. Tito something I think? #idk I needed somebody mean and he came to mind

[nerdieforpedro]

Nerdie! What's the best date a PP character could surprise you with?

Melly, I thought very deeply on this question. Pondering, plotting a bit maybe in my head of course.

Truthfully, I am a simple woman. A PP character popping up and asking me on a date is the surprise itself and they could tel me we're going to McDonald's and splitting a happy meal because they have a coupon and I'd still giggle like I won the lottery. 😆

Frankie Morales would be the one to convince me to get in a helicopter. Planes I'm fine in, those helicopters seem to shake and look scary, but I'd trust him. Wouldn't even make him do a pee test. I'd just need to check his pupils with my penlight though. We can have a drink after to calm my nerves.

Marcus Pike would take me to some restaurant where you actually need a proper date outfit and not scrubs or leggings. We would need to go shopping on our way there or knowing him, he'd bring me an outfit in my size (how did you know sir, I don't think that's a skill for art crime?) And I'd eat foods I can't pronounce, maybe they'd be a bit spicy, but it would still be fun because I'd be trying new foods with Marcus who is a foodie.

Joel Miller would take me on a picnic. Because it won't require much cooking. That's dangerous territory for Joel and I'm not trying to die Mr. Miller. Ham sandwiches, assortment of juices, water and soda, Pringles chips (because he knows those are the only ones I will eat) something chocolate (cake, candy, pudding, brownies, etc) but not peanuts in the chocolate. It's offensive to the chocolate. We can sit out in nature and just chill, chat and maybe, just maybe, he'll let me play with hair. Like a little. Just a little Joel!

Speaking of chill, a date with Dieter would start off with some edibles while we travel somewhere. Air boat ride, go-carts, drag brunch, somewhere you would not expect for a date but it would still be s fun. He would encourage me to 'relax' and try some of whatever is in his stash. Mushrooms? Pills? Music notes? A powder? Who knows? Clothes will come off not for sexual reasons, but because we're both hot because we're high, then we're wet because it was a bright idea to jump in a pool. Now we're soggy, go shopping for new clothes. I finally my own Dieter robe and pajama pants. He won't let me get a shirt though, insists I wear a glitter tank top with the word 'moist' on it because I lost a game of go fish. We end on karaoke (I enjoy karaoke if they have songs I like) and ramen. Huge bowel of ramen. Followed by ice cream. Lots of laughing and then we sleep in a pillow fort where we need to help each other up off the floor. Then it's time for some biofreeze, icy hot, tiger balm, lidocaine, something. I can rub it there Dee but we gotta shower first. I'm unsure if we did after the pool and I'm not okay with that, but I was high. So let's wash though, it's itchy in this fort. 😎

A date with Din would be include the RazorCrest, because I wanna go into space. I mean Din's going to have to tell me how to be safe in space, but I wanna go. I would also ask that he let me try his cape out so I can swish it around. Maybe I'll get a laugh out of him but either way, I'm going to make that cape flourish. I'd also ask him questions about Mandalorian culture so I can just listen to him explain stuff to me, his voice echoing in the ship. Hehe 🥰 Maybe he'll even let me hold his hand and touch the beskar, if I can ask without sounding completely crazy.

I don't know how a date with Javier Pena would go. I don't feel like I'm cool enough to hang with Javi. We might go to a club or a bar, somewhere you can dance. I also can't dance, so this maybe isn't the best idea, but a few drinks will make me think I'm a better dancer and we may have fun. 🤣

I also would not know how a date with Dave York would go either. He'd too busy with his...contracts, let's say. His would be the most surprising because he's likely to break in when I'm either writing, watching TV, taking a nap, playing a game or otherwise doing some not cool thing that I find highly enjoyable. We're going to someplace I can't mention and he may blindfold me so I don't know the way there. My sense of direction is pretty poor so there's really no need for that Dave. It's going to be a classy place similar to Marcus and he would need to get me an outfit for that too, but I think he's also going to put me to work as a distraction or helping out with a contract because I have fingerprints that read very poorly. (I needed to be fingerprinted 3 times for my nursing license to the point they said - 'meh, just forget it and keep and ear out from the state board.') Then he'll drop me at home and tell me until next time and give me my cut of the money. Best paying date ever. 🫡

Javi G and I are having a movie marathon at his place in Majorca. I have a passport and I can pack fairly quickly. May do a walk on the beach to get out of the house. Not leaving unless he lets me fluff his hair. I will fight him and pin him down. Which is a lot but that gorgeous mane is worth it. 🤭

My bad Melly, I went into some Dieter, Din and Dave brain rot here. 😚 Hopefully you giggled and I maybe answered your question.

#Nerdie answers #the answer is so long #asks #sweet Melly #she didn't ask for any of this #I maybe answered the question #I went into head canons and didn't look back #I can't really connect to Javi P #He's too cool #I need someone who can be awkward #like Joel or Din #I think they'd be okay with comfortable silence #Dieter will keep me on my toes and find me being social awkward hilarious #Dave just found me useful and that's okay #Marcus Pike would also try and make feel comfortable #I would feel bad about him trying so hard and try but spill something because stains love me #Javi G is letting me play in those sand-swept locks

[smiletimeisrunningout]

the 100 wishlist:

-Marcus Kane: she thought the council rediscussed her pregnancy and still kept her in her cell even if it sorta proved her self-defense claim (you can't kill anyway but I assume there is a bit more leniency if you weren't trying to, you were protecting yourself, and you are pregnancy. At least enough not to be in solitary anymore, but as far as Emma is concerned she should have been freed) but he actually knew nothing of this because they were too busy with the Ark dying so there is a weird relationship right there, between the angry pregnant girl who is kinda giving him a pass while hating on all other people with power, and the guy who is trying to do better now on the ground and who later on is visibly !!! about Diyoza being pregnant ??

-a Bellamy to freak out with questions about his mom and then to freak out even more when he realizes why he's being asked these questions, he was working so hard to 'be better' and protect people and lead, what is he supposed to do with this time-ticking bomb

-all the interactions with Murphy to see what happens in an universe where someone is weirdly caring from beginning to end ?? John Murphy having a tiny blonde girl who finds a little too easy to kill who has his back (possible 'trapped in the bunker together' situation there with the added terror of her pregnancy advancing though) (also he can cook, it's canon, which means he'll have Emma's undying love for that alone)

-interactions with Emori who is now around a girl who would never shun her son even if he was born a mutant and does everything for his sake but doesn't judge Emori herself for her crime-lifestyle, and later on Emma actually tries to volunteer to save her from being experimented on, because she's sure she'll be left to die in Praimfaya anyway and is giving her son one more chance it if the nightblood experiment works and saving someone in the process

-Raven having someone who picks her first even if it's platonically ?? Raven getting this big sister bond and helping Emma out too, she hates asking for help but it's a bit different when it's very mutual

-if it's possible for a Jasper not to completely fall apart after Mount Weather because Emma is not staying too close to a constantly drunk depressed guy while 8-9 months pregnant, maybe not losing it completely because he gets to protect/help someone else (Emma), that same Jasper who started to feel a bit of a spark of life again when he bonded for five minutes with a girl in Luna's place, maybe gets to feel better when helping Emma with baby Henry and going with them all to space later on ?

-Spacekru being a weird family unit to baby Henry though, all the aunts and uncles he needs // if Henry is the bunker and Emma is in space they'd have to keep Emma from dying of heartbreak though

-Clarke finding someone who agrees with literally all of her choices except for the one of forgiving and sorta dating Lexa (never forgive! Never forget!) and regardless of which faction Emma belongs to Emma actually agreeing that Madi should have been left flameless, are you kidding.

-I actually want to write with an Abby and fix the relationship because I like Abby, but I think it would be terrible for the other rper if we don't know each other well because Emma would be an ass.hole for a while and refuse to be reasonable about not hating the adults

-all the other 100s

-the weirdness of 'oh no, it's not that I don't trust Lincoln because he's a grounder, I don't trust him because he's a man' and 'I can understand how a traumatized kid started shooting up a village of Grounders after being terrorized by Grounders all along, I will not excuse cheating' 'I may follow Jaha because Pike is going to kill us all but my god will I feed him to the water monsters if I get the chance'

#I think Emma's father will actually get along with Marcus and ditch Pike immediately #Emma's mother would try to push Emma to forgiveness and kindness again but she's a mama bear so watch out #but seriously Marcus & Bellamy would be hilarious interactions to me while I have no idea of where they'd go #John I'm a survivor Murphy having to deal with someone he doesn't need to manipulate and in fact his life is safer if he doesn't #Raven having her little bodyguard even in s1 & Emory dealing with 'okay someone who isn't John just tried to give her life for me wtf' #wishlist;

[qveerthe0ry]

Your Ride, Best Trip

Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time

Marcus Pike is perfect. 

He’s your dream man. 

He’s sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and he’s remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.

He’s effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you aren’t feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place. 

He’s fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees. 

He’s so smart, and he’s so funny, and he’s all yours… finally. 

See, when he hadn’t so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit. 

How could you not? He’d been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own. 

So you asked him what was up, and he told you.

Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found you— like fate— when he wasn’t even looking, when he least expected it. 

You had no problem taking it slow. You’re still convinced you’d wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.

After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if you’d have him.

You told him you’d love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. You’d be crazy not too. 

And then he finally kissed you.

It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight. 

You’ve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things. 

But now it’s one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.

You haven’t made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, he’s been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him. 

It doesn’t help that he touches you like you’re the last person on earth. His hands are so big and they’re gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt. 

You think it’s going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. You’re in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that you’re wearing. 

His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and there’s no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you can’t say it. You’d feel bad, making him rush when he’s made it clear he wants to take things slow. 

When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore. 

You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training. 

“Sweetheart—”

His eyes flicker down to your lips. You’re sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

You don’t know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager. 

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you you’re going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated. 

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it. 

You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed. 

“What do you want?” 

His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt you’ve claimed. But it doesn’t stop that fight or flight response from kicking in. 

“Nothing! Nothing, Marcus, I’m okay— I’m great. Just wanna cuddle.” 

But the creases in his forehead don’t smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine. 

“You’re lying.” 

You sigh and close your eyes. 

“I’m not lying, I’m just— I don’t want to push you to move too fast.” 

You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty. 

“I’ve been lying, too,” Marcus whispers. 

It’s your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speed— all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with it—

“I have a small dick.” 

His face is so flushed. He can’t meet your gaze.

He’s staring at the bedsheets between you, and you’re both just silent for a long, awkward moment. 

“I mean— the divorce and all that, it’s all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. But— the last few weeks I guess I’ve just been… stalling?” 

He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction. 

“Marcus…”

“I get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didn’t sign up for—“

“Marcus.”

You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.

“I don’t want to leave. You didn’t lie. It’s just— you really think that would bother me?” 

He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little. 

“I don’t know. Most people were… bothered. I guess,” he shrugs. 

You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation. 

Because saying ‘I don’t care’ seems too dismissive. But you don’t. You couldn’t possibly care less about what’s in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you don’t want to make it sound like it’s something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because it’s not. 

“I’m not bothered,” you finally tell him. 

He still doesn’t meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s okay, I’ve heard it all. I know I’ve lead you on—”

“Jesus,” you cut him off, “what did— who made you feel this way?” 

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair that’s fallen flat across his scrunched forehead. 

“Everyone?” 

You sigh his name, and you’re tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you. 

He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up. 

“That’s— Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.”

He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at. 

“Really, Marcus. I mean— maybe if someone’s just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?

All you’ve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless you’re like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you haven’t led me on at all.”

He’s still not looking at you. Why won’t he look at you, and believe you? 

“I don’t want to sound dismissive. I understand you’re insecure about it. I’m insecure about some things too. I don’t want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.” 

There. He’s looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but he’s finally meeting your gaze. 

“Really?”

You scoff. 

“Really really.”

A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth. 

“Why?”

“Because— now, don’t go getting a big head about this— you’re perfect. Like, everything about you. You’re sweet and you make me laugh and you’re gorgeous.”

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

“And I’m in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think we’re super compatible.”

“Me too,” he whispers.

“Good, so… we’re on the same page then.”

You watch him lick his lips, and his hand that’s been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine. 

“And… There’s other reasons,” you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment. 

“Yeah… They’re uh… big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you haven’t noticed.”

He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back. 

“Your nails are always trimmed, and— your fingers are long and thick. I’ve thought about them a lot.”

He breathes your name, and now you realize you’re the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

“And the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didn’t get sore.” 

“Sweetheart—”

“Really, it’s one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. It’s tedious.”

He says your name again, this time with a warning tone. 

You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted. 

“You’re not lying.”

His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again. 

“Fuck.”

It’s the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs. 

“I’ve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are… I think about them at night, when I’m touching myself.” 

That’s convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth. 

His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you. 

You can’t muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction. 

You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. It’s a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long. 

Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. There’s so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs. 

You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt. 

Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize you’re gawking. 

But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, he’s smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why you’re devouring him like you’re starved. 

He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice. 

“I think about you, too. All the time.” 

You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest. 

“You know that? You think I haven’t had you a million different ways in my head?” 

Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter. 

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod. 

He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now it’s just filthy. No more pretense, it’s been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience. 

His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt. 

“You come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you don’t drive me crazy?” 

The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss. 

“I don’t wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.”

You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that you’ve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head. 

He curses when he sees you. It’s the first time. You’ve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe you’d be more nervous if you weren’t careening toward the pleasure he’s promised you. 

He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing you’ve ever craved before. 

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

His syrupy voice isn’t as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants you’re wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers. 

“Can I?”

You’re nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch. 

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck. 

“It’s just you.” 

And it’s true. There’s no ego-stroking here. You’ve waited too long to get this and now you’re fiending, any touch is a relief. 

And he’s huffing into that skin under your ear, like you’re playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans. 

“So sweet, huh?”

You make a disgruntled noise but there’s not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess. 

He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. You’re certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips. 

“That’s all for me?” 

There’s a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.

But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if you’ll ever not be desperate for him again. 

He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip. 

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” 

The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you aren’t sure you’ve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you. 

“Yes, please.”

He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. It’s a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until you’re bare to him and he’s gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes. 

Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, he’s propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs. 

You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face. 

It’s a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. It’s you who breaks the spell, only because you know you’re at the very edge of control. 

“You sure you’re ready?”

You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. It’s hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.

“I’m positive… can’t believe I psyched myself out for so long.”

He huffs and shakes his head at himself. You’re ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else he’s done, to spread yourself open for him. 

The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe it’s the anticipation. So close to what you’ve thought about every single night for weeks. Months– since the day you first met, if you’re being honest. 

He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels. 

His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.

“You’re soaked.” 

His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they don’t breach, and you feel like he’s teasing, readying a whine in protest. 

The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure. 

Oh, he’s fucking good at this. 

There’s no apprehension in his movements. It’s like he’s read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else. 

You’re stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers. 

“You have no idea.”

He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face. 

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side. 

You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles. 

All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. You’re losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly it’s like you’re touching yourself. 

You’re not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcus’ lips capture your own to let them mingle together. 

Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. It’s a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadn’t been so diligent this entire time you’d think he didn’t know what he was doing. 

But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids. 

You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours. 

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. You’re clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you can’t be bothered to worry about what needy noises you’re making.

He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder. 

“I gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?” 

You nod so fast you’re surprised your head doesn’t detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs. 

You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if it’s just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction. 

He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants. 

“Not yet. Let me take my time with you. You’ve waited so long, right? I’ll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.” 

You huff. 

You should’ve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets he’d make on how a movie’s plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinner— it’s all adding up now, and you can’t believe you didn’t expect it. 

Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and it’s hot and it’s yours. 

“Put your money where your mouth is,” you breathe. 

He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five o’clock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.

He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs. 

He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out. 

All of a sudden you can’t watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation. 

The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again. 

Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you. 

All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold. 

Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs. 

A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You don’t know how you’ll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that you’ve finally got him here. It’s so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever. 

His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.” 

You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and it’s so so so fucking good you’re sure you’re going combust. 

His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesn’t stop, and you’re dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there. 

It’s blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake. 

“Please don’t stop,” you pant, “I’m so close.” 

To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men you’ve been with, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until you’re dropping. 

All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue. 

As the shivers roll through you, Marcus’ fingers slow, and though he can’t remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him. 

He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting ‘shhh’ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses he’s dropping all over the skin he can reach. 

Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers. 

His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. That’s what he gets, being so goddamn good at that. 

And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now you’ve only ever kissed or dreamed of. They’re even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is. 

You don’t know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering that’s how all this started, but you’re dying to see what you taste like on him. 

Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat. 

“So… How’d it compare?” 

Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question. 

“Pardon?”

But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them. 

“To all those thoughts you told me about. How’d I do?” 

You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up. 

“Don’t go fishing for compliments,” you tease, though there’s not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are. 

He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you aren’t sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize you’re flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs. 

You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs. 

“Better,” you whisper. 

You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back. 

And then you’re shocked back into the realization that there’s all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver. 

You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips. 

You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skin— your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants. 

He’s looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension. 

His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. 

So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as he’s been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little. 

But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard. 

But it’s okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up. 

“Will you let me suck it?” 

All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods. 

“Please.” 

It’s a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction. 

He’s begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

You’re still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you don’t want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, you’re also denying yourself, and you’ve been patient for long enough. 

So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go. 

Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You don’t want to stare, and you also don’t want to not look, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable at all with you. 

You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel. 

He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock. 

His little cock. 

It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest you’ve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess. 

And it’s so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing. 

You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here there’s even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.

When you drag your eyes up to him, his head’s thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much you’re going to enjoy this. 

You’ll make him look, one way or another. 

For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention. 

He’s making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head. 

And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until he’s entirely in your mouth. 

It’s not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. That’s when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him. 

You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show. 

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but you’re not in a position to. 

Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more. 

You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool. 

It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere. 

You reach a hand down to touch yourself. You’re still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. You’ve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. You’re sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock. 

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. He’s clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself. 

He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like he’s trying not to but he can’t help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds. 

He says your name. 

You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls. 

He says your name again, and this time it’s urgent, almost panicked. 

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face. 

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face. 

“I’m so okay. I just— did you want me to…? It’s okay if you don’t, I just didn’t want it to be over—”

“Marcus.” 

His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.

“Do you want to fuck me?” 

You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question. 

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” you tell him, “I’ve wanted it for way too long.”

His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe. 

“Yeah? You still want it?” 

His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. 

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.” 

You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away. 

“Can you get on the edge of the bed for me?” 

You can, but not without throwing a cheeky ‘yes sir’ his way. You’re not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of  amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later. 

For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, you’re as comfortable as ever.

The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body. 

He’s so hot. 

It doesn’t help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed. 

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit. 

“Are you ready?”

You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling. 

You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time. 

You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still you’re shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and you’re going to lose your mind if he doesn’t move.

“Oh fuck.”

You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand that’s supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense. 

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

You’re so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; it’s an absolute necessity that he fucks you. 

He curses, and you realize you’ve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and he’s looking at you, your face, like it’s something he’s never seen before. Like he’s shocked you’re here in front of him. 

But his hips are still, and you’re helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally he’s pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles. 

And then in again, almost as slowly, and you’re already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. It’s setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one that’s still tender and alight from your previous orgasm. 

“It’s so fucking good,” you manage to choke out. 

Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh. 

“It is, fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good.”

A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.”

You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display. 

“Yes ma’am.”

Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesn’t let up. 

He fucks you. You try to watch; it’s too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist. 

His neck, the one vein there that’s protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you. 

But you just can’t keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, you’re too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and there’s already stars blooming behind them. 

His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.

“Thank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?” 

Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit. 

“Shit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wanna— fuck— let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.”

His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. You’re clenching wildly around him, you can’t help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight. 

Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and you’re tumbling over the edge. It’s been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, it’s blinding. There’s static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy. 

There’s screaming. 

You’re screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts. 

“That’s it, oh my god, sweetheart, you— fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m— where?”

“In me.”

Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you don’t have any time to elaborate on why that’s not a bad idea. You’re still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and you’re vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene. 

His shout doesn’t quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think you’re still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks. 

He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where they’ve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps. 

His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair. 

“Jesus,” he says.

Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again. 

“Huh?” 

God, how are you ever going to move again? 

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words? 

“What are you talking about?” 

He clears his throat. 

“You like— You squirted?”

You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly. 

“I what?”

You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright. 

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

He’s still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out. 

You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray he’s one of those men that has a mattress protector. You’re more than a little mortified, and the way he’s staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.

“What?” 

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver. 

“I’ve never actually… done that? I would have warned you.”

He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees. 

He doesn’t speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think you’re finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you. 

You’re vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns he’s drawing on your body. 

He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and it’s sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat that’s cooling on your body. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but it’s no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.

It’s languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how you’re both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high. 

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part. 

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle. 

“Ladies first.”

You feel shy now. You can’t imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach. 

“I was just gonna say… That was better than all those times I imagined it.”

You didn’t think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do. 

“It’s never been that good.”

A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest. 

It takes your breath away. Because it’s never been that good for you either, and isn’t that such a perfect coincidence?

You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth. 

“When can we go again?”

#Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro pascal characters #x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike smut #the mentalist

[joelalorian]

Masterlist

Series

Tides of Desire

Complete: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter One - A Prelude to the Open Sea

Chapter Two - The Adventure Begins

Chapter Three - The Cut of One's Jib

Chapter Four - Cut and Run

Chapter Five - Red Sky in Morning

Chapter Six - Edging Forward

Chapter Seven - From Stem to Stern

Chapter Eight - As the Crow Flies

Chapter Nine - Close Quarters

Chapter Ten - On Your Beam Ends

Chapter Eleven - All at Sea

Chapter Twelve - Turn the Corner

Epilogue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader, ongoing

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

Chapter Two: It All Turned Around

Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky

Chapter Five: My whole world came alive

Chapter Six: And I knew my heart wasn't mine

Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'

Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

Chapter Nine: I'd Fall for You Twice if That's What You Wanted

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Petals of Affection

Complete. A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Part I

Part II

Part III

One-shots

Lost Cause

Summary: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree. Oneshot.

Warnings: Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope.

Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

~~~~~~~~~

Fevered Flame (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

#joel miller #joel miller x female reader #the last of us #fanfiction #tlou #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x f!reader #smut #fluff

[mountainsandmayhem]

Just One More, Baby

18+, Minors Do Not Interact Pairing: Pleasure!Dom Pike x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.8k Summary: Just a casual evening with your pleasure dom husband and as many as orgasm as he thinks you can handle. There is zero plot here, people. CW: so many orgasms, light bondage, temperature play, use of pet names (baby, honey, etc.) praise kink (obviously, unless you're new here. In that case; hi, welcome, I have a praise kink), aftercare AN: I need this man more than I need food or oxygen or money. I'm out of my mind over him and I curse the day I decided to watch these random ass episodes of The Mentalist. Friendy reminder that I am phasing out my tag list, so please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on the notifications to stay up to date. Thank you so much for reading, where's my Pike Army? XO Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

The warm oil drizzles over your mound, spreading across your hips and cunt. You let out a pained hiss when it hits your sore and overstimulated clit.

“Ouuchh,” you whine, your breathing shudders. 

“You’ve been such a good girl,” Marcus murmurs, watching the oil as it beads and rolls in every direction. “Just relax.” 

You close your eyes and try to steady your breathing. Relaxing the muscles in your arms and legs that have been pulling at the soft silk restraints for god knows how long as Marcus pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. 

He is still dressed, he had only managed to remove his suit jacket and tie before he started. He has the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled to his elbows, still tucked into the dark blue dress pants you picked up from the dry cleaner yesterday. His belt is still on, too, shoes toed off at some point during his slow torture. 

You, on the other hand, are completely naked. A delicate, white silk tie around your wrists that is then looped through the headboard, stretching your arms above your head. Your ankles are held much in the same way, one tie on each ankle, keeping your legs spread wide.

He’s used every means available to him to make you come tonight; fingers, tongue, your small purple vibrator, a dildo, or a combination of one or two of those things. He’s done everything except fuck you. At some point you lost count of the orgasms, lost track of when one would end and the next would start. 

The oil starts to soothe the dull ache he’s caused at the apex of your thighs. Marcus’s intention is never to cause you pain, but tonight you learned that too much pleasure can feel like torture. 

You let out a content sigh, muscles going gooey and pliant. “There’s my girl,” he says proudly, his strong hands coming to your hips, his thumbs needing the muscles along the crevice of your leg and pelvis. 

He clears his throat gently. “I think I counted sixteen.” 

You smirk and let out a small giggle, eyes still closed as you relax into his touches. He kisses the plush skin along your lower belly. His soft velvety lips are gentle, granted Marcus Pike is always gentle. Yes, he’ll tie you down or make you orgasm so many times you black out, but he’s always soft and warm. Always asking for permissions. Always explaining exactly what’s going to happen before it does - not that you have an option, or want an option if you’re being honest.

“Baby girl?” He mumbles, his breath hitting the oil, warming your most sensitive spots. You shudder, an icy shiver running down your spine at the feel of him. “Think we can get you to twenty?” 

His hands move to massage the tops of your thighs, thumbs crawling closer and closer to your pussy. Your clit twitches at the promise of him giving you another orgasm, that blissful tingle causes the tired and overworked walls of your cunt to flutter. Pleasure followed by a dull painful ache waves across your center and mix of a whine and whimper fills the room.

“What’s the matter, baby?”

His thumbs come to carefully pull apart your puffy outer lips. Watching intently as the oil coats your glistening folds. A moan rumbled in his chest, “Beautiful.” 

“I’m sensitive, Marcus,” you murmur, pulling at the silk ties he has your hands bound above your head with.

“I know, this perfect little pussy has taken so much. And you’ve been so brave and submissive. I’m so proud of you, honey.” He places a light kiss on the patch of hair right above your clit. 

Your orgasm happens so quickly and without him even touching you. A lustful gasp leaves your lips as you shake under him. His voice is full of lustful admiration as he says, “Good job, baby.”

Your muscles tense, hands fisting, as the orgasm rolls through you. You whine his name, equally desperate for the orgasm to end but also for it to never stop. “Just relax, that’s my good girl.” 

“Oh god,” your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. 

“Look at me, darling.” Marcus said sweetly, the soft pads of his thumbs running up and down the slick lips of your pussy. 

You look down at him, the soft expression of his face riddling you with emotions. You can feel the tears prickle behind your eyes. Tears of what you aren’t sure. Happiness, that’s for sure. But also a sense of overwhelm and insatiable need, it’s all mixed together. You can stop it, a hot tear runs down your flushed cheek. 

“It’s ok. I’m right here,” He says softly. “You can do this, baby. Just three more, then I’ll run you a bubble bath and give you my sweat pants and all the cuddles. Can you do that? Can you give me three more?” 

“No,” you say through a shaky breath. He’s trying to kill you, you’re sure of it. And while death by orgasm might sound like a great way to go, your pussy is aching and tired. 

His thumbs stop their ministrations. 

“Do you need to use your safe word?” 

You shake your head, “No.”

He lowers his mouth to your swollen clit, lightly feathers his tongue over the tender bundle of nerves. You pull so hard on the restraints that the delicate silk snaps and your hands card through his hair, pulling him back. He has you on that paper thin line of pain and pleasure, but the slight attention to your puffy clit slices through you. “Nonono - please stop.” 

“Do you need to use your safe word?” He asks again.

You shake your head no.

“Do you need me to go get some ice? Make my tongue nice and cold, then make your pussy feel better?” 

“Yes, please.” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip. 

Marcus stands and removes his belt. “Ok baby, but first, my naughty little girl broke her restraints. Arms up.”

You put your arms back above your head and he expertly loops the belt around your wrists. He leaves the scraps of silk that are still around your delicate wrists and then wraps the belt around the headboard.

He stands beside the bed, looking down at you hungrily. “Fuck, I could torture you for hours,” his eyes flick to the alarm clock across the from you and then back to your flushed face. Smirking a little, he corrects himself. “I already have been, so I guess I should say that I will never be sick of seeing you like this. So submissive and sweet. Listening to my every word. Teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

He runs the back of his hand down your cheek, you keen into his touch and smile at him. “Yes, I’m a good girl, Marcus.” 

He bends down, kissing your forehead and then the tip of your nose before he walks out of the bedroom. You look him up and down, so sexy in his dress pants and white dress shirt, his strong, veiny forearms on display. You had no idea what you were in for when he ditched the tie and suit jacket the moment he walked in the door tonight. But you knew that look. When frustration etched his eyebrows and a hunger flashed in his eyes. You knew he needed an escape, and you knew it came in the form doing exactly as he says.  

Marcus grabs a small bowl and fills it with ice from the freezer. He grabs you a bottle of water and then pops an ice cube in his mouth, letting the frozen water melt on his tongue as he walks back up the stairs. As he re-enters the bedroom he sees you lying there - spread eagle and arms bound, eyes closed peacefully, long lashes resting on your cheeks. Your swollen tits rise and fall, nipples hard and slightly purple from the rose gold clamps he had on them earlier. You look sinful and delicious. He meant what he said, he could do this to you forever and never get sick of it. But as your pleasure dom he knows he’s going to have to stop soon. The folds of your pussy are puffy and red, he sucks the ice cube harder, making it small enough so he can speak. 

“Goddamn,” it comes out as groan. “You’re so fuckin beautiful.” 

You flutter your eyes open, “So are you.” 

You swear he blushes as a shy smile crosses his face. “I’m going to make it all better now, baby. I’m going to use my mouth to make you come again now. My tongue is nice and cool, it should help with that ache.”

He puts the water on the bench at the foot of the bed and then climbs between your legs, placing the bowl of ice on the bed beside your hip. “Are you ready, baby girl?” 

You gulp before whispering, “Yes.” 

His cold tongue licks a slow, flat, languid line from your entrance to your clit. The cooler temperature of his mouth soothes the burning heat between your thighs. 

“Mmmm - Th-thank you, Marcus,” you hum as he repeats the motion with his tongue two, three, four more times. 

He grabs a new ice cube and pops it in his mouth. As he sucks on it, he grabs a second cube and runs it down the right outer lip of your cunt. He hushes you as you cry out and then does the same thing to the left side. The cube in his mouth has melted enough now for him to continue tasting you. He places the flat of his tongue on your clit and presses down, his hand with the ice cube comes to your right nipple. Ice starts to combat the fire in your veins, and as he trails the ice cube around your nipple, his tongue mirrors the pattern on your swollen nub. 

And then it happens again. For the eighteenth time tonight, your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. Your convulse under his cold tongue and as quickly as the orgasm starts it’s over. You’d think after coming this many times in the last two hours that you’d be satisfied and exhausted, but the quickness of that last one leaves you wanting more.

He stills his tongue and lets you grind on him, the ice cube he was trailing along your body has melted. He grabs a fresh one and traces it along your body as you shamelessly hump your husband’s face.

He brings the ice cube to rest right above your mound, the cold water running down your folds, causing you to hiss as it hits your clit. 

Marcus pulls his tongue away quickly to say, “Come on, baby.” He lays his tongue out for you again and you push your hips into him harder. 

“Fuckfuckfuck - Marcus, I - I’m, oh fuuuuuck.”

He slips the ice cube between his tongue and your cunt and you shatter around him.

“Oh god, mmmmm, yes.” Your voice is hoarse, throat dry from the combination of your rapid breathing and incoherent ramblings throughout the night.

He stays still, letting you control your nineteenth orgasm. His name spills from your lips as you circle your hips. The walls of your pussy clench and release around nothing, slowly and deeply, over and over. Sparks of pleasure light behind your eyes. 

“Marcus. Yesyes - oh my god,” your legs start to tremble as you come down the other side of the most intense orgasm you’ve had so far tonight. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing up your hip bone to your stomach, your navel to your sternum, the swell of your breasts to your neck, and finally your lips. “You’re doing so well, baby. Just one more. Can you do just one more for me?” 

You strain your neck to press your lips to his again. Kissing him deeply and slowly. “One more,” you mumble into his lips. 

“I’m going to untie you for this one. I want to feel your fingers tug at my hair as I suck on that perfect little clit while pushing my fingers against that little spot inside of you that drives you absolutely wild. Is that ok, little one?” 

“Mmm,” you hum. Mischievously adding, “Yes, daddy.” 

Marcus laughs flirtatiously as he releases your wrists from his belt and the torn silk ties. “Are you okay, baby?” 

You nod as he guides your arms down and then situates himself between your soft, plush thighs, sitting back on his heels.

“Do you need a drink?” He asks, grabbing the water from the foot of the bed. 

“Yes, please.”

He cracks the lid and then helps you sit, guiding the bottle to your lips. You sip a little, the cool water soothes your throat. Marcus’s brown eyes bore into you, soothing the rest of your body. “One more, baby,” he whispers. 

You hum in agreement before lying back down in the bed. Marcus leaves your ankles restrained as he unbuttons his dress shirt and then tosses it on the floor. You eye his hard chest and slightly soft belly, a line of dark hair that starts at his navel and travels down to his cock, which is rock hard under his dress pants.

He gives you a shy closed lip smile, “Do you need to use your safe word?” 

“No,” you say breathily.

Marcus grabs an ice cube and holds it in his fist, his lips coming to place lingering kisses on your clit. Making out with one of his favourite parts of you. Kissing and kissing, occasionally running his tongue along it before kissing you deeply again. 

Once the ice cube in his hand has melted, he teases at your entrance with two cold fingers. You cry out, as pushes them all the way in and then he curls them forward, turning you into a moaning mess. You wrap your fingers into his hair like he asked, holding his face against you. 

“That’s my girl,” he says between kisses. “So good for me.” 

He sucks your clit into his mouth, pumping his fingers against your g spot. A pained cry passes your lips, “aah, it hurts.” 

“I know, baby. You’re so close.” He whispers encouragingly, pausing the suckling on your clit, keeping his fingers still. 

“I - I can’t.”

“You can do it, baby. You’re almost there. I can feel you clenching me.” He curls his fingers forward slowly. “Come on, my love.” 

“M - Marcus. It hurts, baby. I can’t. I can’t.” You whimper. 

“Relax, baby.” His free hand presses on your lower belly and the pressure behind your navel becomes nearly unbearable. “That’s it, fuck baby. I can feel her fluttering for me. Can feel your orgasm building. You’re amazing, did you know that? Give me number twenty, pretty girl.”

You whimper again, willing your body to relax. Willing for the dull painful ache to blossom into pleasure.

“Good girl. Just relax,” he presses down on your stomach harder, his fingers still cold inside you as they tickle against the front wall of your pussy. 

You tighten your grip in his hair and he hisses at the pain in his scalp before bringing his lips back to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth loudly, lewd sucking noises filling the room, only interrupted by your mumbles of building pleasure. 

He releases your clit, “Let go for me.”

With a final steadying breath it hits you. Your last orgasm sashes over, erasing every thought until all you are is the pleasure Marcus gives you. Your abused pussy flutters weakly around his fingers as he pumps them inside of you. You gasp and squeal as your body breaks out in goosebumps, but simultaneously glistens with a fresh sheen of sweat. 

Marcus slows his fingers and looks up at you through his lashes. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in awe as the involuntary full body twitching of your orgasm starts to slow.

“So…” he kisses your mound.

“...Very…” he stops his fingers and kisses your hip. 

“...Beautiful,” he starts to slowly slip his fingers out and your body goes slack. 

You lay there panting, trying to catch your breath and find your muscles. Marcus unties your ankles and climbs beside you, pulling you into him and tucking your head into his neck. 

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hairline, kissing you softly. “You did so well for me. Twenty orgasms. My good girl.” 

You roll into him tighter and wince when your thighs squeeze together. 

“Aw, baby. Is she sore?” 

You pull back to be able to look at him. “A little, yeah.” 

“Come here,” he pulls you closer. “Just let me hold you a little and then I’ll run you that bubble bath I promised.” 

“Will you come in with me?” You ask sleepily. 

Marcus laughs gently, “Of course. Whatever my baby wants.” 

You nuzzle deeper into his skin and let your eyelids close. Completely and utterly surrounded by your beautiful husband. 

#pedro #pedrohub #pedro is daddy #zaddy pedro #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike smut #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #pleasure dom #pleasuredom!Marcus pike

[pedroshotwifey]

hi hello mi amor 🥹 i'm in my feelings tonight thinking about mi bebe marcus pike 🥴 mostly like... being really good friends and hooking up and kind of gradually becoming fwb but he falls in love like instantly bc of course he does and-

Hey, honey! So sorry this took so long! I kept it short and sweet. Hope you like it! ❤

Pairing: fwb!Marcus Pike x f!reader

W/C: 840

Summary: Can you really just be "friends"?

Rating: Explicit

Toeing the Line

“M-Marcus,” you whimper, back arching as he forces his cock deep inside of you. “Please.” 

You don’t know what you’re begging for at this point. For him to slow down, because you’ve come on his tongue and fingers and cock so many times tonight that you have tears streaming down your cheeks, or more, because you’re so close to falling apart yet again. 

He just huffs a laugh and nuzzles his face to the side of yours. His hips keep thrusting, tauntingly dragging his dick in and out of your soaked pussy as he uses your pinned wrists for leverage. 

“I know, baby,” he coos into your ear. “You’re doing so good, you can take it.” 

Even as your body trembles in exhaustion, you nod for him. You only register your eyes have been closed when you’re surprised as his plush lips cover yours, his tongue prying at your own for entry. You can taste yourself on him as he makes out with you, softly, sensually. It makes you wish he didn’t have you pinned so that you could thread your fingers through his soft hair and hold him closer to you, grant him permission to devour you whole. 

It’s toeing the line of what the two of you claim to be—friends. 

Friends since you met six months ago. Friends who started to hang out outside of work on the weekends. Who started to kiss hello and goodbye. Who started to fuck like rabbits every spare second you had. Neither of you have bothered to define what it is you’re doing, so you touch each other, consume each other as friends. 

But god if your best friend doesn’t fuck you good. Better than you’ve ever had. And you refuse to let your mind wander, to let it ask if it’s because it’s him. 

Marcus doesn’t break the kiss as he uses his free hand to trail down to your clit, rubbing tight and slow circles as your hips buck and your whine into his mouth from overstimulation. You feel him smirk against you. It’s no secret that he enjoys seeing you like this. So fucked out and overstimulated, but refusing to stop. He knows you’re addicted.

He just wishes he knew if you were addicted to him, or the way he makes you feel.

What you haven’t realized is that he’s fallen for you. Hard.

You haven’t seen the way his gaze lingers on you for as long as he can get away with, the way he wears an uncontainable smile when he greets you, and has to hide his frown when you leave. Haven’t noticed how deeply he fucks you recently, how he holds you close and slides into you so slowly, savoring your touch, your scent. 

He’s fallen fast and he’s fallen hard. How could he not? You're so kind and funny, not to mention gorgeous. You look out for him in the office and are always there for him when he needs you. You hold him so gently and give him exactly what he needs without him having to ask. You know him inside and out, just as he knows you. 

He can feel you start to squeeze around him, your tight cunt convulsing as you’re pushed closer to the edge. Heat begins to circle in your abdomen, then spread throughout your body, making you weak and limp and consumed with pure euphoria from your head to your toes. You have to focus more heavily on Marcus’s lips against yours in order to continue. 

It’s dizzying—the haze he manages to put you in. Your head seems to go completely empty every time, only focused on him and how good he’s making you feel. 

He deepens the pressure on your clit, and you dissolve into bliss. You moan deeply into his mouth as your body shakes and your pussy convulses around his cock. He must have freed your hands, because you can suddenly feel flesh beneath your nails, and hear Marcus’s groan as the pain sets him off. He twitches inside of you, his cum painting your walls in thick ropes—finally. 

He slows his thrusts to prolong his pleasure and you crack your eyes open to watch the way his jaw goes slack and his eyelids flutter shut. Heat prickles up into his cheeks and chest, pinking his skin. He clutches your hip with one hand, the other fisting the bedsheets as he lays his forehead between your heaving breasts. 

Your trembling hand comes up to pet his hair, holding him close to you as you both try to cool down despite still being interlocked. You close your eyes, knowing good and well that you’re both going to want to relish in the tender silence for a while. As friends, of course. 

He’s going to confess his feelings tonight. You have no way of knowing that, and he has no way of knowing that you’ve been wishing to hear those words since the day you met him. He doesn’t know that you’re painfully in love with him, too.

******

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#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #pedro pascal smut #smut #pedro pascal characters #fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #pedro pascal fanfic #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike the mentalist #fic request #requested fic #marcus pike fluff #ppcu fanfiction

[pedroscurls]

second chances | pt. 3

Character(s): Marcus Pike x fem!Reader Summary: You and Marcus continue to get to know each other, but the feelings you both have for each other are becoming increasingly difficult to keep it at bay. Word count: 2.1k A/N: All the fluff, y'all!!! The next chapter will get a bit more deeper between these two, so stay tuned! (and also I just want to say that gif of Marcus - Pedro literally stares straight at the camera for a very brief second🫣)   Warning: None.  SERIES MASTERLIST - ultimate masterlist

It’s been a month since you moved in and you and Marcus have developed a morning routine. It helps that you both like to be up early and there have been a few times where he’d come over early enough to eat breakfast with you. You realize that you haven’t yet been inside of his apartment. Whenever you spend time with him, it’s always at your place and while you don’t mind, there is a bit of mystery to him that piques your curiosity. 

He’s sweet. 

He’s kind. 

He’s thoughtful.

He’s handsome. 

But every time you’re with him, you can tell he’s holding a part of himself back, like he has this guard up that makes it so difficult for you to get through. He only shows you part of himself that he wants you to see, but you don’t push him. You don’t ask for more than what he’s willing to share because you’ve been in his position before. 

You’ve had your heart broken before. And it certainly isn’t the greatest feeling knowing that someone you loved didn’t choose you. Marcus doesn’t have to say the words for you to know that that’s why he’s holding himself back. There’s a longing in his deep brown eyes whenever he spaces out, but you never address it. Instead, you focus on just being there for him – with him – because while his guard is up, you’re open and vulnerable. You hope that it shows him just how comfortable and safe you feel around him. 

—

It’s Friday night and Marcus finally gets home at around midnight. He’s exhausted and feeling burnt out. His workdays always start out great because he gets to see you. The routine you both established gets him excited every time he wakes up and he’s always eager to see what kind of outfit you’d be wearing for your class. You’re colorful, expressive, and he can just imagine how fun and engaging you must be while at work. 

Marcus could hear you talk about how much you love your job and your kids for hours. Your passion for teaching is so clearly obvious when you talk about it because he always notices the way your eyes light up, how big your smile gets, and it’s infectious. He can’t help but always smile whenever he’s around you. 

You’re also very different from Lisbon. When he lies awake at night, finding it hard to fall asleep, he compares you to her. He knows he shouldn’t, knows that even thinking about Lisbon always leads to more negative feelings, but he can’t help himself. Marcus had thought that his relationship and his feelings for Lisbon were real and after being married and divorced, he thought she was it. 

He should have known better. 

But when he thinks about Lisbon, you follow soon after. Sometimes at work, he will catch himself thinking about you just because Lisbon crossed his mind. Marcus isn’t sure what to make of it, but he knows that nothing could happen. Getting hurt again is a serious possibility if he were to take a chance with you and he isn’t sure that’s something he wants to risk. 

Marcus gets off the elevator just in time to see you setting a foil-covered plate on his doorstep. You’re wearing a black and red plaid hoodie that’s so large it covers most of your frame. He smiles to himself and then clears his throat quietly, seeing you stand upright and turn around to face him. 

“You know what time it is?” Marcus asks.

“It’s not a school night,” you point out. “I was just dropping off some food in case you didn’t eat dinner.” 

He walks towards you and leans down to grab the plate. “What’d you make?” 

“Lasagna. You will need to warm it up though. I made it when I got home from work.” You reply, looking up at him. “I just remember you telling me this morning that you were going to be home late and since I know you don’t usually cook when you have late nights, I just figured–” you bite your lower lip and realize that you’re talking too much. Again. But when you look up at Marcus, he’s still smiling in your direction. 

“You wanna join me?” 

“It’s a little over midnight,” you say. 

Marcus chuckles. “Thought you said it wasn’t a school night.”

“It isn’t.” you blush. 

“Well then, if you don’t have any other neighbors to drop dinner off to, I’d really like some company.” he teases with a wink.

“Hey!” you say with a quiet laugh. “You’re the only one. I promise.” 

Marcus smiles at that and then unlocks his door. He steps inside and holds the door open for you, watching you step inside. He knows his apartment is clean, but he had been avoiding inviting you to his apartment because of how bleak it was. His apartment is just a place for him to get some rest and eat; it certainly wasn’t a home. At least not in the way your apartment feels whenever he’s there. 

He turns the lights on and leads you to the kitchen. You trail behind him, looking around his apartment and biting your lower lip. It’s like you’re getting a glimpse into his life, a glimpse into what he doesn’t really show you. His walls are bare except for the paintings that you assume came with the place because it doesn’t really seem like it’s his style. His place is much bigger than yours, you notice. The only thing that does seem like he decorated or put thought into it is the bookcase that’s against the wall of his living room. You don’t get much time to veer off and see the variety of books he has displayed because the sound of him opening up a wine bottle catches your attention. 

“How was your week?” Marcus asks, pouring two glasses of white wine and then unwrapping his plate of food to put into the microwave. 

“Fun like always,” you grin. “But I’m ready for the weekend.”

“You have any plans?” 

“Well, I am planning on going to Ikea or doing some shopping for the apartment.” You respond, lifting the glass of wine to your lips. “What about you? How was your week?”

“Busy. Tiring,” Marcus says. He doesn’t know what else there is to say about his job; it pays well, but he certainly doesn’t love it as much as you love teaching. “But I’ve got the weekend off, so it isn’t a school night for me either.” 

Before you could even think about what you’re saying, you quickly blurt out, “Do you wanna come with me to Ikea?” Shaking your head to yourself, you bite your lower lip. “Sorry. I’m sure you have plans–”

Marcus turns to face you, having removed his leather jacket and now in his light grey t-shirt and dark jeans. “I’d love to.” 

Your eyes light up with hope, with excitement and it makes Marcus smile. “Really?” 

Marcus nods and takes the plate of food out of the microwave once it beeps that it’s done. He sets it down on the counter and leans against it, waiting for his food to cool down. “Yes, really. Besides, maybe you can give me some pointers about how to decorate my place. As you can tell, it’s very… bare.” 

You can’t even hear what he’s saying because you’re staring so deep into his brown eyes that you feel like you could just lean in to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to just be in his arms. You want to be closer. You want to know what it’s like to have his lips on you, to feel his hands roam your body, to feel–

“You okay?” he asks, interrupting your thoughts. 

“Sorry, yeah. I’m just excited.” 

Marcus chuckles. “By the way, this needs to be addressed.” He then points to what you’re wearing. “What are you wearing? It literally covers all of you.” 

You grin. “It’s called a blanket hoodie and it’s very comfy.” 

Marcus looks at you from top to bottom, not bothering to hide the fact that he was obviously checking you out. When his eyes settle on your face, though, he notices the way your lower lip is between your lips and there’s a slight pink hue to your cheeks. You’re not looking into his eyes anymore and he gently reaches out and taps the back of your hand. 

“It’s cute,” he says softly. “It suits you.”

You blush even further and look down at his hand as he pulls away. It’s an innocent touch, but it lingers and you find that you want him to touch you even more. Your mind drifts to very inappropriate thoughts as Marcus continues to eat. 

“Yeah right,” you finally respond. 

Marcus chuckles. “It is. Makes me want to get one. You think it’d look cute on me?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood and alleviate the tension that fills the air. 

You smile to yourself and shrug a shoulder. “Hm, I don’t know. I think it takes a certain type of person to pull this off.” 

He lets out another quiet laugh and shakes his head, finishing the rest of the food you packed for him. He leans against the counter and tilts his head. He had a particularly rough day at work, but you’re making it better. Marcus knows it’s late, knows that you both should be heading to bed, but he doesn’t want you to leave just yet. 

“You might be right,” he sighs heavily. “You don’t want me to out-do you.” 

You feign a gasp and gently smack his arm, letting out a quiet giggle. It fills Marcus’s heart and he can’t stop staring at you. Your smile makes his heart flutter and the sound of your laughter filtering his home is something he wants to hear more of. It’s like you belong here. With him. 

And as he’s looking at you, Marcus finds that his resolve is slowly slipping. 

Because he wants so badly to reach out to you and pull you into his arms. 

He wants so badly to feel your lips. 

He wants so badly to just be wanted, to just be chosen, and you always look at him like no one else in the world matters. 

“Maybe we can match,” you tease. “See who truly looks better in it.” 

“It’s gonna be you,” Marcus blurts out. There’s a slight blush on his cheeks and his ears feel hot when you’re looking up at him. 

“Are you flirting with me, Special Agent Marcus Pike?” you tease. 

Marcus chuckles quietly and clears his throat. “You’re telling me that you don’t think you’re good looking?”

You shrug. “I think I’m okay.” 

Marcus scoffs. “You’re beautiful,” he says honestly. “And if I’m overstepping–”

“Thank you,” you interrupt him. His compliment makes the butterflies in your tummy flutter even more and you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare up at him. You’ve had compliments before, but coming from Marcus gives you a different sensation than what you’ve felt before. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome,” you wink.

Marcus smirks to himself and downs the rest of his glass of wine. “So, is this what happens when it’s past midnight and we share a bottle of wine?” 

“What? We be honest with each other?” you laugh quietly. “We’re both just stating the obvious.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “We’re just two good looking people,” Marcus winks. 

“Exactly,” you laugh quietly. You finish your glass of wine and look at the time. You really should get to bed, especially if you both plan on spending the day together. 

“Call it a night?” Marcus asks. 

You nod. “I think so. We should both probably try and get some sleep before we head to the store later.”

“Good idea. Thank you for the dinner.” 

“Thank you for inviting me in,” you tell him. 

Marcus leads you towards the front door and before he can open it, he’s caught off guard when you wrap your arms around him in a loose embrace. He stiffens for a moment before allowing his arms to wrap around you and he realizes just how much he enjoys feeling your body against his. 

“Good night, Marcus,” you say softly. “I’ll see you later today.” 

Marcus nods and gently squeezes you before he pulls away. “Good night. Looking forward to later.” 

You step out of his apartment and walk towards your own. You look over at him and smile, seeing him lean against his doorframe. 

“Just making sure you get home safe,” Marcus calls out. 

Your stomach does flips at that and you want so badly to just run up to him, to be back in his arms. “What a gentleman,” you tease, opening your front door. 

Marcus chuckles and nods in your direction. “Good night, angel.” The pet name slips and he turns around to walk back into his apartment before you could say anything about it. 

You walk into your apartment and shut the door behind you. Letting out a contented sigh, you realize that your feelings for Marcus are only getting stronger.

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taglist: @nabiiturner | @aquanatalie

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x reader #story: second chances

[wardenparker]

First Christmas

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of sex toys/gagging, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cuddling, fluff, picturesque family stuff everywhere. Summary: A whirlwind relationship has led you to marrying Marcus before a lot of traditional landmarks in the dating realm. Now it's time to meet the Pikes, and you'll be doing it on their absolute favorite holiday. Notes: Please enjoy some seasonal fluff! While Marcus and the Pikes are obviously depicted as celebrating Christmas (duh, that's the plot) there aren't any references to the family being Christian, or to reader's religious identity. This is just some good old fashioned all-American Marcus fluff for the holiday 🧡🎄❄

“I talked to my Mom this morning.” Marcus shucks his jacket, buoyed by his news, although he’s had every reason to grin when he’s coming home to you every night. “And I managed to book the last two tickets. Had to get first class, but I used miles, so it wasn’t that bad.” He leans in and drops a kiss on your lips before he turns to hang his coat on the rack. “Figure we fly out a couple of days before Christmas and we can fly home the day after. We only end up needing to take a day or two maximum out of work that way. What do you think?”

“What do I think about three days with your entire extended family when it will be the very first time I’m meeting them all?” Marrying Marcus had been a whirlwind, and while you’re immensely happy together and have no regrets for the situation— it is a little intimidating. Marcus is incredibly close to his family and you are the exact opposite. “Honestly, babe? I’m intimidated. But I’m all in. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure they like me.”

“It’ll be great. They will love you.” Of course there had been a million and one questions when Marcus had called with the news that he was married. That he couldn’t wait to plan a wedding, and that you and he had just decided to go to the court house. “Get the embarrassing stories and baby pics out of the way before the rest of the family descends on the house.”

“Cramming into that twin bed in your Mom’s house is going to be fun,” you tease, a slight snort following your grin as you start taking leftovers out of the fridge to warm up for dinner. Last night’s Chinese take out order was more than a little over the top.

“Just means we get to snuggle really close.” He hums, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle as he presses close. The honeymoon phase hasn’t even begun to fade, and he hopes it never does. “But I think she did trade it for a queen.”

“We’ll still cuddle.” That’s a promise, and you lean back against his chest with a comforted hum that’s so blissful you just let your eyes fall shut and enjoy it. “Though it might be good if she did trade up. A new bed will squeak a hell of a lot less than an old one.”

His cock twitches, but he’s pretty sure that was the entire point of your comment. You love to see how easily you turn him on. “But then we still have to keep you quiet, baby.” He ducks his head and nips at your neck. “Can’t be screaming my name for the entire house to hear.”

Turning your head, you bat your eyelashes at him innocently and make your eyes extra wide. “Should we pack my gag, then?”

“Fuck.” He hisses quietly, twitching against your ass again. “You want to be gagged and fucked hard in my childhood bedroom?” He rasps out.

“Only if there’s really embarrassing posters on the walls.” The evil little teasing giggle that bubbles out of you comes with a full-on grind of your ass against his rapidly hardening cock. It’s not hard to rile each other up, but it is so much fun.

“Want me to show you how hard I would fuck you?” His hands slide under your shirt and cup your tits through the bra you loath and he loves to take off of you.

“Hmmm.” Even pretending to think about it makes you grin harder and you turn around in his arms to wrap your arms around his neck. “The egg rolls take five minutes to warm up in the oven. Think we can get off that fast?”

“You doubt my abilities?” He pouts at you playfully, even as he moves to start unbuttoning your pants. “Baby, I’m hurt.”

“Maybe I just know giving you a challenge always gets results.” Your hands move to his belt as he starts to pull your own pants open.

“Brat.” His grin is infectious as he pushes your pants and panties down over your hips.

“Yeah, and you love it.” You shove the tray in the oven and practically smack the timer in your haste to set it, ready to hop up on the kitchen counter in the idyllic little house you share with your husband and let him fuck the life out of you.

His chuckle is warm and his hands don’t pause as he slides his hand between your thighs to touch you as his other works his belt buckle. “I do love it.” He admits easily.

Whatever clever comeback you have dies on your lips, too focused on your husband’s large hand and quick fingers at the apex of your thighs to do anything but quickly kick off your pants and panties so you can slide back onto the kitchen counter with your legs open.

“Fuck, I love the way you are so eager.” Marcus is always just as eager, but he doesn’t focus on his wants. Having you in front of him demands that you be pleasured and that’s what he’s going to do.

“For you? Always.” It’s been this way between you since the beginning. Since the day he waltzed into your undercover operation posing as your husband who could forge any painting. The spark was immediate and mutual, and soon the lines between role and real life were blurring for both of you. Now, of course, things are less complicated. But the want is no less real.

Marcus hums, leaning in to kiss along your neck like he had quickly discovered you love. Lips and teeth working together to make you moan while his fingers slide inside you.

“Baby.” Managing to moan anything coherent while he’s touching you is a miracle, but you gasp out when he starts to crook his fingers inside the tight walls of your pussy. “Need you, baby. Need you to fill me up.”

“I’m gonna fill you up.” He promises, grinning at the way your jaw is slack when he pulls back to look at you, “just as soon as you cream all over my fingers, baby.”

A whine seems to seep out of your throat unbidden and you glance over at the kitchen timer as your hips rock against his hand. “Four minutes and thirty-two seconds,” you warn with a grin.

“So we have time to have a drink.” He chuckles as he increases the tempo of his fingers as he works them in and out of you.

“Fuck, baby.” Marcus knows exactly how to work you into a frenzy with seemingly zero effort, and he delights in putting that ability on display just as much as he loves taking you apart extra slowly to make you beg. The man is devastatingly talented and you are the happy beneficiary of all that laser focus.

“That’s what I’m gonna do.” He teases. “Fuck you. Been thinking about it all day while working on paperwork.”

Being on your best behaviour at work does mean that you haven’t had him fuck you on his desk yet, but you’ve been craving it. The kitchen counter will have to serve as a substitute for just a little longer, it seems. “Yeah?” You pant, feeling yourself get closer and closer under his expert touch. “Bet you had to stay hidden behind that desk all day so no one would see how hard I make you.”

“Soooo fucking hard.” He agrees, reaching up and squeezing your tit through your shirt and bra. “Just have to think about how I woke you up sliding inside you this morning.”

“Best way to wake up.” Your head falls back, thumping against the kitchen cabinet but you barely notice.

“And I love to see your eyes turn glassy before you even wipe the sleep away.” Marcus curls his fingers up and leans in to press his lips to yours. “Cum for me baby.”

It should be impossible for him to command it like that and yet as soon as the words are out of his mouth you are gasping in pleasure and feeling the coil at the base of your spine pull tight right before the stars explode behind your eyes. Marcus groans as he watches your eyes flutter closed, your head tilting back against the cabinet and your sweet little pussy just soaking his fingers with the slickest, hottest cum he’s ever had the pleasure of feeling. “That’s it, baby, shake for me.”

“So fucking good.” Drawing in that first deep breath after cumming is always like the first breath of fresh air in the morning. As soon as the heaviness lifts from your limbs you’re surging forward to kiss him, wrapping one hand around his cock to draw him in closer and beg silently for him to fuck you.

It’s Marcus’s turn to groan and his hips rock forward, chasing your grip as you pump his cock. “Fuck baby, need you so bad.” He moans into your mouth and shuffles closer, his fingers digging into your hips to drag you closer to the edge of the counter.

No one could ever doubt the passion in your marriage, that is for damn sure, and you lean back on the counter so Marcus can line himself up at your entrance – moaning softly when he starts to push inside. "Fuck I love you so much."

“I love you too.” An undercover op that had meant to be a means to getting Teresa Lisbon – now Jane – off his mind, had ended up being the best thing that ever happened to him. You are the best thing that ever happened. “So fucking much.” He pushes until he’s buried to the hilt and immediately pulling back to rock into you again.

When the two of you are worked up like this it never takes long. For a couple who routinely fuck an average of twice a day, anyone would think that it would be taking longer by now. It's not like you're pent up after a week of not seeing each other or anything. In fact, you see each other constantly —  always doing your best to even line up your lunch breaks whenever you possibly can. No, it's just passion. Plain and simple. Top of FormHe has zero problem slapping his thighs against the counter as he works into you. Panting out your name breathlessly as you clench down on him. “Fuck.”

“That’s it, baby.” With one arm twined around his shoulders and the other holding blindly to the counter, your legs have wrapped around Marcus’s trim waist to encourage every thrust. “Feels so fucking amazing.”

“You—your pussy.” He grunts out, biting his lip and then rocking his hips forward with a particularly harsh thrust.

“It’s all yours.” And with as fiercely as his hips slam into yours, it’s a wonder that your pussy doesn’t ache more than she does. But the only aching you ever seem to feel is from wanting him as close as possible. Like right now.

Every push of his hips is complete bliss, groaning as he leans in and presses his lips to yours. “Love you.”

“Love you.” Even mumbled against his lips it’s so true that it makes your heart swell, and you tilt your hips so he can thrust a little deeper each time. He won’t last much longer and the timer must be almost up anyway. “Cum for me, baby. Fill me up.”

“Rub your clit.” He orders. “Cum for me again. Want you to cum again.”

There is nothing you want more in the world right now than to obey, and in barely a Moment more the two of you are panting and moaning into each other’s kiss, careening toward the edge of pleasure. It’s like magic, the way your fingers immediately make your core seize up around him. That little bit of pressure ripping you over the edge and making you cry out his name.

He tumbles over the edge second later, your shaking legs wrapped tight around his waist and keep him deep inside you while he paints your walls with hot cum. It's the perfect way to unwind after a long day at the office, and you groan without restraint. The kisses you press all over his lips and jaw and neck are instantly giddy, the adrenaline rush of cumming taking over the second the crashing orgasm subsides. Marcus groans, tucking his head into your neck the second he can and chuckling as the timer for the oven starts to buzz. “Perfect timing.”

******

“This is it.” The Pike house is on the corner of two main streets in his Nebraska hometown, where the old Victorian rises up from the sidewalk like a proud pillar of the old community and you can perfectly see Marcus growing up here as a little boy. His wholesome, corn-fed, all-American childhood is perfectly framed here. “Right here.” The warmth in his voice is unmistakable, matching the grin that is on his face as he looks up at the house. “Home sweet home. Mom should be here, waiting to pounce on us.”

“You’re excited.” It’s sweet, and you know he’s missed his family something terrible. “Let’s go inside, baby. Time to introduce your wife to your mother.” His second wife, technically, but that’s neither here nor there. His divorce was years and years ago now, even though she is very much still part of the family.

“She’s going to love you.” The fact that he hasn’t had you two on the phone together is just a matter of scheduling but it will quickly be corrected. “Let’s go.” The engine is cut and he opens the driver door to the rental car that was crazy expensive but worth the autonomy of being able to take you around the town.

Like any son, Marcus doesn’t bother to knock at the door but pushes inside, calling out to his mother as soon as it is half open. The first thing that catches your eye is the line of photos down the staircase to your right, and you shift to look at them all right away. Marcus’s two siblings’ wedding photos. A collage frame of each family featuring their children at different ages. Marcus’s graduation photo from the Academy. And his parents’ wedding photo that is now some forty years old.

“Marc?” The voice rings out from the kitchen and there’s the general clanging of pots and pans as she hustles out the doorway, wiping her hands in the dishrag. “Oh Marc, you made it!”

Julia Pike is a tall and fairly slender woman with grays streaked heavily through her dirty blonde hair and laugh lines that speak to a lifetime of joy with her family. But more than all of those things, she is a hugger. Her arms envelope both you and Marcus as soon as you’re within reach and she hums so happily that anyone could be easily forgiven for confusing her with the family cat. “How was your flight, sweetie? The food was probably terrible, right? Airline food always is. Come in, come in! Leave your things here and I’ll get you some lunch.”

“Hey Mom,” his arms are just as tight around his mother as they are when he hugs you. “We didn’t even risk the airport food, so we are starving.” He pulls back and gives her his best puppy dog eyes. “Please tell me you are making my favorite?”

“Do you think I would just skip out on your first meal home in more than a year and not make you chowder?” She tuts as if she’s insulted and turned to you conspiratorially. “Of all the things in the world, it’s always been corn and potato chowder. Who knows where he picked that up from but the first time I put bacon in it he started begging for it constantly.”

“Because bacon is probably the only thing that beats pancakes.” Marcus leans in and kisses his mother’s cheek. “And Mom makes the best corn and potato chowder you will ever have.” He promises you, letting go of her so he can wrap his arm around your waist. “Why don’t you two go into the kitchen and I’ll bring in the bags?”

“Thanks, honey.” It’s just a squeeze of his hand in yours before he slips back out the door, but you already feel more at ease. His mother is so incredibly sweet.

“Don’t worry a bit, I won’t bite.” Julia promises, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and giggling quietly as she guides you to the kitchen. “I’ll quickly fill you in on his most embarrassing stories.”

“I’m sorry we haven’t been able to meet or talk before.” That’s really the first thing you want to say, knowing how much Marcus loves his family. “It’s all happened very fast, and we’re still wrapping up this case that our departments are working on together.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiles indulgently. If she had been a lesser woman, she would have been upset or insulted by the quick wedding and no communication, but she was secure in her youngest child’s affection. “You’re in the honeymoon phase and who wants to talk to your mother-in-law when you can be cuddling your new spouse?”

"Unfortunately, work doesn't give us a lot of downtime. Even getting a few days off for Christmas was something of a coup d’état." Following her into the kitchen, you look around the well-appointed space and note buttery looking rolls sitting on a baking tray nearby and the whole place smells like absolute heaven. "I really can't thank you enough for having us here a few days early. He's been so excited to come home and see everyone again."

“I have so looked forward to meeting you.” She waves away your thanks. “The way Marcus has talked about you when we chat, I just knew that we would be good friends.”

"He is...completely remarkable." The warmth that rushes to your cheeks at that admission is immediate, but it's honest. You won't shrug it away or apologize for it. "I know our meeting was pretty unconventional, but it was like we knew each other instantly. He's really...he's my best friend, on top of everything else. So I've really been looking forward to meeting all of you. To see how he got to be the amazing man I married." It sounds cheesy, like you're sucking up or something, but it's all so true. And since you are every bit as sentimental as your husband, you don't mind saying it out loud.

“Marcus has always led with his heart.” Julia acknowledges and turns back towards the stove to start dishing up large bowls of the chowder. “It has sometimes led him to heartbreak,” she tells you, turning around with the first bowl. “But somehow I think he’s got it right.”

"I love him so much." And you won't hesitate to shout it from the rooftops, either, which has a smile spreading over his mother's face as she works. Immediately jumping in, you pick up the empty basket beside the tray of rolls and stack them inside. She's set the little kitchen table for the three of you to eat at, so that is where the basket will end up. "I already can't imagine how I ever kept my head on without him, and I can't imagine a single day of my future without him in it."

“The perfect thing about it, is that I think you mean it.” She tells you, handing you a bowl of chowder. “In fact, I would bet money on it. I have a feeling about these things.”

"You're the one he gets it from." Accepting the bowl and setting it down, you take the next from her as well and make sure everything is set out. The opening and closing of the front door says that Marcus has returned and that makes your smile brighten reflexively. "He has a reputation for it at work. His sixth sense."

“Of course he does. He’s a hard worker and he follows his feelings.” She shrugs slightly. “Sometimes it is faulty, but I blame that on the other people involved.”

"People largely follow patterns, but the human ability to be unpredictable really does throw a monkey wrench in case work sometimes," you acknowledge. Of course, it can also be what makes your job so interesting at times. When Marcus comes down the hall to the kitchen you can't help the way you beam, leaning back for a second so he can help his Mom with the last bowl and get a pitcher of something to drink from the refrigerator. "It smells amazing, Mrs. Pike." Until she's given you explicit permission, you're not presuming to call her by her first name. You've known too many friends who got on their mother-in-law's bad side off the bat for being considered too informal or disrespectful because they tried to be friendly.

“That is just the best compliment I’ve ever had.” Julia can’t help but melt slightly as she pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit down. “Now, I won’t insist that you call me ‘Mom’, but I also don’t want you to call me ‘Mrs. Pike’. That’s your name too now. So, please call me Julia?”

"Julia, then." Sitting down at the table with Marcus and his mother feels a hell of a lot more comfortable than you had worried it might be. But so far? So far, so good. "Although, since you mention it, having two Special Agent Pikes at work has been fairly entertaining. We keep accidentally getting each other's deliveries from the mailroom."

She laughs, well aware of the confusion and commotion it would cause. “You might have to start adding your first initial to your mail.” She snorts, shaking her head. “Or…do nothing and use the mail mix up as a good excuse to steal a kiss on the government’s time.”

"That's..." You glance at Marcus and you both grin unapologetically before everyone digs into their lunch. "What we've been doing so far. But once Marcus gets his promotion it won't be a worry anymore. His title will change and the mix-ups will be over."

“I still cannot believe that they have not moved you into the role you went to D.C. for.” Julia huffs, frowning fiercely. It seems like that is just wrong to her and it is. Her baby was supposed to be the head of his department by now, but something about delaying retirement on the outgoing head had pushed back Marcus taking over the role.

“Technically, they have,” you assure her, not wanting his mother to think that Marcus isn’t being fully respected at work. “He is running the task force that he was promised. The decision to move him up to head of the department came after he had already accepted the transfer, so it’s on a different timeline. But it’s all on track. The current department head just wanted to finish out the calendar year and he’ll retire at the end of the month. It’s just a matter of weeks now.”

“Well…that’s good, I suppose.” Like any mother she knows, she’s protective over her children and their lives, even when they’ve long left her nest. “And Marc tells me that you work in another department? How are you enjoying it?”

“I work in the white collar crimes division,” you nod, managing not to moan out loud at your first taste of the soup. No wonder this is Marcus’s favorite, it’s like a giant hug. “Mostly I work on fraud cases. Forgeries are my specialty. Which…is how Marcus and I met. I needed an art consultant on a case I was working on, and he’s the best of the best.”

"He is the best." She beams as only a mother can and grins. "Although, at one point, he wanted nothing more than the be a rock star with his band."

“I keep telling him he should start up again.” The grin you throw your husband is nearly victorious. You just know his mother is going to take your side. “A couple of guys in my department need a new bassist for their band and he would be perfect.”

"If he would enjoy it, I have his old bass in the attic." She supplies immediately. "There is no reason you shouldn't take it back with you. I know it's in good condition, I have to keep Kelly's oldest from sneaking it out of the house every time he comes over."

“What do you think, babe?” It’s entirely up to him, even if he never wants to join another band you still want him to have music in his life. “We can absolutely bring your bass home with us if you want to.”

"If you don't mind." His eyes slide towards his mother again, While it was his bass, it had been a last gift from his father and it was something that he could not take with him when he moved out for good. All of the kids had left the last gifts that he had given them in the house they had lived in with him. A kind of living memorial to a man who could never be replaced.

“It’s totally up to you, honey.” His mother promises. “Your brother has been hinting about his little girl being interested in Grandpa’s baseball gear when she’s old enough, so I think it’s time.”

He mulls it over, taking another spoonful of the chowder as he thinks. "I will take it home." He decides after a Moment. "It would be good to start playing again and one day—" His eyes slide warmly over to you. "Maybe it will be passed down to the next generation of Pike."

Julia raises one manicured eyebrow at that and gladly notes the way your expression turns a little dreamy at the idea. “I take it that topic has been bandied around a little at home?”

"We've talked about it." Marcus admits, setting down his spoon and picking up your hand. "We want to spend a little time together first, and figured that we would return to the conversation when I've settled into my new role." That’s what you agreed upon together, but Marcus won’t deny that if it happens sooner rather than later, he’ll be over the moon.

“I have to say.” The smile she aims at both of you is proud and bright. “It sounds like you’re enjoying being married, and that is half the battle in the beginning.”

"We are, Mom." Marcus agrees easily, squeezing your hand and looking over her with pure adoration in his warm brown eyes. "I had one hell of an example with you and Dad, and I think that we would make both of your proud."

******

Celebrating his long-overdue return to his hometown means that Marcus takes you to his favorite little family restaurant for dinner that night and by the time you’re falling into his bed, you’re both feeling relaxed and incredibly sleepy. Getting to see parts of his past is a window into his soul that you’ve never gotten before, and you curl around him in your pjs with a contended sigh.

Marcus has a habit of stroking your bare back until you fall asleep. Since you’re not sleeping nude tonight, his hand slides under your pajama shirt to touch you. “So what do you think?” He asks softly, wanting to know how you feel about his town where he spent his formative years.

“It’s the perfect little slice of Americana,” you tell him with a grin. “I can absolutely see you running around here as the happiest little kid in the world.”

“I had my teenage angst.” He admits with a chuckle, thinking back to how naive he had been about what was truly heartbreaking. “Like most kids do. Rebelled a little.”

"Grew your hair and became a little rock star?" The pictures of teenage Marcus with long curls and shredded t-shirts didn't last for a very long period of his teenage years, but they definitely seem to be among his most treasured memories.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.” He admits. “Almost got a tattoo. Although I’m lucky I didn’t have a scar when my nose ring came out.”

"I'm sooo bummed I missed that entire phase," you giggle into his side, having now seen a plethora of photos from Marcus's younger years. "I would've been all over you in high school."

“Yeah?” He hums, grinning into the darkness. “You would have been my little groupie?”

“Oh totally.” He sounds so utterly pleased that you giggle. “I would’ve been swooning at your feet.”

“I would have let you.” He admits, his fingers trailing up and down your spine. “Given you a private performance.”

Another giggle becomes a snort, and you rest your chin on Marcus’s chest to look up at him. “Your mother might not have liked me so much as a sixteen-year-old groupie, but I woulda been stuck to you like glue.”

“She was actually pretty cool with boyfriends and girlfriends.” He tells you. “She would have just made sure we were being safe.”

“Mmkay,” you hum and laugh. “So it would have been finding refuge here after my parents forbade me from seeing you anymore. Got it.”

He hums. “I could still impress the parents with my manners.” He promises. “No forbidding going on.”

“I just would have snuck out to see you.” It’s a fun little game of pretend to play, and you press a kiss to his chest. “Nothing could keep me from you, babe. We’re stuck like glue.”

“We are stuck like glue.” He smiles at you, ecstatic about that fact, that he’s gotten it right. “Me and you babe.”

******

On Sunday morning, his siblings and their families descend on the house early. All the Pike kids are morning people, apparently, and even more so when mornings include Christmas movies. The clattering downstairs is what wakes you, and you huff a groan into your husband’s side when you realize he’s silently stroking your back in your sleep. “Early.” You mumble, knowing it’s later than the time you get up for work but early for vacation wake up time.

“I know.” He’s eager to get downstairs, but he’s also eager to stay by your side. “But I know Mom will have coffee and fruit strudels downstairs.”

“Tempting.” But it’s not nearly as tempting as morning kisses, and you shift up the bed to snag some.

Marcus hums, smiling against your lips as he holds you close. “Morning.” He whispers between soft and sweet kisses. Enjoying the intimacy of the moment with you before the chaos begins.

“Morning, my love.” There are few things better than these quiet morning moments, and you savor them when you can. Work days are far too busy for cuddling so weekends are precious and holidays? Even more so.

“I’m so glad you agreed to come.” He admits quietly. “They are crazy and loud, but they are my family and I love them.” He grins. “Almost as much as I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Being held against his chest and wrapped up in bed with him is your safe place, but the morning is calling with loud voices so you place a kiss over his heart and stretch. “So exactly how many of your million cousins are coming today?”

“All of them?” He poses it as question and then laughs. “I think after the news I was bringing my new wife leaked, everyone decided to turn it into a family reunion.”

“Ahhh.” That makes you nod in understanding. “So it’s a really good thing that I packed nice clothes for this trip. Got it.” You had prepared for it, expecting to be a little bit on display, but you know how excited he is to be home. It made you want to work extra hard to make a good impression on his family.

“Don’t worry, they will absolutely love you.” He promises. His hand slides down and he pats your ass. “We need to get up and get the day started though.”

“Come on, handsome.” You haul yourself up with a groan after one more kiss. “Let’s get dressed.”

He chuckles as he watches you grumpily get up. You never like to leave a bed without a few good groans and it’s positively endearing to him.

“My body knows it’s a holiday,” you grumble good naturedly, as if you don’t groan about getting up for about three or four sentences every morning regardless. “It’s protesting.”

“Of course it’s protesting.” He shakes his head, climbing out of the bed with far more enthusiasm and starting to make the bed. “You would sleep for twenty-three hours out of the day if you could.”

“Only since adulthood.” Getting ready together is a nice, soothing little ritual and you pull your clothes out of your suitcase with precision. “When I was younger I could just go, go, go. But now?” You shrug and offer him a smile. “Why wouldn’t I want to be in bed these days? You’re there, too.”

He grins and winks at you. “You know, I think I like your thinking.” He flirts shamelessly with you, enjoying how easy it is.

“My logic is unflappable.” You boast, grinning at him and giggling, mood lifted immensely just by his smile. “But we need to get dressed, sir. You have a football game to play, if I remember my Pike family traditions correctly.”

“That’s true. It’s always best to come to the table with black eyes and bloody noses.” He chuckles and strips off his sleep shirt to pull on a sweatshirt.

“How do you expect me to function properly with the mental image of you being rugged and athletic and then the real image of you shirtless? It’s just unfair.”

He hums, smirking at the pouting tone of your voice and he bites his lip. “You’ll have a good view from the kitchen window.”

“Kitchen window?” Even though you know that’s where you’ll be most of the time — what with his mother loving to cook and his sister Kelly running a restaurant in the nearest city with two of their cousins — you still make noises. “My ass is going to be on that porch with a mug of something warm for a front row view.”

He snorts and walks back over to kiss you before he changes from comfortable boxers to more secure boxer briefs. Less chance of his brother ‘accidentally’ hitting him in the groin again this year. “Don’t worry, I’m sure all of you will be out there at some point.”

"I will be sure to spearhead that viewing party." You promise him before patting his ass with a smirk. "I will be watching very disrespectfully."

"What will I get when I score a touchdown?" He waggles his brows at you suggestively.

"Something that is not family friendly." And that is an absolute promise. "Now come on, handsome. I have a whole lot of Pikes to meet."

"Damnit." Marcus hisses quietly, reaching down to readjust himself in those boxer briefs before he slides on his sweats. "Now I want to go back to bed."

"Love youuuu," you sing-song, sashaying back across the room to your stack of clothes.

******

Downstairs is the general chaos that Marcus had expected and he's halfway down the stairs when he hears his brother Alex shouting. "SHUT UP, stop talking about them! They're coming!"

It throws you into an unexpected fit of giggles, and you have to pause mid-stair to compose yourself before hitting the ground floor just behind Marcus. "Nothing bad, I hope?" You ask, coming around the corner to where the living room, hallway, and kitchen are overflowing with your husband's extended family.

Alex, an older, slightly more rugged version of his younger brother with their mother's nose, grins at you. "Oh, just taking bets on if you were making a baby or freaking out about meeting this nut house of family members." He admits shamelessly.

"I am that dreaded thing known as a Night Owl," you admit with your hand on your heart, as if you were admitting to some dreadful sin. "It takes me a couple of extra minutes to get going in the morning. Nothing nefarious, I am sorry to report."

"Ohhhhh nooooooo, Marc – say it isn't so?" Clutching his hand to his chest, he looks at his brother in horror. Always the comically dramatic one of the bunch, he plays it up for all he's worth considering that the entire family is focused on all of you right now. He grins and winks at you just in case you aren't aware that he's not serious. "Take her back! Take her back to the wife store!"

"No returns." With a smirk and a smothered laugh, you wave your ring in the air —  earning you some whoops and hollers from the assembled women of the Pike family. "Now I'm gonna get some tea, you boys play nice."

"Damn, she's way too good looking for your ugly ass." As soon as you sail by him, Alex grabs Marcus and pulls him in for a bone crushing hug that only brothers can give. "Fuck, it's good to see you."

"We all missed you." His sister Kelly is on the other side of him immediately, smacking Alex's arm away so she can hug their baby brother.

"Miss you too." He laughs, looking over her shoulder as he hugs his favorite sibling. "You, not Alex." He clarifies and grins when his older brother shoots him a bird.

"No one misses Alex," she laughs, sticking her tongue out at the oldest of the Pike siblings with glee. In typical middle child fashion, Kelly had become loud and active and attention-grabbing in her own right. All of which might have also been a survival tactic for having two very individual brothers. "You're good, Marc? Not working too hard? Mom said they still haven't given you your damn promotion."

"It's coming." He promises with a nod of his head. "Right now, I'm just riding out my time as a flunkie so I can spend more time with my gorgeous wife instead of balancing department budgets late into the night." He tells her with a grin as his eyes slide over the kitchen, hoping for a glance of you.

"Ugh," his sister groans, fully teasing. "He's still in the honeymoon period."

"Hope it never ends." Marcus rolls his eyes when he looks back at her, but he's not lying. He hopes your marriage is just as strong as his parents’. They were in love until the day his father passed and still his mother will happily say that he is the love of her life.

"Gross." Alex chimes in, grimacing at his brother for full effect. It doesn't matter that he and Kelly are both happily married to supportive spouses that they love with all their hearts. They have to tease Marcus.

"Yep." Marcus smirks at his older brother. "She gave me cooties." He warns childishly.

"It's supposed to be the other way around, ya know." Alex ruffles Marcus's short hair and needles his younger brother with glee. "You're supposed to give her cooties. Or did you not pay attention in sex ed?"

He takes the ruffling of his hair with only a small groan and chuckles as he dodges another swipe. "Oh, I paid attention." He promises. "I'm a Boy Scout, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Alex rolls his eyes. "You never let us forget. Perfect youngest child with his perfect extracurriculars and now his perfect job." Though the older brother might gripe, they're all very proud of Marcus. It's just more fun to make fun.

"Don't forget, perfect wife." Marcus adds. As much shit as they give him, they were also his biggest support system when he was going through his divorce. They had kept him sane and he loves them for it.

"Do we call this 'the third time's the charm'?" Kelly asks, lightly teasing but so incredibly glad to see their little brother happy again. And happier, if this morning is any indication, than they've seen him with any partner before. "I'm gonna tell her all your most embarrassing stories while you guys are playing football. The ones that Mom doesn't know."

"I've already told her." He lies through his teeth, aware that he's not come close to telling you all his embarrassing stories, but he has to put on a brave front. Any and all fear will be utilized against him if he doesn't stand strong. Shrugging, he pretends to be unconcerned. "So go ahead."

"Gonna call your bluff, little brother," she announces before hustling off to find you in the kitchen.

"Shit." He hisses under his breath, dreading what stories she will spread. Alex chuckles and shakes his head. "You're in for it now, little brother."

The kitchen is a different sort of chaos on this Christmas Eve morning, but the sound of the kids watching A Muppet Christmas Carol in the living room is a welcome soundtrack to all the fuss. "It's their tradition," Julia is explaining to you, talking about the next generation of young cousins and their movie choice. "Their parents and some of the older siblings get in on the lawn football game, but they like to watch Christmas movies all morning until we're ready to break out the stuff to make gingerbread houses after lunch."

“Ohhhhh wifey.” Kelly trills as she floats into the kitchen, stopping by the fridge to pull out the bottles of Prosecco she had put in there when she arrived. “It is my duty as your sister-in-law – the best one – to ply you with alcohol and tell you embarrassing stories about my baby brother.” She grins as she holds up the bottle. “Now, OJ or cranberry juice?”

The laugh that bubbles out of you with Kelly's appearance is honest and light, and you finish your last sip of tea before attempting to speak. "It’s a little too early for alcohol for me, but makes yours with a little bit of both." The suggestion is full of absolute certainty and you add, "Trust me," when she tilts her head at you with curiosity. "One part OJ, one part cranberry, two parts bubbly. It's perfect. I’ll just have equal parts orange juice and cranberry juice for now. That’s also absolutely delicious."

“Alright…sounds pretty good. I’ll give it a try.” Her eyes slide over to Julia and she raises a brow. “Mom? Are you in?” She asks mischievously.

"You two have fun." Julia shakes her head, bowing out in favour of letting her middle child and the family's newest member have some one-on-one time. "I'm going to get lunch in the oven early, I think. So we can all relax a little."

“Of course.” Kelly rolls her eyes and looks at you with a grin. “You’ll love Mom’s lasagna. It’s a tradition.”

"I've heard nothing but amazing things." In fact, Marcus has been raving about his mother's cooking. "I hear it's on the menu at your restaurant, too? The famous family recipe."

Kelly nods and shrugs slightly as she snags two champagne flutes from the cabinet. “Still can’t make it as good as Mom can.” She admits shamelessly.

"That's Mom Magic," you hum, not quite admitting out loud that it's the type of magic you want to have one day.

“Also probably the secret ingredient that she’s not telling me about.” Kelly teases her Mom, knowing there’s no ingredient, but loving to rag on her.

"Patience," Julia tells her definitively as she starts to bustle around the kitchen again. "It's patience. And my kids all love instant gratification."

Kelly snorts as she pours the juices into the glasses. “Of course we do, Mom. Why do you think you have grandkids?”

"Could always use some more!" She sing-songs, glancing in your direction with a smirk before turning back to her task at hand.

“Mom, don’t scare her off by being greedy.” Kelly scolds her mother playfully. “If they want to give you more grandkids, they will do it on their schedule.” It’s important that you understand that they will tease and play but they will never be those obnoxious in-laws that demand you do things their way or give them what they want for your life. It was always what Marcus’s ex-fiancée had claimed, that they were too pushy, when they had just been asking questions about their future.

“It’s okay,” you assure both women, not scared off in the least. “We do want kids, just not quite yet. We’re enjoying the honeymoon period a little too much to want to change anything just yet.”

Even though you’re talking about her brother, Kelly grins and winks at you as she picks up her mimosa and hands you your juice. “Practice makes perfect, right?” She jokes.

It’s not even worth hiding your smirk or the mild embarrassment in your face, since she’s absolutely right. “Something like that,” you agree with burning hot cheeks.

“See? You’ll have more grandbabies in no time, Mom.” Kelly taps her glad to yours. “Welcome to the nut house.” She welcomes you. “We don’t bite…hard.”

If it was his friends instead of his family, you might tease that Marcus does bite hard, but his mother and sister don’t need to know about the tender marks on your inner thighs. “Thank you for having me,” you joke instead. “I’m very glad to join this particular nut house.”

“We are happy to have you.” Julia promises as she carefully covers the massive lasagna in multiple layers of aluminum foil. Not wanting the top to burn. Luckily, she had already put it together the day before so it’s ready to go.

******

You were warned about the football game. You really were. Marcus had tried to impress upon you how over-the-top he gets with his brother and brother-in-law and cousins. You had thought touch football on the front lawn was a sort of cute, insanely all-American tradition to have. Even in the snow it had sounded quaint. Now that they’re halfway through the game, though? You can see the people who really have fun with this tradition are the wives and girlfriends. The group of you are up on the porch with mugs of wassail either shouting encouragements or giggling to yourselves in appreciation of attractive men tackling each other (partially) for your amusement.

Even though it’s colder than hell, the men have nearly all removed their shirts. Panting and sweating as they try to their hardest to beat the shit out of each other for sport.

“I love football.” Alex’s wife chuckles when she comes up beside you and Kelly and hands you both iced gingerbread cookies.

“Pass interference!” Marcus shouts, shaking his head and huffing after his cousin shoved him out of the way. “That’s bullshit!”

“Forgot how to play dirty, Fed?” His cousin laughs it off, having discarded his Omaha Fire Department sweatshirt on the porch railing. “Fight back, Marcus!”

“Aren’t you the one who had to have a pack of peas on your nuts last year?” Marcus taunts back. “Thought you were gonna use those tiny peanuts to make a baby?”

“Twins on the way, baby!” The cousin – Ryan – cheers back, like somehow he was extra virile enough to cause twins, rather than it being entirely up to his wife’s anatomy.

“Alright, alright, focus up assholes.” Alex calls, bringing the two men back into the fold of the game. Good natured smack talk is all part of the fun, of course.

“He’s just mad he can’t throw.” Ryan shouts from the other side, grinning when Alex shoots him a bird. “Most interceptions of all the QBs.”

Shaking off the heckling with a laugh, Marcus waves at you and blows a kiss up to the porch as he jogs by to retake his position. “So you’re Marcus’s new…fiancée?”

You hear the question from elsewhere on the porch and you turn to face the speaker. “Wife.” It’s his cousin Ryan’s pregnant wife, of course, and you steel yourself with a forced smile. Marcus’s cousin Ryan had married his ex-wife years after the divorce. Honestly you can’t quite figure out how the whole family seems okay with it, but they are. “I’m his wife.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widen and her hand stops rubbing her rounded stomach. “That’s— I hadn’t heard! Congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” She actually seems to mean it instead of having some underlying sarcasm, and that soothes you right away. “It was recent. I guess word is still getting around.”

“I’m sure Julia wanted to make a big toast tonight.” She bites her lip and sighs. “I’m Vanessa. I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

“Honestly?” A small laugh bubbles out of you, surprising you both. “I ought to thank you. If you hadn’t divorced him, then I could never have married him.”

Staring at you for a second, she grins back at you. “You’re welcome, then. Part of the cousin-in-law package.” She snorts. “Free of charge, of course.”

While you don’t think Marcus ever would have lied to you about what happened, it seemed a little too straight forward to you. Like maybe he was leaving something out to spare feelings, which is definitely something your sweet and generally gentle husband would do. “I hope it really was as painless as Marcus says.”

“Oh, Marcus was – is – amazing.” Vanessa insists immediately, having enough affection for Marcus that she is still willing and able to come to his defense. “We met freshman year of college, decided it was love, and didn’t have a clue what love really was.” She shakes her head. “We adore each other, just— as friends and not partners.”

“I admit, I couldn’t really understand why the whole family seemed totally fine with everything.” Deciding to be honest, you just shrug and take a sip of wassail. “But it only takes thirty seconds to realize that there’s no ill will, and that’s…it’s a big comfort.”

“I met Ryan when I was working on my masters.” Vanessa admits with a sheepish grin. “He had been in the military and deployed when I was with Marcus. I didn’t even know until we were talking about meeting the folks.”

“It would have been a very awkward surprise.” Being able to laugh together is a relief, one that you’re not going to take for granted at all. “I’m glad to see that everyone has ended up happy. That’s so rarely the way, and it’s a shame.”

“It is a shame and I hated that Marcus was having a rough go for a while.” She frowns fiercely and shakes her head. “I don’t know what that Lisbon lady was thinking but she could have done so much better breaking things off with him.”

“She doesn’t have the greatest reputation around the office.” You admit, though the whispers have gotten to you through backways, and only since you started seeing Marcus so you’re sure you only hear the bad stuff. “Either way, everyone is happy. That’s what matters.”

Vanessa nods after a moment, her frown turning into a smile. “I understand if you find it odd, or don’t like me on the principle that I’ve slept with your husband, but I hope we can be friends.”

"It doesn't make any sense to be upset with you over something that happened years before Marcus and I ever even met." Putting your hand out to her, the offer of a handshake is your formal show of a truce. No hard feelings. Not from your end. "I'm happy to be friends."

“Well, that went better than I ever hoped.” Amy admits, coming out of the kitchen with a fresh bottle of Prosecco. “Top off on mimosas, anyone? The juice content is getting a little high.”

A few people around the porch take her up on the offer, but you politely shake your head and decide to stick with wassail. The game seems to be wrapping up as well, which means it will soon be time to do the traditional Pike family Christmas Eve gift exchange before dinner. At some point Marcus's mother had read about the Icelandic tradition of receiving a book to read on Christmas Eve and loved it so much that it has become tradition.

“Whoever gets ’Beautiful Secret’….” Vanessa hums, waggling her eyebrows. “You’re welcome.”

"Welcome to the real tradition," Kelly jokes, looping her arm through yours as the group from the porch starts to pour back into the house in advance of the football players. "Most of the books exchanged between the adult members of the family are a little...saucy."

“Mom pretends she doesn’t know any of them.” Amy snorts, grinning knowingly. “But that woman has a stash of trashy romance novels from the seventies in the attics and somehow, those boxes are multiplying.”

"Marcus clued me in," you promise, following your two sisters-in-law inside. "I brought my best offering, I promise." The choice you made was very specific, and really has one recipient in mind. Even thinking about it just makes you nervous for what’s to come.

“Of course he did.” There’s a grin tossed your way. “Marcus was the one who was always reading Mom’s books when she wasn’t looking.”

"I'm not even mad about it." A laugh bubbles out of you that you don't bother to stifle, and you shrug. "It's purely educational for him, I swear."

“Ugh, I don’t want to know about my brother’s bedroom habits.” His sister shudders playfully before she points her finger at you. “As long as he’s taking care of you.”

“Oh, I promise.” He’s more than taking care of you. Marcus treats you like a queen. But Kelly doesn’t want to know that so you just smile and let the happy, hazy expression on your face do the talking for you.

“Ohhhhhhh.” All the women in the kitchen making a knowing noise and grin at you. “That answers that.”

“Answers what?” The oldest Pike sibling is the one to lead the charge into the kitchen and Alex makes his way over to his wife to kiss her before going for a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator.

“If your brother is taking care of his responsibilities.” The kiss is accompanied by a cheeky grin.

“I thought you couldn’t talk about the case yet?” Alex looks back at Marcus, who comes into the kitchen behind him.

Marcus frowns in confusion and props his hands on his hips as he catches his breath. “Huh?”

“Not that,” you laugh, reaching to give your sweaty husband a hug. “We were just talking about the book exchange and got a little off-topic.”

“Oh?” He eyes his sister and sister-in-law with playful suspicion. “Don’t believe a word they say.” He jokes.

“Sure, honey.” You snicker lightly. “But they should believe me.”

“Of course.” He scoffs, leaning in and dropping a soft kiss on your lips with a grin. “Federal agents are held up to a high standard.”

“Yes, we absolutely are.” It earns him another kiss, and those familiar butterflies in your belly that have been so active lately swell up again at just how much you love him.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower.” Marcus tells you. “Kicking ass made me sweaty.” He grins again.

“Hurry back.” Partly because you miss having him at your side, but also because it’s almost time for the book exchange, and you’re just as excited as you after nervous for that.

Marcus winks. “Of course, sweetheart. Ten minutes, tops.”

“Then we’ll start the book exchange in ten minutes.” His mother decides. And the kids can go first, just in case he takes a few extra minutes.”

“And so they are reading.” Vanessa snorts. “Less likely to pay attention to our books.”

“Probably better for everyone,” you agree, offering a smile and a knowing laugh.

******

Marcus is true to his word, bouncing down the stairs with wet hair and fresh clothes nine minutes later. The spicy, musky cologne he’s wearing is one that you picked for him and he loves it. “I’m back. So stop talking about me.”

“It’s only good things, babe.” When he plops down beside you in the living room window seat, he has a wrapped gift in his hand that looks like the size of a standard novel and it makes the thick volume in your lap feel even heavier. No turning back now…you remind yourself silently.

Mistaking your slightly tighter grip on the book as nerves, Marcus reaches over and takes your hand. “They love you, babe.” He whispers confidently. “My brother was already telling me he likes you more than he likes me.” It was a joke, but it makes him happy that you are so easily accepted into the fold.

“Alex seems easily swayed,” you tease, leaning into Marcus’s side. “All I had to do was promise to listen to all of his favorite embarrassing stories about you.”

“Thanks, creep.” Marcus scowls at Alex, pretending to be mad while his brother hams it up. “Anytime man!”

“Alright, alright.” Julia comes back into the living room with her own parcel in her hands. “Kiddos first. Everybody circle up!” The grandkids and cousins scramble to comply, all sitting around together knee to knee after strategically choosing who to sit next to like their lives depend on it. When Grandma Julia gives the word, everyone passes the book in their hands to the person to their left.

“Now. Exchange the book with the person across from you.” Julia grins as the shuffle starts.The kids eagerly comply, giggling gleefully, and then again when Julia tells them to pass their books two people to the right this time. Around and around, the books pass, each kid squealing when the brightly colored package they want gets closer. “Alright just two more moves.” She warns. The books get passed across the circle diagonally and then once more three people to the left before Julia says to go ahead and open their gifts, and then she turns to the adults with a grin. “Ours is less complicated,” she promises. She likes to get the kids riled up but the adults are always already so tired that she just turns on a Christmas song and announces that the game is ‘musical books’. “Just pass it to the right until I tell you to stop or the song ends.” White Christmas begins to play and you anxiously hand your wrapped book over to Marcus as they begin to go around the circle.

Marcus grins as the groaning from the adults starts. The jokes and the laughter as they try to shove the books into the person next them as fast as they can. “It’s fun!” He promises you.

It is fun. Or it would be, if you weren’t praying that his mother remembered her end of the deal that you made last night after Marcus had shooed you both out of the kitchen to wash up after dinner. You had admitted that your book gift was specifically for your husband and she had assured you that she would make sure it ended up in his hands. You just hope she sticks to that.

“Okaaaaaaaay.” Julia is watching the book like a hawk. Making sure that it’s close. “Aaaand…stop!” She orders.

Your heart leaps when the large book ends up in Marcus’s hands, and you breathe a deep sigh of relief. “Everybody open up!” Kelly laughs excitedly, but you can’t. Frozen in your seat beside your husband, you watch as he peels the carefully folded and taped wrapping paper to expose the bright yellow cover of the book you selected for him. At this point you’re just holding your breath, not realizing the entire room is watching you.

Marcus reads the book’s title and frowns for a moment. This was your gift. “I— babe?” He sputters, looking up at you with the most hopeful expression on his face.

“Open it,” you murmur softly, already starting to tear up at the light in his eyes.

“But you said—” he doesn’t want to admit how he had wished you had said you were ready when you kept saying it wasn’t the right time, but he wasn’t going to push you. “Okay.” Opening the book, he finally looks away from you.

The dated sonogram is staring him in the face when he pulls open the cover of We’re Pregnant! The First Time Dad’s Pregnancy Handbook accompanied by a handwritten note in the deep blue ink of your favourite pen.

“Meeting you was a surprise, falling in love with you was as easy as breathing. Marrying you came like wildfire, and now being parents is our next great adventure. The tiniest Agent Pike is expected in July.”

“Oh my God.” Marcus chokes out, barely able to breathe as he stares at the tiny little nugget on the picture. “Babe…we’re gonna be parents.” It hits him and the book is dropped into his lap as he surges forward to kiss you.

The entire crowd of Marcus’s family around you have exploded into a ruckus of gasps and shouts and cheering, but your world has narrowed down only to him. You’ve been sitting on this secret for two while weeks and barely managed to contain your own excitement. Sure, you had said you wanted to wait. To enjoy being married first. But that baby was having none of it. It bypassed your birth control like a champ, and from the moment your doctor told you it wasn’t stress or a seasonal flu running you down, you’ve been ecstatic.

“Baby, baby.” Marcus can’t help but giggle and grin against your lips as he kisses you over and over again. “I love you. So much. I can’t—”

“Breathe, baby.” And yet you can’t help giggling, breathless right along with him. “Can’t have you hyperventilating on me. We’re gonna have to get through a whole lot in the next seven months.”

“I— I thought you wanted to wait.” He shakes his head, trying to understand when this happened, how. Even if he logistically knows how.

“I thought I wanted to wait, too.” You shrug, though, laughing through giddy tears. “But I’m so excited, honey. I can’t believe I actually managed to keep it a secret.”

“Oh my God.” Marcus pulls you close, everyone around him fading to the background as he focuses on you. “I can’t believe you did either.” He admits, unable to stop beaming at you. “This is— you can’t ever top this Christmas present.” He decides with a laugh.

“Nope. Never.” Wrapped up in him is exactly where you want to be, but first you wipe the tears from under his eyes and press kisses to his cheeks. “But I have no problem with our first Christmas being our best.”

“I love you so much.” Marcus can’t even stop himself from caressing your stomach, in awe of the knowledge there’s your baby inside.

“I love you, too.” You’ve already lost track of how many times you’ve had your hand on your unchanged stomach since you found out about the baby, and you know that that’s only going to increase now that you can do it together. “And I love this little peanut so damn much.”

“You’re gonna be a Mom.” He chuckles. “And I’m gonna be a Dad.” He’s always wanted to be the father that his own was. Continuing the legacy of Pike dads.

“Merry Christmas, love.” Murmured against his lips, you kiss him one more time before his whole family descends on you with shrieked glee and hugs and a deluge of congratulations. Your first Christmas with the Pikes will probably never be topped, but that’s okay. It’s the perfect next step in your perfectly imperfect life.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #pure fluff #Christmas fic #all-American softie #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic

[ravensmadreads]

Unhinged totally unasked for thots about Riding Pedro Boys

Authors Note: So this came from me chugging entirely too many energy drinks and then projectile vomiting in Taylors inbox. I'd like to warn you that: English isn't my first language, I have never written smut before, I'm not a real writer, and also I'm trash goblin levels of unhinged about this. That being said; Enjoy and uhh. Forgive me Fandom

JAVIER PEÑA

Javier Pena doesn't let you do it.

Don't @ me LISTEN! (YES I STARTED OFF WITH A CONTROVERSIAL THOT FUCKING BITE ME.)

That man does not have the time, or the patience, or the good sense (the sense is at the other end) to let you ride. He needs the control okay? And sometimes it's not even about the control ! It's the frustration. It piles and piles and piles until he snaps. He needs to do. He will bend you over and work his frustration away until he has had enough and you let him because he needs it. (And lets be real he makes it worth your while every single time)

BUT. When he finally fucking retires, and gets a ranch, and breaths air not tinged with the smells of death, cigarettes and guns for the first time in however many years, and maybe drinks some fucking water, he takes you out on a date. He fumbles through the entire thing, panics because he thinks he blew it, still manages to get you home, gets ridden for the first time in like 6 years, and can't walk straight for an entire day and stammers every time someone asks him why.

JAVIER GUTIERREZ

Javi G loves it. He loves watching you. Gets all puppy dog wide eyed (remember the pool scene face??? Thats it.) and you have to really focus because his look of straight up wonder and awe and bright eyed eagerness makes you want to cry. He's panting like he's running a marathon, running his big hands EVERYWHERE he can reach. He makes you feel worshipped and adored and so very very loved. Thanks you after. For being so amazing, and so wonderful to him, and thanks the universe that he found you. Cause he's sap. You definitely cry after.

JOEL MILLER

(Watch me be controversial again) Joel is fucking tired okay? He has old man bones and creaky joints and his back is achy. Patrol was agony, Jesse wouldn't shut up the entire time, and Tommy was giving him shit, and he has no energy to drill anyone into the mattress (as much as we all want him to). He's just plain tired. He likes you on top. Likes it slow (like a roast chicken on a sunday slow). Enjoys the gradual build up, likes to lean back, watch with half open eyes as you take your time. Wants to indulge in something beautiful at the end of the world, and that something is you. He makes sexy grunting noises, mutters a whole lot of praise ~and filth~ and just y'know. Savours it. 🫠🫠🫠 savours you. 🫠

DIETER BRAVO

Dieter is a maniac. (Leave him alone he has adhd!!) He can't still still for the life of him so you best believe he changes positions 6 times and the only way you're getting to ride is if you're also putting some weight elsewhere. To hold him down! You squeeze his neck once and he MELTS. INSTANTLY. Loses all sense. Starts babbling and whimpering and making extremely pathetic noises. Will definitely buck up and whine. PRAISES YOU. BEGGING. LOUD NOISES.

MAX PHILLIPS

Max is a heathen. He just likes watching you bounce. That's it. That's the post :p

MARCUS PIKE

Marcus P is a romantic. He will be doing the whole "lean forward and try to get kisses in between" while also "moaning and maintaining eye contact" and he's holding you so tight , squeezing your sides and also muttering declarations of love. About how he wants a life with you, and a family, and a home, and a future. How he's going to "make you so happy baby, I promise I will, I swear to you". Doesn't let you off for from on top of him for atleast a half hour after; kissing all over your face and rubbing your back and petting your hair "I meant all of it sweetheart. I want all of you." shsbzgwgsvsg ilovehimsomuch and I've only ever seen gifsets of this man what is wrong with me

MARCUS MORENO

Marcus M is A MENACE. He wears his stupid glasses, and has his stupid shirt off, while he does stupid taxes/meeting plans in bed. You keep throwing side glances and getting increasingly wound up and he just has this gentle smirk but he's mostly ignoring you. You sidle up to him and maybe start kissing his jaw, laying gentle pecks down his neck, and he's still fukcungh working "Baby. I need to finish this. I'm sorry, you need to wait." But that smirk is still there and it's driving you crazy and maybe you keep kissing until you reach his *coughs* and then you're working on getting him interested. You can still hear the fucking pen scratching though and so you go deeper, and he raises an eyebrow. "be good now honey" You're settling in his lap and he has you sitting there until he has finished his paperwork with you whimpering and trying not to squirm because you want to be good you really do and you know he'll make it so much better but he feels so good and when he's finally finally done you get to move but you're so wound up you can't pull yourself together enough to find a rhythm and you're nearly in tears and he has to grip your sides and murmur instructions in your ear and help you until you're satisfied and just when you think he's done, and about to flip you over, he adjusts his grip and starts moving from underneath you until you're crying and he's finished ~which doesnt happen until you've come 2 more times~

DAVE YORK

Dave. Oh my gosh Dave. Dave is a strict dom if ever there was one. With him it's a punishment. He'll tell you to hold off until he's done which is freaking impossible with how deep he gets, and how he likes to warm up his hands on your butt while you're trying desperately to hold onto that last thread of control. He is muttering absolute filth, holding your arms behind your back with one hand while the other is either laying smack after smack or rubbing you furiously all the while he's got the smuggest look. "Don't you dare baby. Be a good girl now. Listen and obey for once". But you can't because he's not fair and he knows it. And when you do finally fall apart he's clenching his teeth trying to hold back himself and his hands are holding you up as you gasp his name like it's the only word you know. He's running his hands down your back and kissing you softly and helping you catch your breath and when you finally get your heart to stop pounding and look up at him, he's watching you with this dangerously soft smile and he goes "oh you're in for it now aren't you honey?" and kisses your forehead while you try not to whimper.

FRANKIE MORALES

Frankie is a soft boy. He loves it. Craves it. He loves giving up control. Wants you to tie him up and have your way until he has no thoughts left in that pretty little head. He is swearing like an absolute sailor the entire time, calling you ma'am, begging to be released so he can kiss you and touch you, absolutely nearly breaks the head board once he was so desperate. Wants to be edged but also is the biggest WIMP about it. Will pout and swear and beg and plead but then want you to deny him again. Will definitely be mumbling absolute nonsense once you're done. Needs all the aftercare. Blushes pink when he gets it. Wraps himself around you like a HUGE koala bear after. ~and returns the edging favour 3 times over when he gets in his Captain Francisco Morales Mood~

JACK DANIELS

BONUS TWO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT and tumblr won't let me put gifs for:

Jack makes every single cowboy joke known to man. You have to put your hand on his mouth to get him to shut the hell up. His eyes get all glassy when you do. He puts his hat on top of your head and busies himself in your neck (dual benefits: A. He shuts up and B. HICKIES) will definitely drag you on top of him in his Bronco (he likes to show off) will pull up on the side of the road almost 70% of the times you drive together. Bites you over your clothes. Loves the way you grab desperately at this leather jacket. Definitely makes you bend over and 'clean up the mess sugar' before driving like the hounds of hell are after him all the way back home and doing it all over again because "we gotta make you a mama now love"

PERO TOVAR

Pero got married after he came back and retired as a sell sword. His wife is a soft but sassy thing who's a little (read: not at all, she returns his snark twice over) intimidated by him but also thinks he's a good man because he saved her village from raiders. She has seen him grumble and snark at but then also share his food with the orphans who works at the village inn. She's inexperienced (let me live my victorian life) and he doesn't really think he deserves her but also he's not so much an idiot to say no to someone like her. She's the village "healer" and he met her when he got stabbed by one of the raiders (arm wound: not serious.) He has to teach her. She gets shy and flustered, which is a total 180 from her sassy self, and Pero loves it. She makes the most amazing sounds that have him thinking that maybe he did something right in his life to end up in her arms. She wants to please her new husband and asks her married friends for advice and they tell her about this new position. So she asks him, stuttering and tripping over words, if she could try something she heard about? From a friend? She straddles him and Pero loses his mind. He's closing his eyes and clenching his jaw so hard and she's whimpering in the most DELICIOUS way and he's trying so hard to hold back and let her take her pace and she's so worried "am I not doing it right?" Pero has to take 3 deep breaths before he's centred enough to answer and then he helps her. Puts his hands on her hips to guide her. Puts one of her hands on his shoulder "steady now pequenita" and puts the other low on her belly and presses in so she can feel him. Loves the way she cries out. Bends forward to leave little marks everywhere he can reach. She's scrambling at his chest, leaving nail marks he loves, and finally grabbing his hair and pulling until he groans. And when they're both done and sated and sweaty he kisses her, looks her in the eye and winks. "I'm going to have to go thank your friend now, mi esposa."

DIN DJARIN

Din and you dont have time. The razor crest is finally in hyperspace, you got shot at for the 50th time in 2 weeks, (because Murphys Law seems to be the only law Mando never breaks), you're exhausted, sweaty, and the giggly green monster of chaos only made you chase him down from the top of a weapons cabinet twice before he finally decided to take a nap. You're frustrated, and in desperate need of a shower, and a nap, but also you can't get the image of Mando fighting out of your head. Before you know it, the hormones have taken over and you're attacking him in the pilot seat. The bucket is off (I refuse to look at my own reflection in the tin cans helmet while we do the do), he's got you arching into him, your shirt is half torn from the top because Din refuses to wait for "so many fucking buttons Meshla" the gloved hand is squeezing the back of your neck, his mouth is on your chest, his other hand (you only managed to get one glove off) is splayed out on your back. You're riding him like you're trying to break him and his thigh holster? thing (do i look like i can figure out what they're called?) is digging marks into your skin but you're too turned on to care. It's frantic, it's messy, you're PRAYING the tiny green menace stays asleep as you do your best to muffle your sounds. The refresher isn't big enough for a round two, (you still do your best), and your legs feel like jelly, when you finally pass out; curled up on top of the human space heater while he hums Mando'a in your ear.

*****

TAGGING: @chronically-ghosted (you are a menace but ily)

@fuckyeahdindjarin (here I go trying that writing thing again, stop me pls)

#raven writes #i apologize for all of this #idk what came over me #i was possessed #and taylor refused to sedate me #javier pena x reader #dieter bravo x reader #javier gutierrez x reader #joel miller x reader #marcus moreno x reader #marcus pike x reader #dave york x reader #pero tovar x reader #din djarin x reader #max phillips x reader #frankie morales x reader #jack daniels x reader

[morallyinept]

H I M - A Marcus Pike One Shot

Summary: A lazy day spent making love and sexing it up in the sheets with your partner, Marcus Pike. That's it. There's no plot.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.9k

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶 "It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Waenings/Triggers: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!) /love making/sex/oral M & F receiving/fingering/romance/desire/fluff/soft/Marcus just being the best sweet doof ever.

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

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

Author’s Note: Schmaltzy love fest in the sheets with Special Agent Pike, anyone?? Hell to the yes. My contribution to the Pike Puddle. 🫠

Enjoy! 🖤

MASTERLIST | MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST

It’s a lazy kind of day.

One of those that are just written off completely. For nothing other than to chill and do absolutely nothing else.

You lay in bed, stretching, as you watch the silhouette of him linger on the balcony under the glare of the morning sun in just his boxers.

You can hear him murmuring on the phone and the occasional sound of his melodic chuckling flows from his mouth obscenely.

It leaves tingles to barb on your skin as you lay there watching him, thinking about him, in the softness of the sheets.

Thinking about how much you’ve missed him whilst he’s been invested in the case. Lots of late nights, and you’d seen the exhaustion settle in under his eyes each day, puffing them out a little. Endure him falling asleep on your shoulder halfway through a movie with his supper half eaten, balanced precariously in his lap.

Thinking about how, now it’s all solved and the perp behind bars, he seems back to himself again. The old, cheery Marcus whose smile lights up his whole face.

Thinking about how much you want him again as you spy his shapely behind in his underwear as he paces gently.

He flashes you a glimpse of his soft bulge as he turns mid-conversation. You bite your lips feeling that wanton heat lick at your skin.

His eyes glance in and he smiles at you; those light crinkles around his eyes lighting them up further somehow, before wandering towards the balcony edge again to speak a little more animatedly.

You stare like a letch at his butt pushed out as he leans on his elbow.

You sink into the comfort of the mattress and stretch, enjoying the tingly pulse between your legs, wondering what to do today, when Marcus walks back in. He pulls the balcony door behind him, leaving it open with a small gap and a pleasantly warm breeze follows him for company.

His warm cocoa eyes meet yours and you smile knowing instantly what you want to do today.

Him. I’ll do him all day.

Marcus tosses his phone on the bedside table and swings his long legs back into the bed. His skin feels snug from the outside heat already in the air and so smooth as he envelopes you from behind.

“Who was that?” You murmur to him, dreamily.

“Cho. He has some files he wants me to look at for a new case.” He replies in that enigmatic tincture of his voice. Soft, yet heavy. “Told him I’ll take a look when I get back. I’m having my vacation time.” He nestles his nose against the back of your neck and hums out contentedly.

“Good,” you say with a smile as you feel his arms pull you closer into his body. “I’m not letting you leave this bed all week, Agent.”

“Is that so?” Marcus questions; his voice strangled by the little kisses he plants down the back of your neck and trails them all over the globe of your shoulder. Planting daisies as he roots them and watches them bloom.

"Mmhm. I'll cuff you here if I have to."

"Promises, promises..." He snickers through his nose.

You shuffle around and meet his entrancing lips with a giggle. His tongue, slipping gently into your mouth, swirls around your own slowly, teasing you with tender smooches on the end of it as his hand scoops around the nape of your neck and crushes you closer to him.

Marcus could kiss you forever like this, passionately and deep and never surface for air. He could die in your arms and be contagiously happy.

Your noses brush together as you look into his molten brown eyes and wonder how the fuck you got so lucky.

"What are you looking at?" You tease, biting your lip.

"You," he says, leaning in to plant more gluttonous smooches over your face.

Your fingers traverse his chin and you can feel the slight graze of stubble wanting to grow through his usually smooth pores. He shuffles his hips forward, hooking his leg around you and finds comfort in getting closer to you still.

“You’re so beautiful,” Marcus breathes out as he trails his thick fingers across your skin and feels you shudder in response.

"You're so full of it," you grin and he snorts, laughing and it's fucking glorious. The way his eyes crinkle like a Shar-Pei's folds, and his smile blinds the room with a solar flare.

But when he says it, you really feel it as he looks at you with a sincere awe and splendour rooted inside of his coffee roast peepers.

You kiss him again, silencing his guffaws and he replaces them with little yearning moans.

You can hear his breathing change; deep inhalations through his nose and out through his plush mouth into you as they intensify in speed and depth as you touch and map his body.

Your hands run across his broad shoulders and down his muscular arms; your safe place inside of his strong, protective grip, and he’ll always hold you in them and keep you secure.

"So perfect," he croons through more gleaming smiles at you. More kisses are peppered on your cheeks, your neck, your lips.

You smile at his words, warming and feeling like goo as he makes you utterly melt with his devoted passion. You can feel his large, swamping hands stroke and caress your skin gently, leaving goose bumps wherever they go. Sweeping across your arms, down your back and cupping your ass cheeks fondly.

He's so fucking beautiful; a handsome dream come true. Lost inside his mouth, like falling into a Marcus soaked candy land, as your kissing intensifies, you can feel him becoming more excited.

Feel him stiffen, pressed against your inner thigh, and it has a wonderful effect on your own sex organs too. He ruts gently into your hips with his; rubbing himself against you as you swallow small feral grunts from him down into your stomach.

You roll, your limbs entwined, and lie on top of him now. You’re on your knees but draped across his bare chest and kiss him furthermore. You want to make him feel loved and wanted, because he absolutely is.

Marcus touches your face, his thumbs sweeping across your cheeks and his fingers winding inside your hair as he groans.

He reaches down and grabs a firm hold of your ass, squeezing those meaty cheeks and you gasp, giggling as he slaps it gently.

You bite your lip as his eyes blaze into yours. He knows you love it when he swats you playfully like this.

“Love this ass,” Marcus smirks through puckered lips.

“Oh yeah?” You giggle as you feel him rubbing your cheeks lavishly.

“Mhm...” He says reaching up and kissing you again.

"Want you to have it," you say, smirking. A hot wave creeping over your skin at the thought if it. At the thought of him claiming the one piece of you no-one else has.

"Fuck," he grunts. "Oh, I'm going to, one day. But we'll work up to that, baby." He smiles reassuringly. "There's no rush."

"I know," you smile.

"Whenever you're ready, okay?"

You nod, and slowly, he begins to undress you, pulling up your camisole you’ve slept in and admiring your skin with strangled gasps as it’s revealed to him.

Warm, puffy nipples nestled inside your swollen areolas greet him, and he can’t help but want to taste them. Planting kisses over them and swirling his tongue around them until they come out of hiding, becoming hard buds suckled on between his teeth.

“Mmm...” You groan as he sucks and licks all over them, squeezing them together in his big hands.

“You like that?” Marcus asks you as he nips again and makes you squeal out.

"Love it," you whine.

"Me too," he agrees with a rouge sparkle in his eyes.

You rub yourself against him; you can feel how hard he is even through his boxers. A tight, binding constriction inside them, poking out as you tease and play and feel every inch of him as you run your aching cunt against him.

You can feel it fizzing on your clit already; the rising tides of a dreamy orgasm already swelling behind your core muscles and eyelids alike. It feels so good, he feels so good.

He senses it building and grips onto your hips, pulling you into your rhythms.

"Marcus," you whine, "mmm, baby." You keep moving. Keep grinding. Keep working your hips as your clit aches and buzzes.

"You feel so good grinding on me. Keep going, you're almost there." Marcus encourages as you tense and gasp.

Your hands slap down onto his chest as you grind harder, quicker. You're panting and groaning as you can feel it shoot through your bloodstream down into your toes.

"That's it, come on... " he urges you with a catch in the back of his throat. "Fuck, baby, look at you."

"God, yes. Yes!" You moan, your eyes rolling back into your head as you're crushed by that wave of tingles and shivers as your clit massages against the length of his cock that's so hard as you come in your panties against him.

You squeal and shudder and tense up. You sit upright smiling and licking your lips, with a breathy giggle.

Marcus is just mesmerised by you; his eyes taking you in like he's taken a hit of heroin and he's seeing you everywhere he looks with blown out pupils.

"Was that a little one?" Marcus asks with a smile and you fall into him and kiss him again.

You nod, "little, but still really good."

"It felt good. I want to give you a few big ones too." He smiles.

"You will, we've got all day."

"All day?" Marcus' eyes widen playfully.

"Mmhm." You confirm dragging your lips over his skin.

"I best limber up," he chuckles. "Don't wanna get a cramp."

You giggle as you kiss slowly down his neck and towards his bronzed chest delicately, looking at him as you inch lower and lower down his taut torso and abs. Your hand slides up his thigh and towards his balls.

"Oh, like that, is it?" He croons, biting down on his lip through hooded eyes as you give them a gentle squeeze over his underwear.

"Ssh." You smirk, tasting the fragrances of his skin and circling his belly button with your tongue, making him hiss in as you draw closer to his waistband.

You drag your lips furthermore, leaving trails of your desire and affection. Your other hand grips the outside of him through his boxers; that hard muscle waiting to be released that you feel throbbing around your fingers. It's damp in patches on the cotton from your slick.

You smile up at him and he’s always so pleased and in awe that you do this to him. You make him so hard and fat with blood that it aches.

You make him want to fuck you so bad. Bury himself deep into you and lose himself to any and all thought.

To make love to you until his heart gives out. Because that's the only way he'd ever stop; only if he was dead.

He lives you, breathes you. You're the fire in his blood, the hunger in his belly.

You position yourself between Marcus’ long legs as he shuffles up the bed a little more, his arm behind his head and watching you with a blissed out smile.

You can smell him through his boxers; smell that inviting musk of his thick meat. You run your lips across the fabric of his underwear, grazing your bottom lip across him and nip him gently through it.

His breathing kicks it up a gear each time he feels your warm and wet mouth trail over the material of his boxers and venture closer to getting him fully out to have a taste.

You pull them down, revealing that swollen, pink and fleshy cock that thunks up against his abdomen gently. A glassy string of pre-cum dangles off of it and coats the fines dark hairs in his happy trail.

You lick it up and the noise that comes out of Marcus' mouth sounds like he's just died.

His dick rises and swells against you as you run your tongue up the length of him, flexing and pulsing, with firm balls as plump as his bottom lip and brimming full, just for you as you stroke them gently.

"Shit…" He whines as you look at him whilst you run your tongue up and down his cock. "So beautiful, baby. Just like that with my cock in your mouth."

Marcus tastes divine, how a man should taste. He's so smooth, firm and weighty. You tease and tongue his length; running it around under his frenum and hearing him gasp and pant as you do so.

A slight ripple in his thigh catches your attention, so you run your tongue under it again, watching him twitch loosely each time.

"Mmm, yeah." He sighs deliciously.

You can see the muscles in his lower abdomen tighten in anticipation. You pick him up so he’s standing upright, gripping a hold of him around the base.

That tall, thick cock greeting you with a reddening head, and you roll your lips down around him. Sucking him up and down slowly, taking him further inside your mouth each time.

“Mmm, baby...” Marcus groans out in a grizzly satisfaction. He fills your mouth, he’s so thick and girthy, but you want him right there; you want to choke on him and feel him pack you out.

You suckle delicately around his oozing head like your favourite popsicle dripping down your wrist in the summer heat.

Hollowing your cheeks, you take him deep and hear the rumble of his voice escape him through his moans each time you do.

His hands are soon on the back of your head pushing ever so gently; he wants you taking him deeper still. But he never forces, never takes. Gentle and submissive to your needs and desires.

They're his needs and desires too.

“Yeah, like that,” he croons with a pantless breath. "Fuck, baby. You're so good at that. Oh fuck..."

Hearing Marcus curse surges through your body, you feel it pull tight on your clit and nipples alike. Always so polite and well-mannered, but if you flick your tongue just right, he rolls in the filth with you.

"Fuck, fuck..." he whispers, he hisses.

You swallow him whole, your lips are touching his balls and you hold him there inside your throat, pause and keep still as he whines out and the sound makes your pussy tingle deliciously.

You can feel your slick drenching your panties, heat emanating from your core. It's too irresistable to not reach down into them and tease your clit. Your thighs shudder as soon as you do; your fingers slipping as you're utterly soaking.

He bucks his hips up gently, rousing you to continue as he prods the back of your throat.

You slide your mouth back up his length and take a deep breath as you kiss the head. Then swallow him deep again, massaging him with your tongue, up and down. A process that repeats and makes his head swim and dizzy with the delight of it all.

“Oh fuck!” Marcus grunts. “You’re killing me.” He's puffing and panting as he stuggles to contain himself a she nitices your hand stuffed in your panties. "You touching yourself, gorgeous?"

"Mmhmm," you whine with your mouth full of him. It feels divine as your pussy contracts and tightens as you flick across your clit quicker and harder as you suck him deeper.

"Oh God!" He croons.

You could do this forever; make him feel so fucking good. Listen endlessly to the noises of him finding his pleasure at your mercy; just fucking him slowly and intensely with your keen mouth all day.

His head relaxes back into the pillows, eyes closed and a smile blooming around his mouth in satisfaction at the feel of you.

You whine and hum around his cock as you come again, bokeh glitter bursting behind your eyelids and you shudder keenly, back arching like a cat.

"Baby," he moans, hearing you come undone; your fingers wet and sticky from your pleasure as you wrap them around his cock.

You then lick around his balls, sucking and nipping on them gently as you jerk him with your come-soaked hand. His head whips up and looks down at you nestled between his legs.

“Yes,” Marcus sings with intense brown eyes fixed on you. “Oh, that’s so good!”

You slurp around them and back up his shaft before popping him back in your mouth for a few more sucks, and then he’s pulling you up to meet his gorgeous face and slack jaw, unable to deny himself from you.

Marcus wiggles his tongue inside your lips, tempting you to sample the fruits of him. You catch his bottom lip inside your teeth nipping on it gently and making him gasp as you stroke his wet cock with your hand, gripping around him and pumping him with gentle vigour.

"God, you're so fucking gorgeous, you know that?" He gasps. He glances down watching as you twist and flex your wrist in a steady pace. "Oh fuck. Just like that. I fucking love that..."

"You've got a mouth on you, Pike." You smirk as he gasps.

"Can't help it when you... ah shit! God, baby, you keep doing that and I'm gonna come already!"

You smile at him, beaming. You never want to stop touching him, never want to stop making him feel so fucking good like this. Never want to stop marvelling at how his mouth parts, how he stares at you as though he can't believe you're making him feel like this.

"I'm not ready to come yet." He grins.

Marcus sits up and lifts you into his lap. He rubs his cock against your slit over your panties, up and down slowly against it, and he can feel that hard bump of your clit protruding as he makes tracks through the outline of your wet, swollen lips.

Your nipples harden as he tongues around them. Then he takes one inside his mouth and sucks it whilst looking at you as you fall under his hypnotic spell.

"Mmm," you whine, throwing your head back, his mouth doing a complete number on you.

He lays you back on the bed and kisses down your body like you did with him, pelting you with his love. Once nestled in between your legs, he places your hand onto your pussy, over your panties, and watches as you start to rub.

“Mmmmmah,” you whine.

“I love watching you touch yourself.” Marcus encourages.

Your fingers press against your slit and you can feel how soaked you are. It feels so good, so wet.

He licks over your knuckles, kisses them, as you touch yourself there, moaning. He smooches your digits and soon you feel his tongue dart in between them and lick over your sticky, cottony mound.

Marcus pulls your panties off and down your legs, and you spread them for him.

"So wet, baby. Look at that." He keens. "All for me?"

He plays with you; toys with you, thinking that he’ll go right for you, but he grazes his mouth barely past your wet cunt lips and bites you gently on the inside of your thigh instead as your pussy is throbbing and stinging for him.

“Marcus,” you whine, fisting in his hair, and he chuckles. He knows how much you need it, need him.

"You don't want me to tease you today?"

You pout, smirking.

"You just want my cock, is that it?"

His tongue makes tracks around your outer lips and you can feel his breath warm against your clit.

"Want my cock fucking into this gorgeous pussy, hmm?"

"Oh God," you groan, fisting through his hair. "That damn mouth on you..."

He grins. Then, he sucks on that swollen hub of aching nerves, ending your agony and sending your voice ribbing into the air.

“Oooh yes!” You wail as you feel his tongue cause carnage within you.

Marcus takes his time tasting you, drinking from you; savouring every last drop of you as you flood his mouth. Your head winds back into the pillows, eyes closed and drunk on heady bliss. He tongues your hole, flicking it in and out in quick darts and watching as you lose your shit.

“Fuck, Marcus! Don’t stop...” You coo as your body shudders. He slides his middle finger in, twisting as he does so. He pulls it out and slides back in. He kisses and sucks your clit as he pushes another finger inside with it, beside himself and groaning into your pussy.

He strokes you, finding your spot and applying the right pressure as he makes come hither motions with his fingers.

The pressure mounts deep inside you. Your thighs buck, vibrating tensely, and all you can see is the sun.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, Marcus! Fuck! Yes!" You rile.

"I know," he smiles. "Come for me."

Marcus loves it when you come in his mouth; tasting your juices as they pool and froth. He makes delicious groaning noises in satisfaction as he licks up and down your pussy, tasting your lips around his.

"Come for me, baby" he urges again as he tongues your clit faster, his fingers stroking deeper and harder inside you as you clench and tighten before releasing with a strangled groan into the air and fingers twisted in the sheets.

“God, I need to be inside of you,” Marcus groans and kneels up, coming to you and lowering himself down on your body. You kiss him like it’s the end of days and you’ll never see him again.

"I need to feel you, Marcus." You pant.

"Need me?"

"Yeah, I need you. Always need you." You groan.

When he enters you, it’s like the world has imploded around you both - there is no-one else here.

Just you and him, existing purely in this moment together where you become connected in mind, body and soul instantaneously. It'a unspoken, but you can see it in his eyes. Feel it in his touch. Hear it in his groans.

You gasp every time he slides in; filling you wholly and bottoming out with a heady, lusty grunt.

Time slows down; you can hear him breathe like it’s a loud echo all around you, like the ocean crashing into the shore, and it vibrates inside the air.

It’s just Marcus. Just him.

No-one else as he holds your attention and you feel every inch of him sliding deeper into you. His strokes are slow and intentional to get you to feel all of him, and he watches as you contort underneath him; feels your hands pressing bruises into his arms and shoulders. Your chimes filling his ears; your cunt so wet and tight for him.

Him. Him.

Fuck, it's always been him.

You both behold one another around parted lips and dilated pupils. His pace increases as you both heighten your pleasure from one another, feeding off of one another’s energy and love.

Heavy, thick slaps of your flesh pounding upon one another resonate as you go harder on each other. Both climbing together.

Marcus feels it when you come again; your forehead pressing up onto his, and breathing deeply into his face, gasping - calling out his name.

Clawing at his skin, falling apart around him as he scoops you up and pieces you back together before doing it again. An endless repeat of his affection and adoration for you.

Coming so hard for him as he pushes his hips into you relentlessly.

He fucks you hard, deep. He keeps on coming at you, devouring you and smothering you.

You’re his goddess, his woman. What a woman! The one he gets to live inside, to feel you from the inside. The one he can taste, the one he can cradle in his arms as he feeds you every piece of him.

The one he can love.

“M-Marcus!” You call as you release and let go.

"Fuck, baby. Look at you," he swoons. "Coming for me. So gorgeous when you come for me like this... fuck."

You roll him onto his back, straddling him and riding on top of his cock and owning every part of him now.

His hands are all over you, pulling at your ass cheeks and winding you back and forth on top of him, feeling you contract inside as you tighten around him again.

Marcus stops thrusting up into you to just watch you come; marvelling and just stunned at how beautiful you are shaking on the end of his cock and rasping for him.

For a second, it stops all coherent thought. It stops time.

It stops his heart, you utterly kill him.

He then ploughs right on in again as you gasp and tremble, starting the hazy wind of building you up all over again and starting the chase after his own release.

He needs to fill you up with him so badly.

You falter and weaken; your body is a jangled mess and groaning; it’s so sensitive and tingly still. You collapse on him and once more he gets you back underneath him.

“You make me feel so good,” you whisper to him and he smiles knowing that he does. It's his raison d'être.

It's all you. You, you, you...

Marcus pushes back in slowly, watching as he pulls out almost the whole way; his cock greased up with your sopping slit coating him. He slides back in quickly, feels as you rib and squeeze around him each time.

“Fuck, I’m gunna come in this gorgeous pussy,” Marcus puffs, his eyes rolling back into his head as he does it each time. “Right now, right inside of you.” He pants.

"Fill me up," you plead, grabbing a hold of his ass and pushing him deeper into you. "Come for me."

And after a few more deep strokes, you feel him burst; the thick vein that runs the length of his cock pulsing and twitching as he releases inside you, warm and plentiful.

"Fuuh..." The hot expletive loses its way as he empties.

His whole body shudders, crawling up from the base of his spine right into his shoulders as he comes and pumps out. He groans out on a deep, laboured breath.

He falters, weak and unsteady, supporting his own shaky weight and collapses on top of you this time; his hair sticking to his forehead as you brush it away and kiss all over his salty face as he puffs and smiles contentedly, wrapped up in your arms and body alike.

You hold onto his face and look at him, look into him. His cheeks are a flush, matching the scarlet of his lips now as he catches his breath. Those chocolate eyes so warm and sleepy in satisfaction. Hair a tugged on mess, shoulders clammy with sweat.

“I love you,” you say to him in absolute awe.

Marcus smirks and kisses you; a big, plumpy smooch that you still feel on your lips even when he pulls away from them slightly. Never too far away.

“I love you, gorgeous.” He replies earnestly, and smiling with glistening eyes.

He nestles into you further humming in contentment as you stroke through his damp hair.

"I should definitely take more vacation." He beams, chuckling into your neck.

Yeah. It's always been him.

Thank you so, so much for reading. I really hope you enjoyed this Marcus Pike story of mine. If you did, please consider re-blogging and leaving a comment to let me know your thoughts. Thank you 🖤

MASTERLIST | MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST

#marcus pike #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fics #marcus pike fic #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys

[atinylittlepain]

Little Pinch

nurse!marcus pike x f!reader

she needs to get bloodwork done. one small problem, getting bloodwork done never goes well for her, especially not when she's distracted by the very kind, very handsome nurse doing it.

wordcount | 3.3K

content info | 18+ discussions of getting bloodwork that includes needles, fainting, nausea, mostly fluff, nurse marcus to the rescue, this is just a fun time, also an un-beta'd time so like, be nice pls

a/n | shoutout to the girls (gn) that pass out every time they get blood work done (me). I have to get new labs tomorrow morning, and writing this is how I coped with that prospect :') this one is for the fainters, the thin veiners, the "just do it in my hand"-ers - i see you, i am you, gawd bless

..........................................................................

Here’s the thing, this never goes well. It wasn’t always like this though. She has a vague memory of being a kid and taking it like a perfect champ, testing for mono after a rash of cases at school. But then, well, something changed. 

It runs in her family. Thin veins that are hard for even the best nurses to find, lots of oh, I just lost it, and well, let’s try your other arm, and always, ultimately, hands? Should we try the hands? No, the nurses never listen when she tells them to just start with the hands, and without fail, somewhere around the third or fourth time they try to get the needle in, a cold sweat breaks, and the room starts to filter through a fuzzy pinhole of vision. It’s embarrassing, she thinks, because, really, she has no problem with needles. Can watch it go in, no issues with piercings, et cetera, et cetera, but getting blood drawn? Yeah, forget about it. She usually comes to with paperwork around her feet that she had been holding, and a well-meaning nurse pressing a damp paper towel to her forehead and breathing the remnants of her lunch over her face and alright, hon? Usually a box of apple juice and an escort out to her car to make sure she doesn’t go offline again. 

The other thing is, unfortunately, she’s pretty sure her little fainting, fading thing has gotten worse over the years. A conditioned response, she thinks, that cold sweat starts the second she walks into the waiting room, already anticipating what comes next. And today, well, even worse than some of the others. Twelve hours fasted, and no, that certainly won’t help her case, no matter how much water she downed before she came here, no matter how tight she squeezes her fist in the hopes of pumping even one vein up enough to be tenable. She looks at the woman sitting across from her in the waiting room, reading a back-ordered issue of Cosmo, flipping and flippant and really, why can’t she be like that? Why can’t she be normal like that? Instead, her heel is doing a frantic tap, whole leg jerking with it, and everytime she checks her watch she feels her heart creep a little further up into her throat. 

If she’s being honest, she thought about canceling her labs. No, doc, all good, doc, don’t need to know, doc. And then a friend pointed out, frustratingly, that avoidance is only going to make it worse. Right, so, right, so right, so, here she is. And here’s the nurse opening the door and right, calling her name, and it’s a man nurse, male nurse, though she’s pretty sure she’s not being PC by making that specification in her mind because really, twenty-first century, and really, anyone can be a nurse. But not anyone, right? Lots of schooling, right? Right. She realizes a bit too late that she hadn’t responded to the nurse calling her name, jerking up out of her chair and trying for a smile that she thinks probably looks more like constipation. And that’s just great because now man nurse, sorry, just nurse, probably thinks she’s constipated and she’d rather not have the, actually, very handsome, just nurse, thinking that on top of whatever she’s got going on that necessitates lab work she also can’t take a shit. Right. 

“We’re going to be in this room right here.” Handsome just nurse has a nice voice too, deep but kind, and a strong jawline, and a patchy beard but she likes that it’s patchy, and he’s tan and he’s got one of those big watches that tells you how hard your heart was beating on your run and he probably runs in the afternoon after clocking out of the needle-in-arms gig and that’s probably why he’s so tan, probably has a golden retriever who runs with him too, because he looks like a golden retriever guy, dark flop of wavy hair and that smile and oh, oh, he just asked her a question and now she’s supposed to answer it. 

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” He smiles, nods, being nice, at least, about her whole scared prey animal situation. She presses her palm down hard on her knee to keep it from bouncing any more. 

“It says on this order that these labs need to be taken fasted. Can you confirm to me that you haven’t had anything to eat or drink besides water in the last twelve hours?” Oh yes, yep, she can confirm that for you, Marcus, his name is Marcus, says so on his little lanyard badge. Thanks for the easy one, Marcus, pitch right down the middle, Marcus, with your nice smile and your clipboard and your, well, needles and tubes. But before he can get started with his, well, needles and tubes, she makes a strangled, sort of despondent sound because in situations like these, she comes with a warning label. 

“I should let you know I have, um, bad veins? Honestly, you can just start with my hands, I don’t mind it. And also, I’m a fainter, yeah, so, it happens every time, just so you know.” And usually, usually, her spiel is given very little notice, mmmokay, hon. Sure, they’ll lay her back, how merciful, so she doesn’t crack her skull open on the way out of conscious orbit. That’s about it, though. But this time, she thinks, might just be different.

“Okay, thank you for giving me the heads up. If you’re sure you’re alright with starting with the hands then it’s fine by me to get it done that way.” So, so fine, Marcus, and maybe, just maybe, she thinks she might not pass out this time. He sets the exam table at a reclined angle and she wills her rigid spine to settle against it, trying to find the balance between breathing so deeply she starts to get light headed, and not breathing at all. In case you were wondering, yes, she is on medication for anxiety, it just doesn’t seem to presently be working. 

“Just gonna feel around a bit here for a good one.” She only feels a little insane for the kick and clench in her heart when he takes her one hand in both of his, because he’s just palpating the back of her hand to find, as he said, a good one. Yes, the word for it is palpating, and there is certainly nothing romantic nor, hello, sexual about anything that’s called palpating. But, hey, taking wins where she can get them, and even through the latex gloves, his hands are warm and big and very know what they’re doing about the whole thing. And she’s no expert, obviously, but he’s got a very nice, very visible vein in his forearm, and she bets phlebotomists love him, bets that when he gets blood drawn, he’s in and out no problem, bets that even she could draw blood from him. Nope, nothing sexual about that, nothing weird about that, right? Right. Nothing sexual either, when he ties off the tight band around her arm and she watches his one bicep flex a little with the effort. 

“I can count you down, or you can look away and I’ll just get it done, whichever you prefer.”

“Uh, no preference, I’ll just look away and you can do whatever you want to me.” Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. She realizes exactly what she just said a bit too late, him, Marcus, nice nurse Marcus, letting out a laugh that fizzles out into a cough. Great, now she’s made her fucking phlebotomist uncomfortable, possibly one of the last people you want to make uncomfortable. But if that, whatever that was, lingers, he doesn’t show it, already swiping an antiseptic wipe over the back of her hand and pulling his little cart of tubes closer to himself. And she knows this part, she’s good at this part, letting her eyes sweep up and to the right, because he’s on her left, and willing whatever vein he decided is a good one to stay a good one. Little pinch, little prayer, she lets out a held breath when he says a quiet alright and keeps the needle exactly where it is. Hallelujah.

“This might take a little longer, just because we’re drawing from your hand.”

“I’ll bleed as fast as I can then.” At the very least, he laughs, even though she wishes she had kept that one to herself. 

“Do you live around here?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to distract you.” 

“Didn’t they teach you how to do that in like, phlebotomy school?” She still has her eyes turned up and away, only a little wince when he switches out one tube for another. He hums at her question.

“Not really, I could ask you about the weather, is that better?” 

“It’s cloudy. Not much of a conversation starter.” 

“Well, why don’t you ask me something, since you’re such an expert on starting conversations.”

“Do you have a golden retriever?”

“What?”

“Sorry, you just, you look like the kind of guy who’d have a golden retriever.” Another tube clicks into place, but she’s not paying any attention to that now. 

“Uh, no, no golden retriever. I do however have a very old, very deaf pit mix named Lucille.” Goddamnit, somehow that’s hotter than the golden retriever. 

“Great name.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. She came with it when I adopted her.” God. Fucking. Damn it. What next, is he a volunteer firefighter on the weekends?

“Alright, that’s the last one.”

“Wait, really?” She chances a skittish glance but, sure enough, the needle is out.

“Yep, just let me get a band-aid for you and you’re all set.” Is he? Is she? Really? Going to make it out of here with no blackout? She considers, very briefly, as Marcus is smoothing a band-aid over the back of her hand, whether it’s possible to put a phlebotomist on retainer. 

“If you want to sit for a minute and make sure you’re feeling alright before getting up that’s totally fine. I can also get you water or juice if you’re getting lightheaded.” 

“Oh, no, I’m fine actually. Which, hey, thanks for not making me faint and stuff– that’s a first for me in a very long–” Oh, oh, stops herself mid-compliment because oh, oh, maybe stood up too fast, because the room is going a little dark, a little sideways, cold prickle and nauseous and–

“Easy, easy, I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?” His voice is a little fuzzy around the edges. To be honest, he’s a little fuzzy around the edges, though she knows right away what happened. No, not her first rodeo, like she blinked and then came to in a strange sprawl on the end of the exam table. Marcus presents a dixie cup to her, holds it right in her line of sight because clearly, she’s still a little slumped, still a little vacant, and a little warm, actually, which is new, and a little pleasant, and, oh, it’s because his arm is curled around her shoulders, firm palm held there to help her sit up. Oh. He smells like clorox and something woodsy, and it shouldn’t, but it kind of works. 

“You feeling okay?”

“Mmmhmm.” She’s afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she doesn’t keep her lips pressed in a thin line, mmhmms again when he asks if she can sit up on her own, only a little despondent when he takes his arm away. 

“So, you really weren’t kidding about that happening every time, huh?” 

“Nope, wish I was. It’s– I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That you had to deal with that.”

“You don’t have to be sorry about that, it’s part of the job. And actually, you fainted about as perfectly as I could’ve asked you to.”

“I didn’t know you could faint like, well.” 

“Right before you went down you said I’m gonna faint. That’s a lot better than getting no heads up and turning around to find my patient unresponsive on the ground.” 

“Oh gee, I bet you say that to all your patients.” Lord, if there was ever a time to put her out of her misery it’d be now. She probably still looks green from her little trip to outer space but sure, flirt with Marcus, handsome nurse Marcus who just watched you absolutely eat it. Kick your feet and bat your eyelashes while you’re at it. 

“I take it you’re feeling better then? Are you okay to walk out to the front desk?” And the rest is, mercifully, easy. He walks her to the front desk, squeezes her shoulder and gives her a good job today that she likes a little too much. She makes a mental note to herself to never come back to this clinic for any future bloodwork, lest she make a fool of herself all over again in front of a man who, with any luck, she will never see again. 

…

“Yes, this is she speaking.” This is she speaking in the middle of the cereal aisle with a half-filled grocery basket at her feet. She sets her gaze on a hyper-realized image of a granola cluster (now with real strawberries!) while the woman on the other end of the phone tells her that her lab results came in and were sent over to her doctor. 

“Oh, great, thank you for letting me know. Do you know– did things look okay?” 

“We don’t interpret the results, ma’am. Your doctor will go over that with you.” She doesn’t quite catch that, doesn’t catch the woman’s ma’am? either, a little preoccupied with staring down the aisle, because is that? Is he? He looks good out of the scrubs. 

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry, no, um, of course. Thanks again.” If the woman had anything else to tell her, it’s a little too late for it, already hung up, and she’s trying to decide if she wants him to see her, or if fleeing immediately is the best course of action. He probably wouldn’t even recognize her, she thinks. It’s been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal. And actually, she’d prefer if he didn’t recognize her. Oh yeah, the one who, well, ate it. But it seems the choice has already been made for her, because he saw her, walking down the aisle toward her, with his chin tilted down and part of a smile like he isn’t sure, but he’s pretty sure. He says her name like a question. Guilty as charged.

“Marcus, right?” Like she forgot his name, ha. His smile stretches, a little brighter, palm to the nape of his neck, and while she got the golden retriever part wrong, she totally clocked the rest, watch on his wrist and nice-looking athletic shorts and just-right-tight t-shirt with the little swoosh on the chest. She thinks his hair might even be a little sweat-damp, curled ends nearly getting in his eyes. In other words, she’s a goner. 

“How have you been since we– you, well–”

“Since I passed out on you?” Yeah, that, he laughs out and yeah, she likes him, sue her. 

“Just for the record, I believe it was you who said I passed out perfectly, so.” Shrug, so, he takes a step closer, leans in a little like he’s going to tell her a secret. In the cereal aisle, of all places. 

“Just for the record, I really don’t say that to all my patients.”

“No?”

“Nope, just the nervous, pretty ones.”

“I was not nervous.”

“You weren’t?”

“Nope.”

“Are you just gonna blow past the other thing?”

“What thing?”

“The pretty thing.”

“Yep.” Something a little giddy, like being back in high school, shared, shit-eating and smug grins. He shakes his head and she rolls her lips back in her mouth to stop her smile from getting any cheesier. 

“So, you do live around here then?” 

“Mm, yeah, I do. And so do you?”

“I do.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Lovely weather we’re having.”

“Wow.” 

“What? I’m making conversation.”

“You’re still not very good at it.”

“I’ll keep working on it for you.”

“Sure, okay. What kind of cereal do you get?”

“What kind do you think I get?”

“You look like a Kashi guy, if I’m honest.”

“Somehow I feel insulted.”

“Well.”

“You’re not even right either.” 

“No? What do you get then?” He just smiles, steps away and reaches up to the top of the shelf and she is very grateful to General Mills for being located on the top shelf because his shirt rides up just enough to see a bare hip. In cheerios we trust. 

“Apple cinnamon, seriously?”

“What? It’s a classic.”

“Actually, you know what, that tracks.” 

“What do you get?” She waggles her basket in front of him in response, goods already procured. 

“Peanut butter chex, respectable choice.”

“Thank you, thank you.” 

“You know, I’d say we’re pretty good at this conversation thing.”

“Yeah, we’re not bad.”

“Do you want to do this again sometime? Not in the cereal aisle?”

“What, you mean like in the produce section?” He smiles at that, rolls his eyes, his basket lightly bonking against hers. 

“I was thinking more like dinner, or drinks if that’s your thing?” 

“I might be free on Saturday.”

“I might also be free on Saturday.” 

“Well, sounds like we’re both free on Saturday.”

“Can I get your number?” His lockscreen is a picture of a dog. Lucille, he tells her, before she was very old and very deaf. She can’t help how big her smile gets at that. 

“Text me, and we’ll do this whole conversation thing again.” I will, he says, phone tucked back into his pocket, though he seems to think twice before asking her can I see something really quick. Not entirely sure what he means when she nods, but then his hand sort of hovers over her forearm, may I? He really does have nice hands, she doesn’t think twice about nodding again. 

“Oh yeah, we didn’t have to use your hand. I could have totally gotten it from here.” His hand curled around her elbow and his thumb lightly pressing into what she can only assume is a vein, and he says it so earnestly that she can’t help the incredulous laugh that rises up in her chest. 

“Really? You’re still stuck on that, huh?” He smiles something sheepish, pad of his thumb rubbing an apology into her skin before pulling away. She didn’t really want him to pull away.

“Sorry, occupational hazard, I guess.” 

“Kinda weird, you know.”

“Did I just ruin this whole thing?”

“Mmm, no, I kinda like it.”

“So, Saturday?”

“Looking forward to it, Marcus.” 

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fic #marcus pike au #marcus pike angst #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you

[burntheedges]

Only for you

Marcus Pike x f!reader | 1.9k words | ao3 | 18+ this is all smut

summary: a little fic answering this request – Marcus Pike finding reader has nipple and clit hood piercings in the ~heat of the moment~ and is totally thrown (in a good way).

a/n: this was pretty fun to write, I'm not going to lie. Thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta. I hope you like it, @fluffygoffpanda!

tags/warnings: smut, banter, kissing, groping, mention of breasts and nipples, reader has her nipples and clit hood pierced (vertical), playing with piercings durings sex, fondling, oral (f!receiving), reader has no description other than having breasts and a vagina, reader is wearing jeans and a shirt (this is basically just smut, but I imagined Marcus and reader just started dating and are having sex for the first time -- feel free to imagine whatever you'd like), no use of y/n, pet names (baby, sweetheart)

...

Your keys slipped from your fingers and fell to the floor as he pressed you back into your door. His hands slipped down your side and squeezed your hips in a firm grip and you gasped. He pressed soft kisses down your neck that made you shiver and your hands tangled in his hair before you realized you’d moved them. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. His teeth worried a mark into your neck and you tugged at his hair in response. “Marcus!”

The way you said his name caught his attention and he lifted his head to meet your gaze.

“Yeah, baby?” He kissed you softly but quickly and moved away again before you could react. “You sound so good when you say my name like that.”

You tugged him forward to kiss you again and he chuckled lowly as he allowed it, tilting his head to seal his lips over yours. You sank into the kiss, unable to think of anything but the feel of Marcus’ lips on yours and the weight of his body as he pressed you back into your door. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he murmured against your lips. “Been wanting this. For so long.”

His hands slid under your shirt and you hummed into the kiss, pleased. You felt him smile as his fingertips played along the bottom edge of your bra. He pulled away briefly to press his forehead against yours. 

“Can I–” he started to ask, but you interrupted.

“Yes.” Your voice was fervent and insistent. “Please, Marcus.”

He pressed his smile to yours again as his hands continued upwards, fingers skimming softly over your skin. You were relaxing back into the kiss when he suddenly froze against you – his whole body tensed and he turned his head with a gasp.

“What–” you started, confused and a little worried. But then you felt it.

His fingers teased tentatively at your nipples and you understood.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice choked with lust. “Baby, are those–” he cut himself off on a moan as his thumbs pressed down on the metal he’d found waiting for him, hidden under your shirt. His forehead dropped to rest against your shoulder and he sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

You grinned, though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, they are.” Your breath caught as he pinched, suddenly, framing one of your piercings between his fingertips, but he released it just as quickly.

“Shit, sorry, was that ok? Not too rough? I don’t–” he sighed. “Is it ok to–”

“Yes," you interrupted him and smoothed a hand down his back. “Please.”

He shivered. “Fuck.” His voice deepened as he returned to teasing your piercings. “Baby, I had no idea. Fuck.”

You turned your head to press kisses in his hair. “Do you like them?”

He pulled his head back to look at you again, and he looked wrecked. His pupils were blown wide and his mouth was open and red from where you’d kissed him moments before. 

“Do I like them?” He sounded incredulous, and you bit your lip. He smoothed his thumbs over both of your piercings beneath your shirt and you sighed. When he saw the effect it had on you his gaze darkened. He did it again with a little half grin on his face that made you squirm. “Well, maybe I need to see them, hmm? Before I can say for sure.” He teased you with a wink. He started to move his hands upwards to remove your shirt and you smiled as you raised your arms to help.

You tossed your shirt to the floor by your keys, but when you could see him again, he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were locked on your chest and it seemed like he was barely breathing.

“Marcus?” you asked, a bit tentative. But you needn’t have worried.

“Baby,” he whispered as he dropped to his knees. He reached up and traced around your nipples lightly with each thumb, watching your nipples move as he tugged lightly at your piercings. You gasped and his eyes darted up to watch your face. “You are so fucking hot.”

You gasped out a laugh, and smiled. “So you like them?”

“Fuck, I love them. Had no idea you were hiding these under there.” He stood to lead you to your couch and gently pushed you down to sit before he fell to his knees in front of you again. “Can I?” he asked, leaning forward. You nodded.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your left breast before teasing around the piercing with his tongue. You tangled your hands in his hair again. “Yes, please,” you breathed. 

He closed his lips over your piercing and you thrust your hips forward without meaning to. He released it gently and looked up at you again. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive, knowing you have these. Knowing they’re hiding under all of your shirts and dresses and fuck.” he darted in to press a kiss to the other one. “Fucking gorgeous.”

You bit your lip, wondering if now was a good time to tell him about your other piercing. You started to grin, imagining how he might react.

“You know, those aren’t my only piercings.” His head shot up and his gaze darted from your nipples to your ears, brow furrowed. “No, I don’t mean those. You can’t see the other one right now.”

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. You watched as a flush took over his cheeks and traveled swiftly down his neck. His gaze dropped to the front of your jeans and he stared, eyes glazed and unseeing. “You mean–” 

You grasped his chin in your hand and tugged until his eyes returned to meet yours. “Yes, Marcus.” You watched him take that in. He looked completely overwhelmed by the idea. “Why don’t you take off my pants and see?”

The speed with which he scrambled to do so was extremely gratifying. 

Marcus unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them forward with your underwear. You lifted your hips to make it easier, and soon enough your jeans were flung elsewhere in your living room. He never took his eyes off of your pussy. His hands were trembling as he raised them to your thighs and gently pushed your legs apart. 

When he caught sight of what was waiting for him, he moaned. “Baby,” his voice was deep and dark and it sent shivers down your spine. “Baby, this is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He used his fingers to part your lips as he took you in. You knew what he was seeing – the two round ends of the curved barbell, nestled just above and below your hood, with the bottom one nestled against your clit. You suddenly realized your chest was heaving as you breathed, you were so affected by Marcus’ unwavering stare.

“You can touch–” you were cut off as you sucked in a breath when he leaned forward. “Please, Marcus.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your piercing, right over the end of the barbell next to your clit, and you gasped. 

“Is there–” he swallowed and tore his eyes away, finally meeting your gaze again. “Is there anything I shouldn’t–”

You smiled and tangled your hand in his hair again. He was so good. “You can touch. With your fingers and your mouth.” He huffed a laugh and nodded. “It’s long healed. Just be gentle – it feels good against my clit but it doesn’t do a lot on its own.”

He shook his head a little. “Well, baby, let me tell you, it’s doing plenty on its own – for me.” You grinned as he ducked his head down again.

You gasped as he closed his mouth around your clit and teased lightly at your piercing and your clit with his tongue. “Yes,” you breathed, “like that, Marcus.” He pressed a little more firmly with his tongue and you let your legs drop open completely as you tilted your hips forward into his mouth. 

Marcus moved his tongue expertly against you, teasing at your clit and moving your piercing against it in a way that felt amazing. He slipped his hand forward and you felt his fingers teasing at your entrance. He circled one of his fingertips around in a circle before pushing forward gently, just pressing the tip inside as he flattened his tongue over your clit. You moaned.

He pressed his finger forward as he circled your clit and piercing in little figure-8s and you lost yourself completely in the sensations. Before you could catch your breath he slipped a second finger next to the first and thrust them both forward to find that perfect spot inside of you. You started to squirm against his mouth. 

“Yeah, baby,” he pulled back just enough to murmur to you. “Fuck my face, sweetheart.”

You tangled both of your hands in his hair and did as he asked.

Overwhelmed, you thrust your hips forward to meet his fingers. His lips and tongue were steady and devastating on your clit. It was like he couldn’t, he refused to pull himself away. You could feel it building at the bottom of your spine, climbing and clawing its way upwards as he tongued relentlessly at your clit. You thrust forward again and pulled his face forward, almost grinding against his mouth. He hummed into your pussy as you pressed his face into you, mouth open to meet you, and your next breath came out like a sob.

“Marcus–” your breath caught. “Marcus, I’m close–”

On your next thrust, he pressed his fingers right onto the spot that felt amazing, and at the same time twisted the tip of his tongue around your clit. He looked up and locked his eyes on yours, mouth open against your pussy. All you could see were his eyes, dark and intent. 

“Come, sweetheart.” His lips moved over your clit as he said it.

You did. His lips closed over your clit and piercing again and you fell over the edge. You sighed out his name as your legs shook and your back arched. He didn’t move away, guiding you through it with his tongue and his fingers until your whole body was shaking.

You blinked and found yourself staring up at your ceiling, legs, thrown wide, with Marcus between them pressing gentle kisses around your pussy.

“Holy shit, Marcus.” He chuckled as he moved upwards to hover over you.

“Me? No, baby, that was all you.” He smiled as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “How am I supposed to go about my day, knowing what you’ve got hiding away, just for me?”

You smiled back. “Only for you.” You watched as he shivered at the thought. “C’mere, handsome.” You tugged him down into a soft kiss and felt him smile against your lips as you wrapped your legs around his hips. His cock, hard inside his jeans, pressed against your spread open pussy and he moaned. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips. “Let’s finish this in bed.” You laughed as he tugged you up and off the couch. Something about him leading you down the hallway, fully clothed while you were completely naked, was turning you on even more. When he reached your door, he turned around and captured your hands as he walked backwards into your bedroom. “Got any more surprises waiting for me?”

You winked. “Guess you’ll find out.” He laughed and tugged you forward into another kiss.

...

a/n: let me know what you think? 💕

tag list: @katareyoudrilling @jeewrites @dancingtotuyo (since we talked about it)

If you're on the tag list for Maintenance Request and want to be on all my tag lists, let me know!

#marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike smut #marcus pike #x reader #piercings #this is all smut folks #bte requests

[mountainsandmayhem]

🌊 Beach Babe 🌊

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: There’s no summary, this is just you and Marcus having a hot one night stand on the beach. It’s all corn, no plot

Content Warning: oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, praise kink (duh, have we met?), dirty talk

AN: This is my entry for the beautiful @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge. She is usually my beta but I wanted to surprise her so this is not beta read or proof read really, but it’s not like the internet is forever or anything haha. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Friendly reminder that I’m no longer doing a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for updates 🙂

“You can do it, baby. Yeah. Fuck, just relax your throat.” His voice is a heady whisper. You squeeze the meat of his upper thigh like he showed you and he pulls you off of him. Salvia and pre cum falling onto your tits, the triangle cups of your wet swimsuit are tucked underneath them, holding them high for the stranger that just had his dick pressing against the back of your throat.

His thumb reaches down and swipes across your swollen bottom lip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Let me know when you're ready for more.”

You haven’t even caught your breath yet and you’re already nodding your head, you’re not above begging if that’s what he wants. “More. Now. Please, I want more.”

His hands tangle back into your hair, he looks around the sand dunes and tall grasses that keep you somewhat protected to ensure you don’t have any visitors before he thrusts roughly into your mouth. You hold back a gag, closing your eyes and trying to breathe through your nose.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he whines softly when you push your tongue past your bottom lip to swipe your tongue along his balls. He yanks you off him and you gasp out, sucking in the cool salty air of the ocean just behind you.

“Fuck me,” you coo, pulling at the baby pink drawstrings that are holding up your bottoms. They fall to the soft sand with a wet smacking sound. His eyes fall to the apex of your thighs and he licks his lips hungrily.

“Get on all fours, now.” You smile at the rough commanding tone, spin your ass towards him and get on your hands and knees. He lets out a groan as you arch your back enticingly.

When Pike was assigned a new trainee in California he wasn’t overly thrilled about it. He had finally settled in DC after what he’d been through the last time he was in this state. However, ego aside, he was the best in the country at this job, and the training would only take a few weeks. The guy he was training had an impressive resume, he was probably more educated on art than Pike himself. He didn’t want to think about that now though, he’ll meet him tomorrow. Right now he wants to focus on this insatiable ball of need that was pushing her pert little ass out at him. He’s not sure what came over him when he saw you sitting in the sand, but he knew he would be fucking you before he left, and with the beach pretty much deserted as the sun started to set he made his move.

“I’m Elle,” you had said as you shook his hand, biting your bottom lip.

It wasn’t long after he said his name was Marcus that the two of you were ducking between the dunes and grass and he had his swollen cock rammed down your throat.

He lowers himself to the sand, tracing a thick finger through your folds, spreading your wetness. He swirls your clit and you cry out in pleasure, “Gotta be quiet for me, sweet girl.”

You nod and hum in agreement as he slips two fingers deep inside you. To stay quiet you focus on your breathing. Short, laboured breaths in and out, in and out. He twists his wrist to be palm down, watching the way your tiny pink entrance sucks at his fingers, the way your juices squeeze out, and then he curls his fingers forward and every nerve in your body tingles. Marcus has never had an issue finding that spot before.

You gasp, the salty air burning your lungs as you try to keep your noises to nothing but hushed whimpers. “Good girl. Stay quiet. That’s it.”

He picks up the pace, pushing and pushing on that spongy spot inside you before bringing his free hand around, his middle finger easily finding your swollen clit. Your arms buckle at the pleasure of it all, landing on your elbows, opening yourself up to him more. You bite the skin of your forearm as the pleasure starts to reach its peak.

“Come on, you can do it. I can feel how close you are. Squeezing my fingers so tight. Let go, baby, let go.”

Just as you start to come he pulls his fingers out and slams his rock hard cock inside of you. The welcome stretch has you coming harder than you ever have before, back arched like you’re in some sort of tantric yoga pose. His cock is so buried so deep that you can feel it pressing into your cervix. He doesn’t stop the tight circles of your clit as you clench around him tightly, body twitching and legs shaking at the feel of him.

You thought you were just going to have a relaxing evening on the beach, a nice way to celebrate the promotion you recently received at work. Truthfully, what better way to celebrate than being fucked into oblivion by a handsome stranger.

As your orgasm begins to morph into overstimulation you release you teeth from your forearm, deep red and purple marks left behind. You voice comes out breathy and you almost don’t recognize it as your own, “Fuck me now. Just fuck me. Please.”

“Not gonna last long,” he says as he pulls out to the tip and thrusts hard back into you.

“I don’t care, just fucking give it to me, Marcus.” His hands grip your hips tightly as he repeats the same motion. Pulling out torturously slow, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein of his heavy cock, before he slams back in.

“Ready?” He hums, his hips pressed firmly to your ass.

“Yesss,” you whisper.

He starts to really fuck you. Its fast and hard and with every thrust you can feel his dick swelling bigger. He bruises the walls of your slick pussy with the pace he’s setting, all while whispering praises about how good you are and how well you're taking him. “Should see how much this little pussy loves being stretched. She’s crying for me, baby.”

“Cum all over my back. I wanna feel it.” You moan.

“Fuckfuck - oh god, such a good girl for me.” He pulls out roughly, strings of your arousal and his pre cum keeping you connected temporarily before he grips his cock and pumps into his fist.

You look over your shoulder to watch him. He looks wrecked, his outgrown hair all messy, eyebrows fused together as he looks at your ass with glazed over eyes. With a shuddering breath he comes, coating your ass and back in warm white ropes of cum. He sits back on his heels and admires his painting. Smirking to himself he says, “Look like a work of art, baby.”

After a few calming breaths he grabs your swimsuit bottoms and wipes off his cum. “Stay here,” he says, slipping his red swimsuit back on and after a careful look around he jogs over the sand dune. You stay there, almost fully naked with your ass in the air waiting for him.

Marcus rinses the cum off your bottoms in the ocean and then jogs back to you. He helps you up and watches you put your swimsuit back on. As you grab your cover up from your bag he says, “Well, that was fun. Unexpected, but fun.”

“I agree,” you say, feeling your cheeks warm.

“I’m - umm, well I’m just visiting for a few weeks but if you wanted to see each other -“

You cut him off, “You don’t have to do that. It’s really ok if this was just a one time thing.”

He nods.

You grab your stuff and after you two smile at each other sweetly you turn to start to walk back to your condo.

“Elle,” he calls after you. You stop and turn to face him. “What if I don’t want this to be a one time thing?”

You laugh and shake your head. You call back, “Then you better be at the beach tomorrow around eight.”

When you wake in the morning you can still feel the dull ache of Marcus all over your body. The back of your throat, in between your thighs, the bite mark on your arm and the small bruises on your hips. He’s still everywhere and you relish in it.

You start your new job today, so after finding a long sleeve blouse to cover your teeth marks, and doing your best to look both professional and serious you head to your new office building.

You trace your fingers over the nameplate on your door. They’ve used your full name and you’ll have to ask them to update that to Elle, people always assume things when they see your full name.

You put your bag down and log into your computer just as you hear a soothing, deep and friendly voice travel down the hallway.

“Good morning. I’m looking for Elliot Hall. I’m supposed to be training him for the next few weeks.” Your spine stiffens. You know that voice.

No way. There’s no way.

The receptionist giggles, “Elliot is a female. Her office is second door on the right. She just got in.”

His shoes click on the hardwood of the hallway, each step closer has your heart racing. There’s a quiet knock on your open door and when you look up you lock eyes with Marcus.

#marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #Marcus pike fan fic #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro stories #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut