#marcus pike x fem!reader

[pedroscurls]

second chances | pt. 1

Character(s): Marcus Pike x fem!Reader Summary: After a stressful past couple of days at work, Marcus is ready to spend his day off relaxing. Until he gets a new neighbor asking for his help. Word count: 1.3k  A/N: I've become a Marcus Pike girlie and I can't go back now. Don't even get me started on Lisbon... So, I decided that Marcus Pike deserves a happy ending. Stay tuned and enjoy! Warning: None.  SERIES MASTERLIST - ultimate masterlist

Since moving to Washington DC – alone – Marcus has busied himself with work. Long hours in the office. Late nights. Barely any sleep. It was his way of distracting himself from the fact that Lisbon had chosen Jane over him. Marcus wasn’t a jealous man, but he was filled with frustration at himself for seeing a future with someone who was so obviously in love with someone else. 

Marcus was never going to be the one Lisbon chose. 

And he should have known better. 

Now, after six months of being in DC, Marcus’s colleagues finally convinced him to take the next couple of days off. Each day was getting better and better, but the pain still lingered. 

He wakes that morning to the sound of a knock at his door. Marcus looks at the time; he’s usually awake and out of the door by six, but with today being his first day off, he had decided to sleep in a little bit. It’s only eight in the morning and Marcus wonders if he just stays in bed that maybe the person knocking on his door would just leave and after a few minutes, the knocking stops. 

With a relieved sigh, Marcus sits up from bed and decides to get ready for the day. He isn’t yet sure what he has planned, but he does know that he wants to keep to himself, to minimize the amount of people he would need to talk to as much as possible. He stands from his bed and stretches his arms above his head, dressed in a white v-neck and plaid boxers. 

“Coffee,” he mumbles to himself. “First thing’s first, need coffee.” Marcus runs a hand over his hair and walks out of his bedroom to the kitchen, beginning to make a pot of coffee for himself. 

He looks around and lets out a sigh. He had imagined that his life in DC would be different, that he’d be with Lisbon, that she’d give more life into this home, but instead, he’s standing alone in a very bland and basic apartment. It has a nice view, but how nice could it be if you can’t share it with anyone else?

He walks to his patio and opens the sliding door. Marcus can hear the sounds of cars – honking and speeding – as it passes below him. He glances over to his right and Marcus can hear the chatter from his neighbor. He doesn’t remember someone living next to him, so he just assumes that it’s someone new moving in. Marcus just hopes that this new neighbor of his won’t keep him up at night. 

His mind drifts to Lisbon and Marcus wonders what she’s doing. Her green eyes and smile had captured his attention from the moment he laid eyes on her. Marcus was sure that what he had with her was real, that it would be his second chance at love after his failed marriage, and for a while, Marcus believed that his life would be different when Lisbon agreed to move in with him to DC, then agreed to marry him. 

Marcus never wanted to let her go. 

His thoughts are interrupted when the coffee pot goes off and the knocking on his door begins again. Marcus figures that the person wouldn’t leave until he answers, so he walks towards his door and opens it. His eyes soften instantly at the sight of you and he’s now become so aware of what he’s wearing. 

“Um–”

“Hi, I’m so sorry. I know it’s early and you’re probably getting ready for work, but I’m having trouble with moving my bed through the door and I just–” you take a deep breath, realizing that you must be rambling and that you’re asking a complete stranger to help you move. 

“Let me start over,” you say. “Hi. Good morning. I’m your new next door neighbor,” you laugh nervously and then tell him your name. 

The corner of Marcus’s lips lifts upwards and he nods, looking over your shoulder at the large bed that’s leaning against the wall. “Nice to meet you. I’m Marcus.” Then, he points to your bed. “You sure that’s gonna fit?” 

“A bit too late for that, I think.” You blush. “I should have just hired movers, but I thought I could do this myself.”

“You’re in luck,” he chuckles. “It’s my day off and I have no plans whatsoever, so I’m happy to give you a hand. Let me just get dressed and I’ll be right out.” 

Then, you look down at his frame and realize what he’s wearing. Your eyes slightly widen and the blush on your cheeks redden even further. “Oh right! I’m so sorry. I’ll just–” you clear your throat and point over your shoulder, turning on your heel and tripping over your feet. “See you in a bit.”

Marcus quietly chuckles to himself. He finds your clumsiness cute and he gives you one more glance before he shuts his door. He walks back into his bedroom and slips into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Marcus walks back into his kitchen and grabs two mugs, pouring the coffee he made into each cup before he walks out of his apartment. When he looks up at you, he smiles when he sees you trying to make the bed fit into the door all by yourself. 

Eager, he thinks to himself. And independent. 

“Hey,” Marcus calls out softly. “Here, take a break.” He hands you a mug of coffee. 

You look up at him and smile, taking the mug from his hand and leaning against the wall with a sigh. “You’re amazing, thank you.” 

“So, it’s just you moving in?” Marcus asks, sipping his cup of coffee.

“Yeah. I got a new job teaching kindergarten at a nearby private school, so…” You take a careful sip of the coffee and look down at your feet. 

“Well, welcome to the club. I just moved here about six months ago.” 

“From where?” 

“Texas, you?” 

“California.” Then, you raise your mug and gently tap it with his, smiling up at him. “Cheers to us newbies here in DC.” 

Marcus chuckles. “Cheers to that.” 

You drink about half of the coffee before you set it down. You then clasp your hands together and look up at him with a hopeful look in your eyes. “You ready?” 

He smiles to himself. “That was barely a break.”

“It was five minutes, that was enough.” 

Marcus chuckles. He finds that it’s easy to talk to you and he’s beginning to enjoy being around you, even if he just met you ten minutes ago. “Alright, you’re the boss.” 

It takes you and Marcus the next half hour to bring your king-sized bed into your apartment and then into your bedroom. Your apartment is a bit smaller than his, but it might also be because of the amount of boxes scattered around. Once you and Marcus set your bed the way you want it to in your bedroom, you lead him back outside to your living room and plops down onto the couch. 

“So, uh, I should get going and–” 

“Wanna grab breakfast?” you interrupt him. “Sorry. If you have something to do, that’s okay. I appreciate all your help, Marcus.” 

Marcus wants so badly to say yes, to get to know more about you, but he has to remind himself that this is what happened last time with Lisbon. He’s sure that love and being in a relationship is no longer something he’s interested in. 

“I actually have to go into the office,” Marcus lies. “But rain check?” 

You nod and stand from the couch to walk him out of your apartment. You smile up at him and then reach down to grab the two mugs that were left in the hallway. You hand it over to him and stare into his eyes. “Next time, I’ll bring coffee to you.” 

Marcus smiles and takes the two mugs. “Sounds like a plan.” 

“Thank you again, Marcus.”

Marcus nods and then begins walking towards his apartment before he turns around and faces you. He’s a few feet away from you and you’re about to walk into your apartment before he stops you and says, “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

—

next.

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

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐕𝐑𝐄

ㅤㅤmarcus pike x art historian!reader

genre: mutual pining, friends to lovers, forced proximity, smut, minors dni,

word count: 6k

summary: when a famous art collector is murdered, circumstances lead you to be temporary roommates with Marcus Pike.

warnings: oral sex (marcus receiving), marcus getting spoiled, some very mild angst, idiots in love

a/n: this work was commissioned by the lovely @sevillagrenada! thank you so much for your support and thank you so much for this delicious idea, I had a blast! ❤️‍🔥

** dividers made my the talented @saradika-graphics 💜💜💜

Another day, another handsome detective at your doorstep.

It’s been a few months since you and Marcus first got acquainted. He had visited you during one of your busiest hours, asking you for information on a recently stolen painting while you were desperately trying to sort out a curated disaster by one of the interns. It didn’t end well. You ended up shouting at him to leave you alone and even though you regretted your choice in showing how distressed you were, it was what it was. What surprised you later, however, was finding him in the early morning hours with two coffees and blueberry muffins. He apologized profusely and asked for a do-over. Something that you were more than eager to oblige. 

And the rest, what most art historians like you would say, was history. 

Now he visits you almost every morning if he can. Thanks to his charm, you were now considered the number one go-to person of the FBI when it came to art theft. A title you didn’t mind having. 

“A bit early even for you, don’t you think?” you say, handing him the folders you’d been carrying. You smile as he lets out an exaggerated “oomph” and go to open the door. “Don’t be a baby, detective.” 

“I just wanted to see you, what’s the harm in that,” he answers, following you inside. “I have the day off tomorrow so I won’t be visiting.” 

“How thoughtful of you.” 

“Good to see that someone appreciates it.” 

He takes a seat as you head for the coffee machine. You’d got it a month ago, saving Marcus the trouble of waiting in line every morning before work. You appreciate having this as an excuse for him to stop by every morning. Luckily, the museum was on his way to work, meaning he was more than happy to visit you. Sometimes it’s hard to forget that this relationship between you two is meant to be nothing other than friendship, a platonic thing. But every day you find your heart swelling more and more at the sight of him. It’s been too long since you felt close to someone. It’s been even longer since you ached for a person you know you shouldn’t ache for. 

“Are you working on something with Remedios Valo?” When you turn you see him hunched over your desk, his eye meet yours, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry, all these books were just sprawled here. I couldn’t help but look.” 

The coffee machine comes to life, the aroma mixing in with the scent of books. 

“That’s alright,” you answer, lips feeling numb. “And yeah, Olivier is adding one of her works to his collection so he wanted me to take a look.” 

“Which one is he buying?” 

You know he absolutely despises the idea of art being bought, hidden from the rest of the world to be a decoration. You hear it in the drop of his voice.  

“Les Feuilles Mortes.” His gaze falls back to the table. “Dead leaves. The one with the woman with orange hair and green dress.” 

He hums when he finally sees it on the page, “It’s a nice one.” 

“It is. It’s one of my favorites.” 

You bring the two cups of steaming coffee. His eyes find yours as you place them down, taking a seat. “You must be excited then,” he states. “To be seeing it in person.” 

“I’m just happy it’s going to someone I know will take care of it.” 

“I did meet him once. Seemed like a decent enough guy.” 

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, “You really hate art collectors don’t you?” 

“With a passion,” a soft smile touches his lips. “But I’ll make an exception for you.” 

You shake your head, smiling into your cup as you bring the steaming liquid to your lips. He’s always like this. Making sure just how much you matter, making you feel cherished, it’s a contrast to how you feel most of the time. Your eyes fall on the painting printed onto the glossy paper. Everyone interprets art differently. In this particular piece, you see loneliness but also a peaceful serenity. The shadow bowing to the woman, them being connected with a piece of blue yarn that she’s holding. The fact that it’s blue and not read also piques your interest. It makes you think it’s not something that is forced, it’s not the fates that brought them together but something else. Something more intimate and free. 

“So, when are you seeing this stunning artwork in person?” 

“Tonight.” 

Marcus already knows that today is going to be a long day. 

He knew it as soon as he entered his office, all fellow agents gathered in one place, murmuring. They parted like the Red Sea when he came through. That’s when the captain told him that extinguished art collector Olivier Balmaceda was found dead. Murdered. 

All he could think of was you. How excited you were to see him, and the painting, tonight. How Olivier was your friend and what would this mean for the investigation? Everyone here knew you, adored you. You being close to the murder victim certainly wasn’t good. He didn’t want you to be involved in any way, not even as a consultant. 

He steps out of the unmarked FBI sedan, his leather shoes echoing against the pavement as he approaches the crime scene. His partner, Tim, follows suit, both agents taking in the scene that awaits them.

The art collector's mansion looms before them, an opulent testament to a life steeped in appreciation for creativity. The air carries a faint scent of antique wood and the unmistakable aura of the art world. As they enter the expansive gallery, it becomes clear that Olivier Balmaceda's passion for art extends far beyond mere aesthetics.

The crime scene, bathed in the soft glow of gallery lights, is surreal. Olivier lies in the heart of his sanctuary, surrounded by the very beauty that defined his existence. The juxtaposition of life and death against the backdrop of artistic brilliance is haunting.

Tim glances at Marcus, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Together, they navigate the intricate dance of art and tragedy. The paintings, sculptures, and tapestries bear witness to the final act of a man whose life was intricately interwoven with the world he cherished.

As Marcus approaches Olivier's lifeless form, he can't help but feel the weight of the art that envelops them.

The art collector's mansion is cloaked in an air of somber anticipation as Marcus's focused gaze is drawn back to Olivier's lifeless form, nestled among the artworks that had once been a source of joy. The forensic team, adorned in pristine white suits, moves with meticulous precision, weaving through the crime scene like careful curators preserving a delicate masterpiece.

"Bullet entry at the back of the head. Looks like a single gunshot," Marcus hears one of them say, his voice a measured cadence amid the artistic silence.

Marcus nods, absorbing the gravity of the information. The team proceeds, each member contributing to the careful orchestration of documentation. His path takes him to the abstract painting, now surrounded by the scrutinizing eyes of forensic experts.

"We're scanning for any hidden messages or anomalies. This painting could hold clues.”

"Keep me posted," Marcus replies.

His attention turns to the delicate sculpture, now cocooned in an evidence bag. Tim approaches, his words a whisper against the backdrop of the gallery.

"Looks like they're treating the whole gallery as a crime scene. Anything stand out to you?" Tim inquires, his voice a muted harmony in the investigative symphony.

"Not yet. We need to dig deeper, find the connections between Olivier and whoever did this," Marcus responds, his words a subtle melody of determination.

The investigation shifts towards Olivier's desk, adorned with sketches and notes – a tableau of potential motives. They meticulously examines the papers, unveiling a narrative hidden within the inked strokes.

"Possible motive here. Let's see if Olivier was working on something that could've angered someone," suggests the expert, their words punctuating the air with a promise of revelation.

Acknowledging their findings, Marcus's thoughts churn with possibilities. Just as the investigation prepares to move to another sector of the mansion, his discerning eyes catch sight of a sketchbook nestled on a nearby shelf. A flicker of curiosity sparks within him, prompting the donning of gloves.

"Hold on a moment," Marcus interjects, a pause that reverberates through the dance of forensic activity.

The team halts, their collective gaze directed towards Marcus as he delicately retrieves the sketchbook. Its presence is unassuming, a silent witness to the unfolding drama. As Marcus flips through its pages, the sketches reveal a familiar artistic style, each stroke a brush with recognition.

"Wait... these look like—" Marcus begins, his words a murmur to the sketches that come to life beneath his fingertips.

Tim glances over, an inkling of recognition in his eyes.

"Isn't that—"

"Yeah. It's hers," Marcus confirms, closing the notebook.

So much for not getting you involved.

“Captain, you can’t be serious.” 

Your eyes are drawn to Marcus, his voice holding the tone of nothing other but disbelief. Your eyes turn to the floor. Olivier is dead. Murdered. And the only proper evidence to connect the dots of what happened is your sketchbook. The sketchbook you could’ve sworn you left in your office. The sketchbook that you only kept to yourself other than Marcus and a couple of more trustworthy people. One of them being Olivier.

You close your eyes. It’s exhausting to breathe. You focus on how your nostrils flare and let it all out through a small gap between your lips. Marcus inches closer, hand firm against the small of your back. 

“I’m dead serious, Agent Pike,” Captain Lana answers, her voice calm yet cold as ice. “Until this entire case is solved, she’s on house arrest and under your care.” 

“Just because we found her sketchbook does not mean she’s a suspect—” 

“Agent Pike,” her voice cuts through the tension in the room. A sharp shudder crawls up your spine, your skin prickling with attention as you open your eyes. Despite her tone, she doesn’t look mad. “You will do what is best for our consultant. As of right now, she is linked to the case of one of the biggest art collectors for reasons we do not know. The best thing we can do is keep an eye on her and protect her.” 

His mouth slams shut, his jaw clenched. His hand deserts your back and in that moment, all you can feel is guilt. Guilt of him being forced to do something he clearly doesn’t want to do. 

To share his home. 

“I understand,” he answers curtly, turning on his heel. “Let’s go get your things.” 

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking to you, shooting Captain Lana a glance, you follow him out of the office. 

Marcus hasn’t said a single word during the entire drive. Even when you finally parked, he just took your bags and led you up the stairs to his apartment. Your heart felt as if it was shattering into a million tiny pieces. The poor organ was already weighted down by your friend's death, and now one of the closest people to you couldn’t even look at you. 

He drops your bags to the floor and you slowly shut the door. You don’t even have it in you to look around, not that it would matter, you’ve already been here before. You doubt anything changed. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything else. “God, Marcus, I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?” 

His hands are on you in an instant, lifting your downturned gaze. You blink away the tears, breath catching in your throat as you meet his eyes. It’s so easy to get lost in them. You could live an eternity there. “For . . for having to stay here. I know it’s inconvenient.” 

“Oh, sweetheart no, no. You could never be an inconvenience. I’m. . . I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I should’ve checked in on you. None of this is your fault understand. None of it,” his thumbs draw slow circles around your cheeks, the knot in your throat growing by the second. “And for all it’s worth, I’m happy that you’re here. I would be worried sick knowing that you’re alone.” 

Suddenly you’re being pulled into his chest, your senses completely enveloped by his scent. He gingerly cups your head from behind, holding you there, allowing you to disappear from the world for a while. 

The first tear escapes unexpectedly. It’s immediately absorbed into his shirt and the rest follows. He doesn’t try to hush you, doesn’t try to get you to stop. He allows you to break down completely. You cry and cry, until there’s nothing left anymore. Only then does he pull back, lifting your gaze to him once more. 

“Feeling better?” 

“Y-Yeah. Thank you, Marcus.” 

He shakes his head, “I’m not doing anything you should be thankful for. This…this is what friends do.” 

That’s right. Friends. 

Your eyes sting when you blink, a forced smile tugging at your lips, “Yeah, friends.” 

You’re almost certain that you’re imagining it, but you swear the crease between his brows deepens with your answer. 

The soft glow of the TV screen bathes the room as Marcus settles onto the couch beside you. “Really? That’s what you want to watch?” 

Marcus raises a brow as he looks down at you. You’re wrapped in a blanket, looking as if the two of you have been living together for years. He loves how you’re already comfortable with the living situation. He wished he could have this in better circumstances without an ongoing murder investigation, but he’ll take what he gets. 

“I haven’t started the new season yet, it’ll be fun.” 

“It’s a murder mystery. Are you sure?” 

You snort, “I know the plot of Only Murders In The Building, Marcus. No need to remind me.” 

As the first episode begins, the room is filled with the intriguing soundtrack of the show. Marcus watches the characters unfold on the screen, but his attention keeps drifting back to you. The play of emotions on your face, the way you get caught up in the plot – it's more captivating to him than any murder mystery.

Gradually, you lean into him, seeking comfort in the shared moment. The warmth of your presence seeps into Marcus's consciousness, and he finds himself entranced by the way you become absorbed in the show. Unconsciously, his arm drapes around your shoulder, the gesture protective yet tender.

In the semi-darkness of the room, Marcus grapples with his own emotions. The line between friend and something more blurs as he navigates the uncharted territory of his feelings. As you snuggle closer, he can feel the gentle rhythm of your breath, the subtle rise and fall of your chest.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Marcus's mind. Does this closeness mean the same to you as it does to him? He wonders if you sense the subtle shift in the dynamics between you. The arm around your shoulder, a silent invitation, speaks volumes, but Marcus Pike remains in that delicate space between uncertainty and the unspoken desire for something more. The murder mystery on the screen becomes a mere backdrop to the complex enigma of emotions unfolding between two souls entangled in the intricacies of life and love.

Marcus's heart races as he lets his hand linger on your waist. He can feel the warmth radiating through the fabric of your shirt, and he wonders if you can feel the heat of his touch as well.

He watches your face, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, but all he sees is the same intensity and focus on the TV. It both thrills and confuses him – is it possible that you can be so oblivious to the way he feels?

But as he watches you, he notices the faint hitch in your breath when his hand moves slightly, as if you're aware of his touch but trying to hide it. It only fuels the growing attraction between them, and Marcus can feel himself getting more and more drawn in.

His mind is filled with images of how he wants to touch you, and he can barely contain the urge to lean in and brush his lips against your neck. He wants to feel your skin against his, to explore every inch of your body.

The tension in the room becomes palpable, and Marcus can feel his heart racing. He looks over at you, and for a moment, he thinks he sees a flicker of desire in your eyes. But just as quickly, it disappears, and you go back to watching the movie without a second glance.

His hand moves even closer to yours, brushing against your fingers lightly. He can feel the heat emanating from your body, and he knows that you're just as affected by the electric chemistry between them.

His mind is clouded with desire, and all he can think about is kissing you, touching you. But he knows he needs to be patient. He can’t just make a move and potentially ruin the friendship you have.

But as the episode goes on, Marcus can barely pay attention anymore. All he can focus on is you, and the way your body moves slightly with each scene. He can feel himself getting harder with each passing moment, and he knows he needs to do something to release the tension.

Without thinking, his hand moves to your thigh, tracing small circles on your skin. He can see your breath hitch and your eyes flutter closed for a split second before you regain your composure.

He leans in closer to you, his lips just inches away from your ear. "Is this okay?" he whispers.

Marcus relaxes when you nod, eyes still glued to the screen. He knows you want to turn to him, to witness his feelings lingering in his eyes but he also knows that you can’t for the same reason why he can’t tell you how he feels. Fear. Fear of rejection. Of loss of a friendship.

So, his hand on your thigh is as far as he’ll go. Soothing you with the simplest of touches. 

The credits roll and the episode ends, Marcus can't help but feel a lingering sense of longing. He knows he needs to push these feelings aside and focus on the case, but he also can't deny the strong connection he feels with you.

As you stand up to turn off the TV, Marcus suddenly reaches out and takes your hand in his, surprising both of you. The air between them is heavy with unspoken words and tension, but they both know this isn’t the time or the place.

For now, they'll focus on solving the murder and catching the killer. But Marcus can't shake the feeling that this shared moment was the beginning of something more – something that could change everything.

It’s been almost two weeks now since you moved in with Marcus. And other than Olivier’s murder, things have been. . . peaceful. He’s been doing everything for you. You’ve never been taken care of to this extent before. It made you feel bad in a way, as if you were a burden to him and now he felt inclined to take care of you just because of the circumstances. 

However, you couldn’t ignore the tension either, the chemistry. Almost every night you thought of when the two of you watched TV. How close the two of you were. You often find yourself thinking about how differently that night could’ve ended. Only if you were brave enough, then maybe the friendship could’ve escalated into something more. 

While heating leftovers for the both of you from last night, the door clicks open. You expect to see his smile, the same question on his lips asking how your day was—but all you can see in his eyes is exhaustion. He forces a smile when he sees you, then silently heads to his room. Your lungs cave in on itself. Your body buzzing with worry, you look down at the barely heated leftovers. He deserves something more. Something fresh. 

So, as you quickly head down the hall to check on him, you order his favorites. You come to a halt at the door, heart beating in your throat, you knock. 

“I’ll be right there,” he says, almost apologetically, which makes you feel even worse. 

“I just wanted to check if you’re alright. Can I. . . Can I come in?” 

You’re about to head back to the living room when the door slowly opens. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, the first three buttons of his shirt wide open, exposing skin. You barely manage to tear your gaze away. He looks vulnerable, defeated. 

“I’m okay,” he clears his throat. “I promise.” 

You ignore what he says and take a step forward, forcing the both of you inside the bedroom. It smells of cinnamon. “I ordered us some food from that place you like. We have some time to relax.” 

“Relax?” 

You let out the breath you’ve been holding and trap his face between your hands. You want to make him feel good. You want to pamper him. At least this one time, you want to do something for him instead. You know what his answer is going to be if you ask him about his day—he’ll brush you off, because it’s the case you’re involved in. The murder of your friend. 

“Let me make you feel good, Marcus.” 

His eyes widen, lashes fluttering, his lips part, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I know I don’t have to but I want to.” You quickly add when you see the hesitation growing in his eyes. “Please.” 

You notice the hollow in his cheek, the way his jaw moves as he chews on the inside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. After what feels like hours, his head jerks in a small nod, “Okay.” 

Marcus gently falls onto the bed and you drop to your knees, taking a place between his spread legs. You can feel his eyes on you. His gaze intense as you fumble with his belt. You tug down his pants along with his underwear, his hips slightly lifting to make it easier for you. His cock is still soft. It makes a certain type of hunger grow inside you. Placing both hands on his thighs, you dip down, taking him into his mouth. He sharply inhales, cock twitching over your tongue. It doesn’t take him long to grow in your mouth, and suddenly swallowing him down proves to be harder than you thought. 

Your nostrils flare as you attempt to swallow him down, your nose brushing against the soft curls. His hand gently cradles the back of your head, and when you look up you see his head falling back, his brows furrowed as he breathes heavily through his nose. 

Parting away, you suck the base of his cock, your tongue swirling. His hips jerk and a moan rips from his throat. “That—that feels good,” he swallows. 

“You like it slow?” you say, lips moving against sensitive skin. “Tell me how you like it. Show me.” 

“You’re doing great sweetheart, just do it how it’s best for you,” he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I’m not picky.” 

Brows knitting together, you pull away and fix him a half-hearted glare. You wrap your fingers around and begin to stroke him, witnessing the flex of his thighs. “I want to do it how you like it,” you state. “Show me or I’ll stop.” 

Your lips curl as you hear him whine. It’s such a beautiful sound. 

“Fine.” 

He drags you back down to his cock, your hand falling away. You open your mouth to take him once more, thinking that he wants to fuck your mouth, but instead, he presses your lips to the side of his cock. You feel the heat of him, the bulging of his veins. 

“Wrap your lips,” he rasps and when you do, he starts to move your head up and down. 

You let out a muffled moan, the vibrations sending shivers down Marcus’ spine. His movements are slow, almost as if he’s fucking himself deep into you—almost as if he’s been thinking about this for months. Your head bobs up and down, your lips pursed around him tightly. You hear him grunt above you, and you can tell that he’s struggling to keep himself in control. 

“Put your hands back on my thighs,” Marcus commands, and you do so without hesitation. “I want to feel the bite of your nails.” His thighs are shaking beneath your touch, and you can feel the coiled tension inside him, just waiting to snap. You do as he asks, digging your nails slightly into the flesh. Another whimper falls for him, a sounds desperate and needy at the same time. He pulls up and finally slips himself into your warm mouth, your eyes water as he pushes you down, taking him whole. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” Marcus grunts, his voice punctuated by the wet sounds of your mouth on his cock. 

You keep up the pace, eager to please him. You can feel his cock growing harder and harder inside your mouth, and you can tell that he’s close. You swirl your tongue around him, pressing your lips even tighter around him. 

“Fuck,” Marcus mutters, his hand gripping your hair tightly. “I’m gonna—” 

Before he can finish his sentence, he releases into your mouth with a deep groan, his hips bucking up into your face. You eagerly take him in, swallowing around him as he spills, hot come trailing down your throat. He lets out a heavy sigh, his body going limp as he comes down from his orgasm. 

You sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Marcus looks at you with admiration and slight embarrassment, his cheeks peppered with a faint shade of red. 

“Sorry, that was quick,” he murmurs, tugging you up and pulling you to his lap. “Now it’s your turn.” 

He leans towards your lips but you stop him by pressing two fingers, they’re soft. “We can think about me later,” you say, despite the inside of your panties being an absolute wet mess. “I just wanted to make you feel good.” 

“I want to make you feel good too,” he objects, nipping at your fingers. “Don’t you. . . I thought you wanted me.” 

The guilt in his eyes is back and your hand drops away from his lips. He’s holding you tight as if you might disappear.  

“I do,” you answer tentatively. “But I don’t want you to jump into this thinking you have to. I don't want you to do anything you might regret.” 

“Regret?” he shakes his head. “What does that even mean? I’m not jumping into anything. I’m not confused if that’s what you’re worried about,” his arms around you tighten, and with that, you know you’ve said the wrong thing. “You just sucked my cock—are you telling me that was out of pity? Gratitude?” 

You cut him off, “N–No. . .” 

“Then what was it?” his voice drops dangerously low, eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. “I’m one hundred percent here. It has nothing to do with the case. And for you to do something just because you felt bad for me. . . I thought we were finally getting somewhere after all of this.” 

“Marcus—”

“I think I want to be alone right now,” he turns his head away from you but doesn’t do anything to push you off of him. Your apology dies in your throat, your mouth suddenly dry. You slowly move away, the taste of his come still in your mouth as you contemplate what to do. What to say. 

But whatever you were planning evaporates with the ring of the doorbell.  

You’re sitting on the couch when Marcus comes home and sits on the armchair right across from you. You’re eyes slowly shift from your phone to meet his gaze, he continues to stare down, his thumbs thrumming over his thighs. 

It’s been an awkward couple of days after the argument you two had. Neither of you were brave enough to broach the subject, However, that didn’t mean what happened didn’t haunt you in the dead of night, both in a bad and a good way. 

“It’s done.” 

His words send a chill down your spine, your muscles tightening, “What’s done?” 

“The case. We found who murdered Olivier. . . and how your notebook got there.” Marcus takes a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours as he begins to unravel the mystery that has been hanging over your heads like a storm cloud.

"Olivier's murder... it was someone close to him. Both rival and friend," Marcus starts, his voice heavy with the weight of the revelation. "Turns out, his friend had been eyeing the same collection for years. When Olivier outbid him for that prized painting, it pushed him over the edge."

You feel a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of shock and sorrow swirling within you. Olivier, with his vibrant personality and passion for art, didn't deserve such a fate.

"And my notebook...?" you prompt, needing to understand how your own belongings ended up tangled in this tragedy.

Marcus sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Olivier... he wanted to show your sketches to one of his friends. He thought you had real talent and he was planning on gifting you that painting."

Your heart sinks at the realization. Olivier, you’re going to miss him. Marcus wraps his arms around you, offering comfort and support as the weight of the emotions you've been suppressing finally spills over. You lean into him, the warmth of his embrace a soothing balm for the wounds of the past few days. His touch is both reassuring and grounding, reminding you that you're not alone in this tumultuous journey.

"I'm here," he murmurs softly, his fingers gently tracing comforting patterns on your back. "It’s over now. You can return to your life and begin to heal."

“Heal?” you blin at him, lips parting. “Return to my life? What does that even mean? We can’t go back to normal Marcus. Not after everything. . . I—” You swallow, the knot thick in your throat. “I care about you, Marcus. I care about you deeply and I just want you to know that. I don’t want you to think it was a one-time thing. Ot that I did it because of the circumstances. I did it because I wanted to. And I wanted to long before any of this happened.” 

As your heartfelt confession hangs in the air, Marcus's eyes soften, his expression reflecting a mixture of relief and affection. Without hesitation, he leans in, closing the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. It's a moment of shared vulnerability, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

The warmth of his touch ignites a spark within you, a reassurance that despite the challenges you've faced, your connection remains unbroken. In this intimate embrace, you find solace and hope for the future, knowing that whatever trials may come, you'll face them together.

As the kiss deepens, the weight of the past few days begins to lift, replaced by a sense of renewal and possibility.

Marcus's hands move to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he deepens the kiss. You feel his body pressing against yours, igniting a fire within you. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as your fingers tangle in his hair.

His lips move fervently against yours, conveying the unspoken emotions that have been building between you for weeks. You can feel his heart beating against your chest and it's a comforting reminder that you're not alone in this moment.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a tingle in their wake. You let out a soft gasp, arching your neck to give him better access. His hands roam over your body, his touch setting every nerve alight. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

Your fingers move to his shirt, desperate to rid him of the barriers separating your skin.  His lips trail down your neck again, moving to your shoulder, his hands roaming freely over your body. You let out a soft moan, arching your back as his hands reach your waist, pulling your shirt off. The cool air hits your skin but it's nothing compared to the heat radiating between you two.

Marcus and you remove each other's clothes. Your hands roam hungrily over his bare chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. He moans softly, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands move to your back, unhooking your bra and gently sliding it off. Your bare chest presses against his, skin against skin, and the sensation sends sparks of pleasure through your body. Your lips meet again, his tongue moving alongside yours, his hands roaming lower to your waist and down to your hips, pulling you closer.

You push him down to the couch, your hands reaching for his jeans. With ease, you undo the button and slide them off, revealing his toned legs and the bulge in his boxers. Your fingers trail down his stomach, feeling his muscles contract under your touch.

He flips you over, his lips moving down your neck and to your chest. With a flick of his tongue, he takes one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, causing you to arch your back and let out a soft moan of pleasure. His hands reach down, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them off your legs.

As his lips continue to travel down your body, his fingers slide into your underwear, eliciting a gasp from you. You can feel the heat and wetness building between your legs, the tingling sensation increasing with every touch.

In one swift movement, he removes your underwear, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable to his touch. But with Marcus, you feel anything but vulnerable. In his embrace, you feel safe, loved, and desired.

And you know that is something that will never change. 

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #writing commission #the mentalist fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic

[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

[harmonity-vibes]

Imagine

You do photoshoots with Marcus Pike.

#marcus pike x you #fictional characters #imagines #fictional boyfriend #pedro pascal #fictional crushes #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal edit #baby pedro🥺 #pedro boys #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedrohub #pedrostories #pedrito #pedro is daddy #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ppascaledit #pedropascaledit

[forever-rogue]

hi! i love your fics so much and always know i can come here when i need some comfort…which i am in need of. i went on a first date yesterday and was told today that he “had another relationship in progress” and with that and job hunting i just keep feeling unwanted. i was wondering if i could request a fic where marcus p comforts his secretly-in-love-with-each-other best friend reader? thank you so much!! 💜💜💜

AN | It’s been a minute since I’ve written some Marcus and…here we are! I hope you all know how wonderful and amazing you are! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

Warnings | None

Word Count | 1.9k

Masterlist | PP Characters, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Good morning sunshine,” the cup of coffee and bagel that were dropped in front of you on your crowded desk caught you off guard and you almost jumped out of your chair. The warm laugh that met your ears made you feel the slightest bit better, as you looked up and allowed yourself to look at his handsome face, “should I even bother to ask how you are?”

“G’morning,” you mustered up the closest semblance of a smile that you could manage as he just grinned at you. If he thought you were sunshine, he must have been all of the stars combined, “didn’t sleep well last night is all.”

“Oh,” his smile wavered for a moment before he quickly recovered, “I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe you could duck out a little early and get a nap. I’m sure the boss won’t mind.”

“Thanks Marcus,” your face warmed at your boss’ little wink and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making any sounds, “you’re the best. Best boss and friend.”

“I try,” he took a sip of his own coffee before realization hit him, “hey - your date was last night! How did that go?”

“Umm,” you had been dreading this very moment. You knew he would eventually remember to ask, but you hadn’t planned on volunteering any information. He beat you to the punch. You picked at a bit of your bagel before shrugging lightly, “it went. Fine. Yeah…just fine.”

“Fine?” he parroted, perching himself at the edge of your desk as you just nodded, “doesn’t seem fine. You were excited to go out with him - what happened?”

“Marcus,” you bit your lip and leaned back in your chair before sighing heavily, “he basically told me that he wasn’t looking for anything serious right now. Which is fine enough, we’d never discussed whether it would be serious or casual or whatever. But then he told me that he basically already had another relationship that was just starting and he wanted that to be serious, and then basically said he’d only want to hook up. So, yeah. That was that.”

“Sweetheart, that’s-”

“Surprisingly not the worst date I’ve been on,” you admitted with a bitter laugh before blinking at the stinging in your eyes, “it’s just…it’s my fault for not asking sooner but I feel like that’s something he should have said as well, right? I dunno…it would just be nice to be someone’s first choice for once. It sounds so stupid - and whiney - and I don’t know. It is what it is. I’m sorry for rambling, Marcus. I shouldn’t bother you with my problems like this.”

“It’s not a bother - you are never a bother. And second, I want you to tell me all of this stuff,” he insisted softly, “you’re my…best friend. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry that happened. I know you were looking forward to that date.”

“Thank you,” you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before pulling yourself back together, “well, that’s another frog that didn’t turn out to be a prince. On to the next one…eventually.”

“Hey,” he seemed nervous suddenly and you looked at him expectantly. It wasn’t like him to be shy and reserved, at least not with you, “w-what are you -”

Before he could say anything further, the phone at your desk began ringing shrilly. He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply as you offered him an apologetic look before moving to grab the call. You moved a small sorry as he just nodded, moving away from your desk, but not before casting a quick glance back at you. You didn’t even notice, already too wrapped up in your call. 

“Get it together Pike,” he chastised himself as he made the trek across the floor to his own office. He was sure this was the time he was going to ask you on a date and actually make sure you knew it was a date, and not just friends spending time together. He’d only been trying to do so for the last…four years? Fuck, how had it become four years without him making a move on you? You, the woman that had managed to capture his heart and soul. But now, he realized, he was going to need to make a move or you’d be lost to him forever. Eventually someone was going to come along and treat you right, and he was determined to be the one, “just do it.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were about halfway through a pint of ice cream, watching your newest trash tv obsession - and thoroughly judging their petty little problems - when a knock came at your apartment door. Tossing the spoon back into the container, you sighed heavily and debated ignoring the knocking. You couldn’t even think of who it would be at this time of evening; you certainly weren’t expecting anyone…

“Coming,” you put on your slippers before trudging to the door, opening it without checking to see who it was. Which, in hindsight, was probably a bad idea, but the thought hadn’t even occurred to you. But your surprise - and delight - there was Marcus on the other side of the door, “hi Marcus. I wasn’t expecting you…please tell me I didn’t forget movie night…”

“No,” he shook his head with a small little huff of laughter, sticking his hands into his pockets nervously. He was still wearing his suit, clearly having worked late and come straight from the office, “I just…wanted to come see you.”

“What’s the matter? Did something happen?” you motioned towards his suit and he shook his head. You reached for his hand and pulled him inside and into the warm, gently shutting the door behind him, “do you want hot chocolate or anything? Coffee? A drink?”

“No, thank you,” he leaned against the counter and you raised your eyebrow at him, “I need to talk to you.”

“Me?” Now it was your turn to be nervous but he eased any worries by shaking his head, “is everything alright, Marcus? You seem…off.”

“You told me about your date,” the reminder caused you to frown but you nodded anyway, “and I hate the fact that it was awful for you. Because you deserve the best - everything. The fact that your date didn’t work out made me happy - not because of your disappointment but because it means…it means I might still have a shot with you.”

“A shot with me?” you looked at him with wide eyes and his cheeks flushed a brilliant red before he gave you a small nod. Your mind was positively reeling at his little confession, and you were sure that you had heard him incorrectly, “what do you mean?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” his words held no malice as your eyes grew wide and nervous. He seemed to calm down after a few moments as you willed him to say those words you had been desperate to hear for so long. It seemed like a dream come true; never in a million years had you thought that Marcus Pike, not only your best friend but also your boss, would feel that way about you. You’d been harboring a crush on him for what seemed like an eternity now, dreaming that one day he would be your prince among the endless sea of frogs.

“Marcus?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“I…oh, wait. What?” you looked at him in confusion and he laughed, unsure if he should be nervous or happy. He could practically see the gears turning in your head as you tried to make sense of what he’d said, “what do you mean, you’re in love with me? Like…you love me? Do you mean it? I don’t want you to ever say just because."

"I'm not, sweetheart. I mean it -"

"Because I really like you, Marcus. And I'm in love with you. I think I have been for a long time. Probably since we first met. And I've been looking for what I have with you in so many others but nothing has ever come close. That's how I knew-"

"Sweetheart."

"And I've been wanting to ask you out for a long time, but just couldn't do it," you were speaking so rapidly, waving your hands around that you completely missed the way Marcus was watching you with nothing short of pure adoration, "and if this is just some sort of pity thing or you don't really want me, just say it. I don't think I could ever handle being heartbroken by you. Anyone else, I'd live, but never of it was you."

Before you could ramble on any further, Marcus took the chance in your quietness and tenderly put his hand on your cheek before leaning in to brush his lips against yours. That managed to silence you, your nervous rambles cut off and the thoughts swirling around your mind turned into static. Holy fuck. Marcus was really kissing you. 

And he was good at it; it felt so right. It felt like you’d been doing this for eons before. It took a few moments before your brain caught up to what was happening, and once it did, you almost pushed him off of you. You made a small sound as you looked at him with wide eyes. 

“You kissed me,” you stated the obvious as your glance drifted from his eyes to his lips and back. He looked amused and nodded, “why?”

“I thought it might get you to calm down,” he grinned, “you were rambling. And I wanted you to know that I felt the exact same about you. You’ve been it for me for a long time.”

“Oh,” the corners of your mouth quirked up into a small smile, “oh. I never would have thought that you felt the same. I might have asked you out…or just kept pining after you.”

“We were never just friends, were we?” he gently brushed a few locks of hair out of your face, before stroking his thumb over your cheek, “maybe it just took us a while to get there.”

“Yeah,” you leaned into his touch, marveling at how soft his hand was, “will you do it again?”

“Do what?” he asked as you grew sheepish, worrying your bottom lip, “sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me again?” your voice was barely above a whisper but he heard you loud and clear. 

“Of course,” he nodded, leaning in again so his lips were almost brushing against yours, “I could do that forever.”

“I hope you do, Marcus Pike,” you grinned before kissing him softly, “I hope you do.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader

[moralesispunk]

Surprise Guest (Marcus Pike x Wife! Reader)

Summary: The vows have been said, the first kiss as husband and wife shared, and now Marcus has one last surprise for you on your wedding day

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: established relationship, kissing, smut, oral (m/f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, a few ass slaps (this is Marcus)

Notes: so this does follow on from It’s a Nice Day for a White Wedding but you don’t need to have read that first! also there is mention of Marcus telling reader about his earring in college and again it is based on this thought but you don’t have to have read that first - it was just a fun little addition!

*****

The whole day has been wonderful; as you sip your champagne and look out across the collection of close family and friends who flew across the Atlantic to spend the day with you both you can’t help the smile that takes over your face, even if one of the most important people - your new husband and the groom - is nowhere to be found.

After waking up side by side, you and Marcus going your separate ways only long enough to get ready, you were back together and attached at the hip ever since being announced as the new Mr and Mrs Pike. The whole day had been a blur until now - there were tears as you shared vows, tender touches with your first kiss as husband and wife, good food and drink and plenty of photos taken of you together with the guests - but you had been aware of Marcus’s presence by your side the whole time.

He had held your hand when you turned to face the guests, hands clasped and raised above your head as your guests cheered and threw confetti over you and you walked back down the aisle. His hand had been on the bottom of your back as you navigated your way around the champagne reception shaking hands and accepting congratulations. That same hand had made its way down to your leg, resting on the silky material you wore as you ate dinner in the center of the one long table filled with guests, before reaching for yours and spinning you into his arms as you made your way to the dancefloor - holding one hand against his chest and his other resting on your back as you danced along to the wedding band and he whispered in your ear.

It had made it all the stranger that as you stood at the edge of the dancefloor now, with another glass of champagne in your hand, you couldn’t find your new husband anywhere. You searched over the crowd that was dancing along to the band for those beautiful dark curls with speckled grays and a well-fitted tux, the bright smile that hadn’t left his face since you woke up together this morning, but when you came up short again you went in search of him.

Your Maid of Honor, your lifelong best friend since the first day of school - Lucy, had danced over to you and you bent down enough to shout over the music.

“Have you seen Marcus?”

She shook her head, reaching for the glass and taking a sip with an apologetic smile as she caught her breath from dancing with one of Marcus’s cousins - you had noticed them earlier, raising your eyebrow in her direction with a smirk as she shyly shrugged you off.

You looked over the crowd once more but when you noticed that the rest of the groomsmen were also out of sight you guessed they had gone for a quiet drink inside.

The song that was playing came to an end and a scattering of applause and cheers followed as you took your glass back from Lucy, your fingers tapping along the side of it as the singer approached the mic.

“We’re going to take a short break but in the meantime, can I ask all of you to please put your hands together-”

“What’s going on?” Lucy whispered in your ear but you just shrugged, turning to face the stage.

“- For a very special, one off performance, by ‘Burning Art’.”

You could feel Lucy turning to you, a wide smile on her own face as you threw your head back with a laugh and placed your glass down on the nearest table before dragging her towards the front of the stage.

‘Burning Art’ was an - aptly named - band that Marcus had been a member of during college, the guitarist and singer friends from his Art History degree and the drummer being his brother, Steven.

You had seen photos of him from his band days, the one that most often came to mind taken while he was playing at a college bar - his eyes closed and bottom lip between his teeth as he held the bass out in front of him. His hair was slightly longer and not sporting the few grays that were now there; he even had the earring he had told you about one night when you couldn't sleep and the story did nothing but spur on your tired giggles. There was a video out there, the sound quality poor but the video enough to give you a glimmer of your now husband bobbing along to the heavy music. You always teased him, lovingly, about it and on your bachelorette night your bridesmaids had t-shirts made to look like groupies of ‘Burning Art’. 

By the time you were at the front the band were stepping onto the stage. Marcus walked to the right, his tux jacket and bow-tie gone and his shirt sleeves rolled up as he found his place on the platform the wedding band had been on only a moment before.  He raised his hand in a wave, a chorus of cheers coming in response from the wedding party who had all found their way to the dancefloor as his best men - Luke, Charlie and his brother Steven - all stepped up and took their places while Marcus nervously fixed the strap attached to the bass that was now hanging over his shoulders. 

Marcus winked down at you, his head turning towards Steven as he introduced the band - an extra loud applause for Marcus as the groom - and you placed your hands at the side of your mouth and cheered him on. 

Not a moment later their music started, heavy rock flooding out from the speaker as the dancefloor was filled with guests who all danced along. You couldn’t take your eyes off of Marcus, your hand holding your dress up enough to jump and dance about as he kept his eyes on you, winking ever so often before leaning into the mic to sing along. It was everything you had ever dreamt of and more - the perfect surprise. You and Lucy spun each other around, heads bobbing to songs you had never heard before but felt very Marcus. 

It often surprised people when they found out Marcus had been in a band, especially if he was wearing his work suit with the FBI: Art Crimes badge on show when he told them, but it hadn't surprised you. There was always a glimmer of something beneath his 9-5 persona; of his driving to work playlist made up of alt-rock and the old punk band posters that were scattered between movie posters from black and white romances. 

They played three songs, Marcus growing more confident with each one. You wondered how long they had planned this, how they had even had time to practice with most of them living in different states now, but they all played and sang like they were still in their early twenties rather than forties. 

Marcus was the most reserved out of them all - a smile plastered across his face when he wasn’t concentrating and his head bobbing along to the music as his hands moved along the bass.

And oh God why hadn’t you looked at his hands until now. His fingers were working along the neck of the bass and his forearms flexing with each move, a heat suddenly crawling up your neck when you finally looked into his eyes and that bastard smirked at you. He knew exactly what he was doing; his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip before bringing it between his teeth, his sleeves rolled up like he knew sent you wild, his eyes crinkling at the corners where he was fighting back a full blown smile.

How early was too early to make an escape from your own wedding?

The last song came to an end and you cheered louder than anyone else, finding your way to the side of the stage where Marcus jumped down and headed straight for you. His smirk growing shy before you reached your hand out and he took it in his own.

“Didn’t know I was getting married to a rock star,” you teased and he pulled you against him, a kiss shared as he spoke against your lips with a smile. 

“Turns out your new husband is full of surprises.”

Your head tilted back with a laugh and Marcus smiled down at you, his arm wrapped around your waist as the wedding band took to the stage again.

“How did you plan all this?”

“I have my ways…” Marcus smiled, a sparkle in his eyes, “you always talk about how you wished you could see us, just once, so what better excuse than today.”

“I love you,” you shook your head, standing higher on your toes to press a kiss against his lips as the band began to play again.

“May I have this dance, Mrs Pike?” He asked. 

“This dance, and every other for the rest of our lives,” you slipped your hand into his and began to walk onto the dance floor. 

*****

Your giggles echoed around the hall as Marcus bent down, swiping an arm under the backs of your knees as the other held around your back, lifting you from the floor and carrying you against his chest.

“It’s tradition!’ He laughed and you shook your head, hooking your arms around his neck.

“We didn’t really follow a lot of traditions Marcus,” you rolled your eyes, the pleasant ache from between your thighs evidence enough of spending the night before together.

“Give me this one then, hm?”

You just smiled back at him, a wide grin taking over most of his face as he looked at you. By the time you reached your room you slipped your hand into his tux jacket that he had thrown back on. It was a bit of a struggle, Marcus lifting you higher as you tried to unlock and open the door, but eventually you managed it and Marcus kicked it to open it wider, the door hitting against the doorstop with a bang. 

“Whoops,” he laughed, turning on his side and walking you both into his room.

You thought it was just for show, carrying you over the threshold to drop you once you were in, but he carried you straight through the sitting room and into the bedroom, only placing you back down when you reached the bottom of the bed.

Without your shoes off you were back tilting your head up to look at him, his hands already moving to take off his tux jacket and throw it over the back of a chair.

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” He smiled, shaking his head as he cupped your cheeks in his hands and bent down to kiss you.

“You might have said that once or twice,” you whispered back, Marcus smiling against your lips as you teased him.

“Well I,” he kissed you once more, “plan to tell you that plenty more.”

He turned you around, moving the hair away from your neck as he kissed down your soft skin, from behind the ear down to your shoulder before nudging the strap of your dress over a little to kiss even more.

“But as beautiful as you look in this dress,” he whispered and you shivered as his breath ghosted the back of your neck, goosebumps now covering your arms, “can I see you out of it now?”

You nodded, moving his hand that had settled on your waist to the buttons on the back of your dress. He continued to kiss along your neck and shoulder as he worked to undo the buttons, occasionally dragging his teeth along your skin and chuckling when you gasped or licking along your ear and reveling in how you would quietly moan and lean back against him.

Once enough of the buttons were undone for him to be able to slip the dress down a groan came from the back of his throat as each inch of skin was revealed to him. When the dress finally pooled around your feet he held your hand and you took a step away from him, turning to face him as he took his bottom lip between his teeth and let his eyes drag down your body that was now only covered in a lace bodice. 

His hands were already working open his shirt as he stalked around the dress towards you, an eyebrow raising as you took one step back. He took another step forward, smirking as you stepped back again, the shirt soon thrown on the floor and his hands gripping the back of your thigh as he pressed you against the wall.

He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he rocked his cock that was straining against his suit trousers against your center and your eyes fluttered closed. He did this a few times, your breath growing heavy and echoing around the room as he kissed back and forth along your chest that was starting to spill out of the lace bodice.

When you eventually opened your eyes Marcus pulled back, his eyes - despite being pools of black by now - were holding a little more sparkle than usual as he lifted you from the wall and carried you over to the bed where he lay you between the pillows. As soon as he knelt between your legs you sat up, your hands fumbling with his belt and button as he tilted his head and looked down at you, his fingers stroking back and forth across your jaw until you finally pulled him out and wrapped your hands around his cock. He threw his head back, his stomach muscles tensing and shaking as you shuffled around so you were kneeling forward before him, one hand steadying your weight as the other remained wrapped around his cock and you arched your back that bit more on your hands and knees before him.

Marcus let out a breathy chuckle that soon turned moan as soon as your lips wrapped around the tip, your tongue peeking out to lick up the precum that was already there as his palm began to rub up and down your back, working open the metal clasps until your bodice fell away beneath you. 

“Just like that, honey, fuck- just like that,” he gasped.

You were now only in your white lace panties as you took Marcus further into your mouth, his hands touching you everywhere as you did so.

He let his large palm run down the middle of your back before sliding it around your side and twisting and pulling on your nipple until you were gasping around his cock. He wrapped his arm around your bicep and slid it down to your forearm, easing the ache from awkwardly holding your weight up. He finally slapped his hand across your ass and his cock slipped deeper into your mouth causing you to moan around him and he swore under his breath.

“Fuck, honey, come here,” he tugged on your elbow and pulled you off of him, waiting until you were knelt before him before he took your face in his hands.

Your mascara had started to run and your lips were wet and hanging open as you tried to catch your breath. His mouth pressed hungrily against yours, pushing your body back until your head was laid on the pillows and he had kicked his trousers and boxers off.

His tongue licked into your mouth, tasting himself on you, and his hips rocked down against you - only the thin lace acting as a barrier between you. Your legs had wrapped around his waist again, lifting from the mattress ever so slightly as you tried to grind back down against him chasing that friction you needed.

“I know, I know,” he kissed down your jaw, shuffling his weight down your body.

He kissed everywhere, back and forth along your chest before taking one of your nipples into his mouth after teasing it relentlessly while circling his tongue around it. He flicked his tongue back and forth, his hand that wasn’t holding his weight up coming to play with the other as you arched your back off the bed and he could feel how wet you were as you rocked against his stomach.

“Marcus, please,” you whined and he let your nipple fall from his mouth.

Your eyes were still squeezed shut, a small crease between your brows as your fingers curled into the pillows by your head.

“Please… what?” He asked, now no longer touching you.

His breath fanned across your chest with each word, making your nipples hard and you tried to drag his hand back to it but he shook his head with a smile.

“Please… what?” He repeated. “Words, baby.”

“Marcus, please,” you whined opening your eyes and looking back at him, “I want you to fuck me.”

He groaned at your words, his head dipping down to nip at the skin below your breast and you gasped.

“And I want to taste my pretty wife,” he kissed down your stomach, “are you going to let me do that?”

You nodded, your head shuffling against the pillows, but when he raised an eyebrow up at you, you spoke again

“Yes.”

Your eyes settled between his thighs as he knelt up, his cock resting proudly against his stomach, and when he finally tore his eyes away from you as he dragged the lace down your legs he smiled.

“See something you like?”

He tilted his head with a smirk, his hand coming to wrap around his cock as he pumped it a few times in his fist and your hips rocked against nothing as you sought any kind of friction to remove some of the need that weighed heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your tongue poked out to wet your bottom lip and he closed his eyes, enjoying himself for a moment longer, before letting go as his cock pressed back against his stomach and he opened his eyes.

“Soon, honey,” he lay back between your thighs and pressed a kiss against the crease, “soon.”

You could only see his eyes but with the way they were almost closed and crinkled at the side you knew he was beaming up at you, a wink sent your way before his eyes flicked down. 

He teased you relentlessly, kissing back and forth between your thighs and up to your stomach all the while missing the place you needed him the most. He hadn’t even touched you there yet and you were already dripping, the bed sheets below you already wet when Marcus finally touched you, running a finger up your slit as he moaned your name.

“You’re so wet, honey,” he groaned, sitting back a little to watch as he pushed one finger in, and then another, his digits sliding in with ease. “Fuck-”

He cut himself off, his eyes closing and mouth wrapping around your clit. Your back arched off the bed, a low groan coming from the back of your throat when he finally gave you what you needed. It was too much and not enough all at once, his fingers curling deep inside you and his tongue flicking back and forth as his shoulders held your legs open for him.

You could have been embarrassed of how quickly you came - of how loud you screamed his name and gripped the sheets by your head - had it not been for how quickly Marcus surged up your body; his fingers still buried deep inside and pulling the last of your orgasm from you as your body shook and his mouth slanted over yours.

You could taste yourself on him, his chin that was coated in your slick spreading the mess against yours, and your hand slid between your bodies to wrap around his cock as he removed his fingers from you.

“Marcus, Marcus, Marcus,” you sighed and he nodded, his forehead resting against your temple as he brushed your hand off his cock and lined himself up.

He pushed into you in one, slow thrust; his head turning and catching your mouth with his as he swallowed each gasp and moan as he rocked into you.

Your hands ran up his back, dragging your nails along his strong back as you felt it flex beneath your touch each time he rocked his hips into yours. His forearm came to settle by your head and you broke from the kiss, turning and wrapping your hand around his wrist and kissing the skin there as he buried his face against your neck.

These forearms - what attracted your attention every time he rolled his sleeves up after a long day of work or when he had you sitting up on the kitchen counter and you watched every flex as he pumped his fingers in and out of you - you kissed along them until he pulled back, his fingers tangling with yours as he wrapped your leg higher around his waist with his other hand.

“Look at you,” he sighed.

His hand let go of your thigh, coming down to smack your ass twice before he gripped it hard, pulling you against each thrust.

“My pretty. Beautiful. Smart. Funny. Wife,” he punctuated each word with a thrust and by the end your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, your nails digging into his biceps.

“Yes!” You gasped on a particularly hard thrust. “Fuck, yours, Marcus, yours.”

He moved his weight from his hand to his elbow, his mouth brushing against yours when he spoke again.

“Touch yourself, honey, make yourself come around your husband’s cock.”

You slipped your hand between your bodies that were now both covered in a sheen of sweat and you began to draw circles against your clit that you knew would send you over the edge.

“There you go,” Marcus groaned, “can already feel you squeezing my cock. You're going to come again aren’t you?”

You could only nod against him, his forehead resting against yours as you both looked down at where your bodies met.

“I’m so close,” you gasped and he nodded, his hips hitting against yours with enough force to move you higher and higher on the bed.

“Let go, honey. Let me feel you,” he said, dragging his eyes away from where he was thrusting inside you to meet your eyes.

It didn’t take long, that coil that had wound tight once more snapping and you forced yourself to keep your eyes open. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream and Marcus did the same, his face inching closer and closer with the crease between his brow growing deeper until a whine left the back of his throat, his eyes closing as his hips slowed and grew harder as he spilled inside you.

Your hand came to hold his cheek, lifting your head from the pillow enough to press your lips against his and swallow his moans. You kissed hungirly until he stilled, his arms aching from how he held himself above you but his kisses grew gentle and slow as he softened inside you. Eventually he slipped out, his body rolling to the side as he pulled you against him.

You were both breathing heavily, your head resting on his chest as you could feel his heart hammer against his chest the same way yours was doing.

“Is this your new thing then?” You asked and he looked down, raising an eyebrow at you. “Calling me your pretty wife during sex?”

A flush covered his cheeks and he swatted playfully at your ass.

“Not just during sex, I plan to be calling you that every chance I get,” he leant down and kissed you, “my wife.”

“Mmm,” you hummed contently against his mouth, “I like that sound of that.”

Your head fell back to rest against his shoulder and he began to stroke up and down your back.

“I love you, so much honey,” he sighed, kissing your temple.

You sat up and rested your chin on his chest, staring up and his dazed smile with your own.

“I love you,” you kissed the closest skin you could find, “my husband.”

Marcus breathed a laugh, reaching for your hand where the ring lay as he stroked back and forth along the gold band.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he said, shaking his head with a smile before closing his eyes and lifting your hand enough to kiss where the band lay.

“I do,” you sat up and swung your leg over him, your hands reaching for his own as you lifted it to your mouth and pressed your lips on top of the ring. “You’re a good man, for one. You make me smile. Make me laugh. You’re kind. You’re incredibly handsome - it’s actually quite distracting.” He laughed. “You make me feel loved. You make me feel special. I’m a better person when I’m with you…”

You trailed off as you took in his expression, a soft smile and watery eyes as he sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I love you, Mrs Pike.”

“I love you, Mr Pike,” you kissed the tip of his nose and he scrunched it up.

“Are you tired?” He asked and you shook your head. “Good, because I plan on filling up that ridiculously large bathtub,” he kissed your shoulder, “opening one of the many bottles of champagne,” he kissed your neck, “making you come at least twice in the bath,” he kissed just below your ear, “before bringing you back to bed.” He finally kissed your lips and when he spoke his own brushed against yours with each word. “How does that sound?”

“Like perfection,” you smiled, holding his face in your hands as you kissed him once more.

And that is exactly what Marcus did, making good on every last promise before you fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you - gold band resting against gold band.

*****

tags

@phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes  @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday @tintinn16 @pilothusband @voteforpedro09  @dihra-vesa @frankiecatfish @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @transias @peoniarose @pjkimrn @fangirl-316 @niki-xie @potted–ivy @phandoz @janebby @athalien @xocalliexo @amneris21 @lavenderluna10 @iamskyereads @spacenerdpascal @mswarriorbabe80 @dumplinshee @jitterbugs927 @gracie7209 @lovesbiggerthanpride @lowlights @notabotiswear @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @bport76 @fangirl-316 @1andthesame @pedrostories @nyfeeer @hb8301 @agingerindenial @adriiibell @darnitdraco @nolanell @buckybarneshairpullingkink @quicksilvermad @kirsteng42 @mandos-riduur-reading @dins-cyare​ 

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x fem reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x y/n #marcus pike fic #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike #the mentalist

[sirowsky]

The Secret Lake

Happy Birthday, my Love!

@lucrezia-thoughts

Don't think I forgot about you, my darling wife, I have a big dose of your husband ready for you, should you feel the need for some lovable fluff and happiness! I hope you've had a wonderful day, and if you haven't, I hope this helps. All my love, always --J

Warnings: Marcus Pike x female reader (no physical description), some mild insecurity from both characters, otherwise just fluff central. First date-type themes. Kissing happens.

You're looking for a place to cool off during a heatwave, and remembers hearing about a secluded spot that a colleague of yours might know how to find. The hitch is that you're pretty sure he barely even knows who you are.

Word Count: 3630 Author's Masterlist

   It’s blazing hot outside, and you’re desperate for some cool water to dip into, but you know the beach is gonna be packed today and you’re not in the mood for battling sand getting into everything you own.    Anakin was right about that one.

   You know there’s supposed to be a really nice lake somewhere inland, within an hour’s drive, but you don’t know how to find it, and it’s apparently next to impossible to locate, in between high cliffs, unless you have a guide.    There’s one person you know that’s been there, but he’s not someone you socialize with, ordinarily. Which is a shame, because he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever met. Not that you’d spent enough time with him to make a full assessment, and you doubt he’d even remember you after just a casual introduction at the office, months ago.    You’re just a secretary, working for his boss, and while you see him all the time, he passes your desk with a polite smile, but never really looking at you. That’s the curse of being a secretary, even when you’re not the-mouse-in-the-corner-type, you become a part of the décor, and eventually people stop noticing you.

   His number is in your phone, though. You’ve needed to message him a few times for work, to let him know that your boss had to reschedule something, so perhaps he would have you in his as well and would recognize the caller ID.    Screw it. If he doesn’t pick up then no harm done, and if he does and doesn’t remember you or doesn’t feel like helping you out, then at least you won’t have to wonder anymore if he notices you.    The phone trembles slightly when you listen to the rings, part of you hoping that he doesn’t answer, and another part dearly wishing that he does.

   “Pike.”

   The call connects and his voice comes through after seven rings, just when you’d been about to hang up, and you scramble to re-center your brain and remember what the hell you called him for.

   “Oh, hi… I’m sorry…”

   Your mind goes blank and for a moment you’re about to panic, but then a soft chuckle comes across the line.

   “Are you apologizing for calling or for saying hi? Because you haven’t done anything else to me yet, Daisy.”

   Your chest tightens at the sound of your nickname, given to you by some other colleagues because of the one personal item on your desk: a conserved daisy in a glass frame.    You’ve never told anyone why you have it, only that it’s very important to you, and of course, the mystery soon earned you the name. But you love it.    Shit, he asked you a question, what was it?

   “Uh, I’m just sorry to bother you, Agent Pike.”

   “Marcus, please. We’re both off duty. Now, what can I do for you?”

   “Right. Well, I was just wondering if you could give me some directions to the secret lake? I remember hearing you mention to another agent that you’d been there, and I’m just dying to cool down somewhere that isn’t the beach.”

   “Yeah, I’ve been there, but there’s no way I can describe the route well enough that you’ll find it on your own.”

   “Oh. That’s okay, thank you anyway, I really am sorry if I interrupted something.”

   “Hey, I wasn’t done. Will you stop trying to convince me that you’re bothering me, and let me tell you what I’m thinking?”

   “Sorry. Again.”

   You hear him huff on the other end, and you’re not sure if it’s in annoyance or bemusement.

   “I can’t describe it to you, but I’d happily show you the way.”

   You nearly fall over with shock, even though you’re sitting down.

   “Seriously? I mean, you absolutely don’t have to…”

   “Daisy. Stop. I’ll pick you up outside your apartment in 20. Okay?”

   He-… he knows where you live?

   “O-Okay.”

   You quickly pack your things and throw together some snacks before heading down to wait for him by the road, partly in the interest of saving time, but also because you’re not sure how you feel about him potentially seeing the inside of your apartment. It’s small so even if he only stood in the doorway, he’d see most of it, and it’s a mess.    Sure enough, he’s there within the promised time, and you quickly put your things in the backseat before getting into the front passenger seat, as he stops by the curb, breathing a little easier once you’re in the cool airconditioned space.

   You almost audibly gulp as you take in the sight of him, while reaching over to fasten your seatbelt. Because you’ve only ever seen him in the practically trademarked FBI-suit they all wear, but now he’s in a white button-down cotton shirt with short sleeves, that fits loosely over his tanned chest, the top three buttons undone.    And he’s wearing light blue bathing shorts, clearly intending to enjoy a day at the lake as well, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s meeting someone else there, or something. Because he can’t be about to just hang out with you, that’s… inconceivable.

   “Hey. Nice to see you outside the office.”

   “Hi. This is so kind of you, Marcus, I didn’t even think you’d pick up, much less actually come and show me the way.”

   “Why would you think I wouldn’t pick up?”

   “Just because we don’t know each other. I figured you’d assume that it was about work and just ignore it, since you’re on vacation.”

   “Huh. I didn’t even think of that. But I was really glad that it was about this, because I was thinking about going out there myself, but it didn’t sound like much fun to go alone.”

   “But you must have people you could’ve called, friends or family. I’m sure there’s always someone who wants to hang out with you.”

   He smiles at that, but it’s a jaded kind of smile.

   “Believe it or not, but doing this job makes it hard to keep up a social life of any sort. All my friends are fellow agents, and while I enjoy spending time with them, it’s always work. Even when we’re off duty, that’s where the conversations go, because that’s what we all have in common, and it’s just not healthy, you know?    I’m bad enough at leaving work at work as it is, I don’t need enablers dragging me back to it in my spare time.”

   You feel bad hearing that, since you’re work-related for him too, and now you don’t know what to say, because you want to apologize but you know he won’t appreciate it.    You stare out the passenger side window, watching city traffic and built-up areas fade away into wilderness as he drives further out of town.

   “Hey, why so quiet, Daisy?”

   “Uh, just enjoying the calm. My neighbours aren’t the quiet types.”

   “Truth. But not all of it. What’s bothering you?”

   You take a breath and glance at him, and damnit… Why did he have to be the most beautiful man in the world?

   “You said you wanted to get away from work.”

   He connects the dots effortlessly; you can see it in his body language even from the corner of your eye.

   “Okay. Clearly, we need to get something straight here.    When I talk about work what I mean is active cases. Leads, interrogations, raids, research, meetings, paperwork, bureaucracy.    You are not work to me, Daisy, you’re the sunshine that sits in an otherwise grey and dull building wearing colours and offering a dazzling smile to anyone that passes.    You’re always helpful, you never seem to have a bad day, or if you do, you’re a master at hiding it. You’re never too far away from a quip or a well-phrased come-back and there is nothing about you that reminds me of work.    So will you please stop trying to tell yourself that you’re gonna somehow ruin my day, because I’m really looking forward to spending some time with you.”

   He pauses and waits for a reply, but you have no idea what to say.    That entire little speech tells you that you’ve been wrong about him this whole time. He does notice you. A lot more than you ever would’ve thought. And while that does boost your confidence significantly, it also makes you terribly nervous.    He doesn’t wait for you to try and gather your thoughts before he continues, making you wonder if he’s nervous too.

   “I was slow to answer today because I did expect it to be work. But when I saw that it was you… I was excited. I am excited. I’d like to get to know you.”

   By now, you’re staring at him, attempting to absorb that he might actually be interested in you, but you soon realize that that’s gonna take a while, and he needs some reassurance.

   “Thank you. I’d really like to get to know you too.”

   He smiles widely, that perfect dimple on full display, and just minutes later, he turns onto a dirt-track that ends after about a mile, where he parks on a patch of dirt next to some boulders.

   “Alright, we’ll have to hoof it from here.”

   “How far is it?”

   “Not very. Maybe twenty minutes. And this is the only way in, so unless someone hiked here, it looks like we got the place to ourselves.”

   You try not to show how that makes the butterflies in your stomach go bananas, while you put on your backpack and fall in behind him.    It’s not the easiest trek you’ve ever done. It’s rocky and requires some light climbing for most of the way, finally making you see why this has never become a popular hangout.    But once you get past the rocky part, you’re suddenly engulfed by thick vegetation that you have to wrestle your way through, until it abruptly just ends, and you’re there.

   Tall cliffs that are vertical in their drop against the water, but also very steep on the opposite side, encircle a small lake full of clear blue water. The entryway brings you to a huge flat rock that’s half submerged, and that’s as much beach as there is.    Birds are singing all around you, actual butterflies flittering about everywhere, tiny flowers growing where tree-roots have stretched into the water above the rocks, bringing other seeds along with them.    It’s magical. But still just as hot as the city had been and now you’ve been climbing too.

   “It’s spring water, filtered through mineral deposits underground, that’s why it’s so clear-…”

   He cuts himself off when you run past him and dive headfirst into the cool liquid, having clearly not noticed that you’ve already stripped your top and shorts off and aren’t all that interested in why the water is special.    But by the time you breach the surface again, he’s already discarded his shirt and is on his way to join you, that big smile firmly in place right up until he dives.    The water’s cold compared to the air, shockingly so, but it only takes moments for your body to appreciate it and for the haze that the heat somehow drugs your mind with, to get blown away.

   You don’t wait for him to reach you before you start leisurely swimming towards the other side of the pool, but he catches up to you in no time, falling in next to you but staying quiet as he can see that you’re admiring the place still.    At the far end of the lake, you’re surrounded by cliffs, creating a chamber of sorts, that echoes every sound, even the tiny splashes from your swim-strokes, seeming to amplify the sounds, which fascinates you.    Turning back, you dive underwater and practice holding your breath while you try to map the bottom, only to find that it’s way too far down for you to even guess at the depth of the water.

   Since the flat rock is partly submerged, there’s no trouble getting back out, you just swim until you can put your feet down on it and then walk up until you reach the dry area.    Marcus is right behind you, but he lingers in knee-deep water for a while as you go to your bag to pull out your towel and lay it out on the smooth stone, and it’s not until you’ve finished that you notice that he’s watching you.

   “How’s the view, Mr. Pike?”

   He makes no attempt to conceal the fact that he’s been eyeing you, only smiling again as you challenge him.

   “Oh, it’s gorgeous, Miss Daisy.”

   Playing along (and seizing the opportunity) you ogle him right back, from his hair down to his knees, and then back up, slowly, taking in every detail, before landing on his suddenly slightly self-conscious eyes.

   “I’ll have to agree with you on that.”

   He chuckles and runs a hand through his dripping wet hair, lingering at his neck while his head dips forwards to hide his embarrassment, all while he slowly makes his way out of the water and comes to pull out his own towel.    After settling down next to you, you both fall into an odd kind of silence. Not pressured or uncomfortable, really, but… a bit like there’s a piece of glass between you that neither of you know how to break. So, you just sit there, quietly soaking up the sun and stealing sideways glances at each other.

   Until you remember your snacks and reach into your bag to pull out an assortment of fruits, crackers, cheese and nuts, and the moment you invite him to dig into the food, the glass brakes.    You talk about a hundred different things, only once or twice straying into work-territory by sharing funny anecdotes or trivia about colleagues. But mostly just telling each other about things you like or have experienced or things that are just memorable, even if they are largely insignificant.

   And before you know it, the sun has dipped below the ridge of the cliffs, the food is all eaten, your bathing suits are dry and the magic of the day is running out, like Cinderella’s chiming clock, forcing you back to reality.    His eyes meet yours, and you both know that it’s time to go, but neither of you say it.    The quiet settles back in between you while you get dressed and pack up, but before you leave, you turn back for one last look out over the lake, feeling like it has somehow shared a secret with you.

   The climb back to the car is even harder on the way down, and without Marcus, you never would’ve managed it. But you get back unscathed and pack yourselves into the vehicle, driving back with that same silence sitting like some unseen third passenger between you, disturbing the zen.    He stops in the parking lot outside your building this time, in the overnight spots, but he leaves the engine running, as if trying to showcase that he won’t stay unless you ask.

   “So… I had a lot of fun today.”

   “Me too. I’m really glad I called you, Marcus.”

   “Please feel free to call me again. Anytime.”

   “Same to you.”

   He smiles, but it’s uncertain now. Tentative.    You bite your bottom lip and throw a look out of the windscreen, trying to decide if you have the courage to kiss him goodbye, or if he’ll even want you to. You feel like he probably won’t mind at least, but there’s no way to know unless you ask or just go for it.

   “What are you thinking, Daisy?”

   The nickname shifts your thoughts, to a different time but oddly similar situation, and you smile warmly as the fond memory plays out before your eyes for the ten thousandth time.

   “Would you like to know why I keep that flower?”

   Looking back at him, you see his smile deepen, and he nods.

   “It was given to me by a girl named Penny when I was just six years old.    She was this rowdy little thing that used to get us into trouble, but she had the most adorable smile and almost always managed to charm our way out of it too.    One day, out of the blue, while we were hiding in the middle of a meadow, she kissed me. And not some little peck either, a long, warm kiss that gave me goosebumps. My very first one.”

   His eyes have turned into enamoured puddles and the most enchanting smile adorns every angle of his features, making your insides purr.

   “Then she pulled back, picked the first flower she saw and tucked it behind my ear, and that was the last time I ever saw her. She moved away the next day.    I keep the flower because it reminds me that love is ageless. I look at it and I still remember those goosebumps, that feeling that something very special was happening, and it makes me smile, even on my bad days.”

   “So, then you do have bad days. Damn. That means I can’t read you as well as I thought, you’ve been deceiving me all this time.”

   “Marcus… who the hell doesn’t have bad days? Of course I do, I just keep a professional mask on.”

   “I know, but that’s what makes it so impressive, because I genuinely have tried, but I’ve never been able to tell. Not once. And I detect deception for a living.”

   That gives you an idea. Maybe a terrible one, but if you’re ever gonna go for it…    Utilizing his apparent inability to tell what you’re thinking, you keep your face in the same comfortable joyful expression you’ve had for most of the afternoon, not giving him any hint as to what you’re about to do.    Taking a page from Penny, you don’t give him a chance to pull away, swiftly leaning over the center console to slot your lips against his, forcing your hands to stay in your lap so that you won’t reach up and try to hold him in place, in case he doesn’t want this.

   Once he catches on, though, he all but surges into the kiss, his own hands showing none of the restraint yours have managed, coming up to cradle your face while he completely takes over control, licking at your lips, begging for more. And when you let him in, he instantly softens again, inviting you as much as he devours you.    Your hands tangle in his hair, tug at his shoulders, utterly unable to get enough of him and suddenly hating the confines of the car making it impossible to get closer.    But then he shifts his left arm, and accidentally hits the horn, the sharp signal startling you both into pulling back, and you chuckle breathlessly.

   “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

   His eyes are bottomless pits of lust now, but there’s so much affection in there too that it makes you crave him just as much.

   “Daisy… I’ve wanted to do that for fucking months.”

   “You couldn’t have given me even the tiniest hint of that? I thought you didn’t even know my name, much less my nickname.”

   He’s a little taken aback by that, cocking his head to the side and studying you closely.

   “I’m sorry. You’re right, I haven’t shown you anything but my own mask as well.”

   “You know what, Marcus… I think we kinda suck at this.”

   That makes him laugh in earnest, and it infects you, but also effectively wipes any and all remaining tension away between you.    And suddenly you don’t care what state your apartment’s in, or that the neighbours are terrible, you just want him to stay.

   “You wanna come in?”

   Something very… expansive, emanates from him as he hears that. As though a whole new world has opened up and become available to him, and his eyes sparkle when he reaches for you, kissing you again, just as fervently.    And when he breaks it, he stays close enough that his lips still brush against yours with each word he says.

   “Yes. Yes, I really, really do. Which is why I should leave.”

   You know that he’s right, that it’s careless to move too fast, that it can wreck things before they’ve even begun, but you still whimper and feel a pout settle into your face.    He tries to kiss it away, and he almost succeeds, except that it comes right back as soon as he pulls away again, which makes him laugh more.

   “How about you come to my place for dinner tomorrow. My neighbours are quiet.”

   “Done.”

   You both giggle at how fast and decisively that reply comes out, and then he gets out of the car to help you with your bag, even though it’s just a backpack.    You take it and start walking towards your door, but then turn so that you’re backing the last few steps, letting you look at him where he’s leaned against the back bumper of the car.

   “Text me your address, Mr. Pike. Some of us don’t snoop in other people’s personnel files.”

   His eyebrows shoot up at that, clearly not expecting you to have figured that out, and you smile triumphantly. Because he could’ve just looked you up online, but something tells you that he probably thinks it’s less creepy if he just looks at a file, he does that all the time.

   “I peeked. Just one little peek.”

   “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.”

   His gaze takes a trip around the parking lot while he smiles bashfully at your compliment, and then he pushes off the bumper and heads for the driver’s door, giving you one last lingering, craving look before he steps in and drives off.

THE END

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

Tagging some lovely people, just because.

@idreamofboobear @deadhumourist @lucrezia-thoughts @nolanell @tintinn16 @bison-writes @tiffanyleen @sarahjkl82-blog @la-lunaluna @tanzthompson @cannedsoupsucks @toomanystoriessolittletime @sj-draws00 @agingerindenial @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @shsoba05 @thisshipwillsail316 @f0rever15elf @dornish-queen @herefordistractions @littlemisspascal @sewmanystitchssewlittletime @ophelialoveshandsomemen @myfavpedrothings @ezras-channel-rat @winter-fox-queen

#happy birthday wifey!! #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike one shot #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist one shot #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

inappropriate

Summary: You had been undercover on and off for a year and finally you made the arrest to get you back home to your husband. But your husband Marcus has other plans, finding you just before you could get into the interrogation room to show you just how much he missed you.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (unprotected sex), a little jealousy, established relationship, semi public sex, highly unprofessional behaviour lol, breeding kind, pregnancy secret

A/N: This won the vote to what unhinged smut do I write today. Din might be up tomorrow.

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„Such an obedient girl for me,“ Marcus hummed and you sighed and smiled, your head falling back, your eyes closing as he slowly fucked into you from behind. 

„Just for you baby,“ you moaned quietly, your hands on the table he had bend you over not even three minutes ago, the only light in the room coming from the mirrored window in front of you, the man you had finally brought in sitting alone at the table, his hands cuffed, waiting for his interrogation to start while your husband fucked you in the soundproofed room behind the mirror. 

An interrogation you would lead. 

After Marcus had fucked his jealousy out of his system. 

You had been undercover on and off for almost a year, something your husband understood and knew what it entailed. 

It did not mean he particularly liked it.

He preferred not to have to see when a target you were undercover for got his hands all over his wife. His jaw twitching as he watched the live stream of the current mission from the security of his office at the FBI headquarters. 

After you messaged him that today might be the day you finally would make an arrest, he had logged in and watched the whole feed, including the way the man you had been chasing for years had his hands all over you and he could see the fake smile you gave him as you tried to keep him entertained. 

He was so pent up by the point your team finally had all they needed to make the arrest he slapped his laptop shut when he saw you put the man in cuffs and made his way through the already dark building, up to the seventh floor where your devision sat and waited. 

He waited for you to step through the doors of the elevator. 

He waited for you to lead the suspect towards the interrogation room and past him so he could look into his eyes. 

He waited for you to lock the door behind you as you stepped into the room next to the interrogation room, so he could have you back in his arms, his lips crashing down on yours the moment you turned towards him, his body pushing you against the door as he kissed you deeply, his hands all over your body. 

„So proud of you,“ he mumbled against your lips and you smiled, your hands coming to touch his cheek. You hadn’t seen him in almost a month, and he had let he beard grow out. 

The door in the next room opened and the suspect was lead in by one of the other Agents of your team and Marcus head turned for a moment before he looked at you again, his eyes dark. 

„I have to get in there soon,“ you said and he nodded. 

„I don’t need long,“ he promised, before he kissed you again and walked you towards the desk that was standing under the gallery window, setting you down on it. His hands making quick work of the blouse you were wearing, getting you out of it. 

„Brought you your change of clothes. Thought you would want to burn these,“ he said and you smiled, sighing when his hand cupped your tits, his thumbs playing with your nipples. 

„My hero,“ you kissed him before you jumped off the table, getting the rest of your clothes off and turning around, your hands on the table in front of you, your ass pushing against his crotch. 

„Fuck,“ he groaned his hands on your ass, before you heard his zipper and then his belt. 

You felt the head of his cock poking against your ass before two of his fingers entered you, both of you groaning quietly. You were soaked for him.

„Just fuck me, baby. We have time for that tomorrow,“ you whimpered and he did, slipping into you slowly, his head falling against your back with a groan.

„Want you all over me when I put him behind bars,“ you whispered and he hissed before he bit into your shoulder and began to fuck you, his hips slapping against your ass every time his cock filled you. 

„I turned the cameras off by the way,“ he said and you laughed.

„You really think they don’t know what we’re up to in there? It’s not the first time,“ you teased, not even having thought about that. His hand wrapped over your mouth the next moment and he pulled you up against his chest, fucking up into you. 

„You gonna let me cum inside of you before you walk into that room and lock him up for life?“ He whispered against your ear, his other hand running down your stomach until his fingers began to play with you clit. 

„Gonna have me dripping out of you while you tell him how long he’s gonna be locked up?“ You felt him grin against your neck and you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

„And then you gonna come home with me and I’ll keep you in bed until you can’t walk…“ he groaned. 

„Gonna finally fuck you so full of me, you gonna get pregnant and have my baby,“ he groaned and you moaned against his hand, coming undone as he fucked into you a couple times more before he came, fucking you full of him. His hand left your mouth, turning your head towards him so he could kiss you. 

There was a knock on the door and you both laughed. 

„This was highly unprofessional Senior Special Agent Pike,“ you hummed and he grinned, pecking your lips. 

„I agree Special Agent-in-Charge Pike,“ he smiled, before he pulled out of you and helped you getting dressed. 

He secured your badge on your blazer when you unlocked the door, finding one of your Agents and best friends waiting in front of the door with a knowing smile.

„You really need to learn to keep it in your pants, Pike,“ they said as they looked at Marcus who had a sheepish smile on his lips, his hand on your hip. He kissed your cheek, looking into your eyes. 

„Call me when I should pick you up. I know it’s gonna be a while. I’m gonna get everything ready for this weekend,“ he kissed you again and then slowly walked down the corridor towards the elevators. 

„What is he gonna prepare for this weekend?“ Your friend asked, handling you the file for the coming interrogation. Not that you needed notes. You had enough evidence gathered and been on this case for the last six years, even before you met Marcus. 

„You really wanna know?“ You grinned, watching after him. He gave you a wink as he stepped into the elevator, just before the doors closed. 

You turned your head to look at them and they made a face, before they shook their head. 

„You told him yet?“ They asked and you shook your head.

„Don’t think he’s gonna let me out of his sight if I tell him I’m pregnant. So let’s lock this asshole up, so that I can go home to my husband,“ you smiled, before you schooled your face and went into the interrogation room. 

#my fic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan ficiton #Marcus Pike fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

[pedroscurls]

second chances | series masterlist

wip | ao3

Summary: After Marcus moves to DC - alone - he's determined to just focus on work. After a failed marriage followed with his failed relationship with Lisbon, Marcus believes that love just isn't in the cards for him anymore. Until you move in next door. Character pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!Reader Rating: 18+ minors dni, each chapter will have its own warnings.

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4.

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

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓.

DAY TEN OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: inspired by your favorite lana del rey song + artist au + “don't you know how sick with love i am for you?”

pairing: artist!marcus pike x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: marcus is in desperate need for a muse.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: body painting, artist/muse, obsessed artist marcus pike, mutual oral s.ex/69 but marcus is on top, cum play, spit play, dirty talk, affectionate whore calling, in a very Marcus fashion things escalate very quickly

In the dim living room, the scent of oil paints hung heavy in the air, mingling with the undertones of desperation and need. An artist needs a muse, Marcus thinks, the crease between his brows deep. He placed his hands beneath his chin, fingers meeting, in a contemplative pose. He sat on the couch; right across from a blank canvas. In front of it his paints were angrily scattered, his want to paint clouding his judgment and angering him. It’s been months since he last painted. Nothing inspired him to paint. Not the books he read, not his perfectly decorated studio speaking to his particular tastes, not his friends—

Nothing. 

And now he has to leave and he has to leave right now. He has no time to shower and scrub the scent of paint off his skin, no time to tidy his living room. Slowly, he lifts himself off the couch and walks up to the canvas. He places his palm flat in the middle. The grease of his hand seeps into the woven white fabric. Bits of paint adding shards of color and tainting the pure. 

He sighs, pulling his hand away, he stares at the faint shine of grease. Still nothing. 

Maybe going out will help him think of something to paint. 

He has his doubts but he’s willing to try. 

Going out tonight you weren’t expecting much. Maybe some laughter—a lot of drinking, but that was pretty much it. You certainly weren’t expecting to meet a charming artist with brown eyes and dark brown hair who had a smile that turned your insides into absolute mush. 

He opens the door for you and you go in. It’s a clean apartment, which you appreciate. The scent of paint and hints of soft vanilla tickles your nose, you step instead with a smile and Marcus follows, closing the door with a soft click. 

“Sorry for the mess,” he says a bit bashfully. You turn with a raised eyebrow, prompting him to explain. He points towards the canvas, then down to the ground, your gaze follows. “The paints.” 

You shrug, “You’re an artist. I’d figured there’d be some paint.” you add shortly after. “In fact, I expected more.” 

Marcus leads you to the couch, hand gentle as it presses against the small of your back. A shudder crawls up your spine, a flame awakening between your legs. You swallow thickly. 

“I’ve been having a bit of a dry spell,” his grin widens as you give him a look. “I was talking about my art but honestly haven’t been the most fortunate in that apartment either.” 

“Tortured artist,” you murmur, eyes flitting across his face. “Classic.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs. His other hand slides to your waist, the other moving up from the middle of your stomach and gliding up between your breasts until he tucks his fingers under your chin, holding you with a thumb and a forefinger. The chocolate of his eyes is gone, leaving you to stare into complete darkness. He smiles hungrily—stares at you as if he’s been waiting for you since the end of times and not that he’s found you, he’s never letting you go. “I’m everything but classic.” 

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, exposing hard teeth. Your heart flutters and you smile. It should frighten you. The obsession in his eyes. Your stomach jumps, the skin over bone growing taut. Your breathing goes heavy, your gaze dropping to his lips multiple times within the silence. He knows. He knows how badly you want him and that only turns you on. You’ve never been anyone’s first choice before, never caught the eye of a stranger at a bar. People felt relaxed around you but that didn’t entice them enough to actually want you or be with you. Obsession was like kryptonite for a lonely person. A drug. 

And man did you want your fill of it. 

Your pulse raises, “Why haven’t you been able to paint?” you ask. 

His plush lips part with a soft, slow sight. A rumble follows his breath as it ghosts your cheeks. Marcus slides his fingers around your throat, the thin cheap chain of your necklace burning your skin as he presses forward. 

“I haven’t been feeling inspired,” he says. “Lost my muse.” 

Your breath hitches and he cocks his head to the side, his smile softening around the edges. “I’m feeling quite inspired now, though.” 

“You don’t say,” You’re surprised at how sultry your voice is, how hoarse it became in mere seconds. “You think you found your muse?” 

He tightens his grip and arousal gathers at the seam of your underwear, you feel the brush of his lips against yours. 

“I believe I have.” 

You’ve always had an obsession with the color blue. It soothes you. And you often associate it with life itself. Water, the sky. All the most important things in human life are blue, but the color of the water isn’t real, it comes from the sky. A mirage. After learning about it, you only grew fonder of the color, relating to it. 

Marcus’s lips taste like that. Something that you see but surely couldn’t be real, a mirage of your darkest desires perhaps? He tastes like heaven and hell and you want more and more and more—

He slips his tongue between your lips, licking himself deep into your mouth. You mimic him, flattening your tongue over his and allowing him to suck the tender muscle into his mouth. You feel his hands everywhere; on your ass, hip, breasts. He squeezes them, rubs his thumb enough so peeks form despite your bra and dress. You moan into his mouth, eyes nearly rolling back from how hot it suddenly is. 

Then suddenly you’re being pulled back, all you ever wanted taken from you. 

“Let me paint you,” he suddenly gasps. He rubs himself against yours, the length of him hard against your stomach. You let out a shuddering breath. 

“Wouldn’t that take long?” you whine. His eyes lit up with amusement. “I mean. . .I would love that but I’d rather. . . be with you.” 

“Is my sweet muse suddenly shy?” he teases, nudging your nose together. “When I say paint you I don’t mean paint a portrait of you—I mean I. Want. To. Paint. You.” 

“Oh,” you hear the blood rushing to your ears, your cheeks starting to warm under his gaze. “No one’s ever done that before.” 

“Good,” he says and fully pulls away, turning his gaze to the blank canvas. Your eyes follow. He seems to be staring directly into the middle of it, you don’t know why, you wish you could see what he sees. 

Then his head suddenly snaps back to you, almost making you jump, “I’m thinking blue.” 

You hope to disguise your surprise, but from the way he smiles, you know he sees something on your face to prompt the expression. “Yes,” he says nonchalantly. “Blue.” 

It seems that not much preparation is needed for him to paint you. To turn you into his personalized canvas to use. After laying down a rather large white fabric on the floor, he places various colored paints and brushes. Marcus gets behind you, fingers playing with the fabrics of your dress. You shiver at the brush of his fingers. He kisses your neck, the wet of his tongue tasting your skin. 

“Will you strip for me?” he asks. 

Your answer is ready on your lips, “Yes.” 

And he pushes down the straps, lowers your zipper. The dress pools at your ankles and you step out of the waves of fabric. You want to give him a show. 

Turning to him, you unclasp your bra. His eyes follow the curves of them immediately, taking in the sight of your peeked nipples, the way they sag in their natural beauty when the bra is removed. You would normally be embarrassed but the feeling escapes you entirely, no matter how longingly he observes your details. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers, eyes meeting yours. “Show me the rest of you.” 

Slowly leaning forward you hook your thumbs under the pretty lace and pull it down, it drops to your ankles. A chill settles at the base of your spine when the cool air hits your wet, warm pussy. Marcus licks his lips, eyes eating you hungrily before meeting your gaze once more. He takes a step forward and cups your mound with the entirety of his palm. A soft moan trembles within the confinements of your throat as he begins to stroke between your folds with two thick fingers. 

“So wet already,” he murmurs, breath tickling your heated cheeks. “You must feel it too, this pull between us. The crimson ropes of faith telling you that you’re mine.” 

You don’t miss the way his soft cadence shifts into something of a silent growl, he presses the heel of his palm against your clit and you gasp, the tender nub throbs. “Lay down,” he orders, hand slipping to your waist, you feel the wet streaks he leaves on your skin. 

“Tell me why you wanted to go out tonight,” Marcus says while you’re lying down, from the corner of your eyes you see him reaching for brushes and blue paint. “I want to know how your mind works.” 

“Well, it’s not that interesting really,” a nervous laughter escapes you. You stare at the ceiling, it makes you feel oddly relaxed even though you’re stark naked. “I’m just tired of being alone. I wanted to have fun, and see if I could. . . find someone that’d wanna spend time with me.” 

“I guess you hit the jackpot then,” he answers, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Because I certainly want to spend time with you.” 

Your breath hitches. You want to argue, tell him that he barely knows you yet and that he should give it time before he tucks his tail between his legs and runs. But you have an inkling that he does, in fact, know you. You feel that invisible thread holding you together and even though your feelings had let you astray before, you want to believe the bond this time. 

The cool, wet end of the brush hovers an inch above your body, a subtle chill bursting across your skin, “I’m telling you the truth you know,” he murmurs as if reading your mind. “I’ll never get sick of this feeling. Never.” 

Then you feel it. The cold paint swirling around your breast, tickling your skin, shortening your breath. Marcus smiles at the way your back curves, pushing yourself further into the brush despite the way it makes you shiver. Arousal blossoms between your legs, forcing your legs together, Marcus tuts with the click of his tongue and pushes himself between them so they stay spread for him to witness your glimmering core. 

He moves the brush over your nipple, you feel the paint slowly drying around your breast, the swirl of the bristles makes your nipples harden and skin grow taut. 

“You look good in blue,” he mutters, rolling his hips. The outline of his cock brushes over your throbbing clit and with your lips parting, you push yourself down, following him. “When was the last time you’ve been with someone?” Marcus asks suddenly, taking you by surprise. 

“It’s been a while,” you answer, averting your gaze. “Have I made it that obvious?” 

His brows furrow with regret, “Sweetheart no, I was just curious. And I have to admit, I also asked due to some selfishness on my part. Would have to fuck you hard if you’d told me you’ve been with someone else yesterday.” 

The words go straight to your cunt, the tender flesh bottoming out as a wanton moan escapes your lips. The brush moves down to your navel, dipping to your belly button. “So possessive already,” you tease, pressing your legs against his hips. 

Marcus leans low enough that your lips nearly touch, you hold your breath, your pulse loud in your ears. His smile is dangerous and dark when he whispers. 

“So you’re telling me you’d be completely fine if I told you I fucked someone raw over the same floor you’re sprawled out for me now?” Your eyes go wide, anger and jealousy burrowing itself deep in your stomach. His smile grows but he’s not done, he licks the curve of your bottom lip. “Would you be okay if I said I came inside some random woman only yesterday because I was lonely, telling her how good her pussy made me feel? What about if I told you how I bit into her neck? How I ruined her for anyone else that’s gonna come after me—” 

You cut his words by pushing a hand over his mouth. You watch wide-eyed as you smear blue paint over his lips and cheeks that you’d gathered by brushing your palm over your stomach. You feel his smile on your skin branding you. “Did you?” you ask, your voice gone hoarse. 

His eyes become soft, the cruel teasing from earlier melting away, he shakes his head. You let out a breath, lungs caving in. “Okay,” you whisper, dropping your hand. “S-Sorry.” 

Marcus holds your wrist and presses his lips into the curve of your palm, a blue lip mark forming on your skin, “Don’t be,” he says. “This wouldn’t be as fun if we didn’t behave the same way.” 

Marcus leaves the brush somewhere near your head and dips his fingers into a shade of red that reminds you of blood. The marks he leaves on you look like claws. As if you’ve been ripped apart by some vicious creature. He doesn’t stop and continues to pain. He draws various shapes with wet fingers, murmuring praise, kissing you where he wishes, leaving blue lips across your bare skin. 

You’re quivering by the time he finally slides down and pushes your thighs up his broad shoulders. The sheet underneath you is damp with arousal, your clit aching with the need to be touched. 

Marcus blows a teasing puff of hair and your entire body clenches, your toes curling into the thin fabric. “Please,” you beg. “Give me your mouth, fingers, anything—” 

Something dark crosses his face but he seems to decide against it and gives you what you want. His lips are soft as he kisses your pussy, slow and sensual. He dips the tip of his tongue between the tender folds and moans at the taste of you. Your brain short circuits when he wraps his devilish lips around your clit, sucking hard on the bundle of nerves, your hips stutter up, meeting the fat strokes of his tongue. 

He grips your hips and pins them down, pushing his tongue deeper inside of you. Your breath catches in your throat. When you look down you see red hand prints all over the outside of your thighs, the sight alone forcing a fresh gush of wetness to coat his tongue. Marcus ground and swirls his tongue around your clit as he looks up. 

“You taste amazing,” he mumbles, pupils blown wide. “I can spend every hour between these gorgeous thighs.” 

Before you can answer he purses his lips, your eyes go wide and your body burns, you watch intently as a drop of saliva stretches from between his lips and lands on your cunt. You shudder. 

“You like that?” he rasps, rubbing two fingers over your clit, smearing the spit all around. Your insides clench. “You want me to make a mess of you, sweetheart? Answer me.” 

“Yes,” you whimper. “I want it all—I want to be your dirty little whore that you make a mess of.” 

“Fuck—” he hisses, this time when he purses his lips, he spits more violently and presses his mouth immediately after. He flattens his tongue and moves his jaw as he sucks, licks and bites. “My dirty whore?” he repeats your words, his tone unbelieving. “God, you’re so fucking perfect. My perfect little whore, all you want to do is come on my face and let me pull you apart with my cock, isn’t it?” 

You nod helplessly, the coil in your stomach tightening, you cradle his head and grind yourself against him. This time Marcus doesn’t stop you, allows you to smear your wetness all over his smooth skin. You hear the words ‘perfect’ and ‘whore’ repeated over and over again, the sounds of each word reverberating against your clit. 

Instead of white, you see bright blue and shards of red. 

He sucks on your clit—hard. You scream his name. Your hips gyrating and stuttering into his wanting mouth. Marcus groans loudly, slurping as his tongue laps at your core, swallowing every drop. Your lungs burn. Your eyes throbbing from rolling so deep into their sockets. Never—Never in your life had you come so hard. Especially not with a man. It would be the toys that pushed you off the edge and your vivid imagination. 

“Fuck, baby, that was amazing—” he says wetly. You tremble. “Can you do it again?” 

You nod but just as he’s about to dive back in, you tug on his hair, drawing his attention back to you. Your chest heaves helplessly, your cunt fluttering to feel his tortuous mouth on you once more. “Want to taste you too,” you slur. “Use me.” 

He pushes himself back so he’s sitting on his heels, you’d forgotten that Marcus was still fully clothed. You eye him hungrily. His cock strains painfully against the fabric of his pants and all you want to do is wrap your mouth around the width of him. 

Marcus robs himself through the fabric, smiling, “You want me to fuck that pretty mouth?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay then, lay back down.” 

You frown but do what he says anyway. You had expected him to ask you to get on your knees instead, your mouth watering at the thought of struggling to take him whole. The scent of paint is thick in the air and once again you’re staring at the ceiling. You hear the faint sound of fabric falling to the hardwood floors. Soon enough he’s standing near your head, fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking himself lazily while looking down at you. 

Before he can say anything, you reach out. He holds your hand with a slight surprise and finally takes a step closer. “How did I get so lucky tonight?” he mutters, both his thighs bracketing your head as he sinks down. 

Marcus doesn’t sit fully, his body hovering enough so your mouth can reach his pretty cock. You follow the path of the throbbing vein with the tip of your tongue and a drop of precome oozes down from the slit, landing on your chin. You grin widely at the way he shudders, enjoying that he is breaking down just as easily. His breath comes in short pants, the puffs of hot air stimulating your clit deliciously. He kisses your mound and lowers his hips, you dutifully suck on the head, swirling your tongue, your heart leaps at the way he moans into you. 

He twitches on your tongue, “Can I fuck your mouth, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice hoarse and thick. “I can’t take it.” 

Instead of using your words, you press your palms on his ass and push him down until he’s halfway in and you’re choking. His sigh of relief echoes across the living room. He thrusts again, pulling back until the tip is touching your lips before snapping them back down again. Your throat seizes around him as he goes down inch by inch. You love the way he has surrounded you compelled. His body like a weighted blanket while his tongue delves deeper into you. 

Marcus groans loudly, and you feel his hips start to buck faster and more erratically. You try to relax your throat as much as possible, letting him take control of the pace. He pulls back, then he plunges back in all the way to the hilt, making spit and come trickle down the corners of your stretched-out lips. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he praises, his voice strangled with pleasure. “My sweet little whore, such a perfect hole for me.” 

He closes his lips around your clit and draws various shapes around the tender flesh. You moan around him in response, the vibrations sending shivers through his body. 

His hips jerk with each movement. You can feel his cock swelling in your mouth, and you know he’s close to coming. You take him as deep as you can, wanting to feel him pulse and release inside you. You can barely breathe, your own release right around the corner and he knows it—he knows it and presses his lips even harder, moves his tongue with more vigor until he tears your orgasm from you. 

You cry our around his cock and that only spurs him on, fucking into your mouth deeper, harder. 

With one final thrust, Marcus moans and buries himself deep between your lips. His hot release shoots down your throat, some of it dribbling onto your chin and chest. 

“Don’t swallow,” he suddenly says, his voice riddled with authority that makes you throb. He pulls out of your mouth with a soft groan, and you wait until his face comes back into view. “Open your mouth, baby,” he mutters. You do and he shoves two fingers inside, smearing his seed all around your lips and down your body, he mixes it with the blue and red paint that marks you as his own. “You look stunning,” he murmurs, his eyes glued to your body. 

Then he leans down and kisses you fiercely, his tongue seeking out the sweet taste of his own release. Those same lips slide down to your throat, biting and licking, as he lays down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

Your body seeks his own. Your face burrowing into the solace of his neck, the dried paint leaving flakes of color across his skin while his come leaves shiny stains. The taste of him is now tainted with hints of fear and uncertainty. 

“I’m afraid,” you sniffle into the crook of his neck, and he holds you tighter. “I don’t want this to end. For it to become another memory that is out of reach.” 

“It won’t,” he murmurs, lips moving along your forehead. “Don't you already know how sick with love I am for you?”

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike x f!reader #artist!marcus pike #marcus pike au #the mentalist fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown #haunted hoedown

[spaceagerabbit]

listen, the pedro characters and the oscar isaac characters would find you so pretty even when you’re just doing mundane things

like you’ll be laying in bed in a big t-shirt and pajama pants eating a bedtime snack (like a leftover cupcake or something), and he’ll just look at you with stars in his eyes and a small, soft smile.

you’ll look up from your snack and into his eyes, asking him why he was looking at you like that.

“you look so hot baby”, he would say, letting out a big loving sigh as he places his cheek to his palm.

your face is full of surprise for a brief moment before a soft smile is brought to your face as well, and you move your face down to the snack in your hand. you continue smiling as you eat and he lets out another dreamy sigh.

at one point he turns your head towards him, gently brushing a few crumbs off of your lips and then licking those crumbs off his fingers cheekily.

you can decide where this goes ;)

#pedro pascal characters #javier pena x reader #din djarin x reader #marcus moreno x reader #marcus pike x reader #ezra x reader #maxwell lord x reader #frankie morales x reader #catfish x reader #gn!reader #oscar isaac characters #steven grant x reader #poe dameron x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #mr knight x reader #santiago x reader #fem!reader #male!reader #black!reader #asian!reader #plus size!reader

[supernaturalgirl20]

It’s that time of year again!!! I’m using @absurdthirst template for kinktober this year and here is my schedule.

***These are gonna be very heavy on the smut and some will also be quite dark so please heed all warnings before you read.***

1: Shibari - Marc Spector x f!reader

2: Gagging - Pero Tovar x f!reader

3: Threesome - Frankie x f!reader x Santiago

5: A/B/O - Frankie Morales x f!reader

6: Underwear- Marcus Pike x f!reader

7: Bath/Shower sex - Pero Tovar x f!reader

12: Cock Warming - Joel Miller x f!reader

13: Monster Fucking - Werewolf!Ezra x f!reader

17: Hate Fucking - Joel Miller x f!reader

19: Somnophilia - Din Djarin x f!reader

21: Breeding - Pero Tovar x f!reader

22: Sex Pollen - Javier Pena x f!reader

23: Erotic Dancing - Marcus Pike x f!reader

25: Lactation - Din Djarin x f!reader

30: Public Sex - Frankie Morales x f!reader

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x female reader #marcus pike x female reader #javier peña x fem!reader #oberyn martell x female reader #dean winchester x reader #marc spector x reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #dieter bravo xf!reader

[moralesispunk]

Out of Hours (Professor Pike x F! Reader)

Summary: Marcus Pike has taken up office in the room across the hall from your PhD tutor’s and it seems like neither of you can get enough of each other

Warnings: penetrative (p in v) sex, unprotected sex, creampie, ass slapping (this is Marcus), kissing, age gap relationship (10-15 years although not explicitly mentioned how big), a little fluff in there too

*****

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We can’t do this.”

The words hung in the air between panting breaths; a verbal acknowledgement that this is something that you shouldn’t be doing not working to put a stop to the way his palms skimmed across your thighs beneath your skirt or the way your nails dug into his shoulders over his white shirt.

Professor Pike - not your professor directly but rather one who had settled in the office across from your tutor’s - had joined the University at the start of the year after a career change while you were heading into your second year of your PhD. You had first crossed paths on the day he moved into the office, his head looking up to where you had knocked on his office door as you held out some mail that had been delivered for him.

You had never really cared much about your job as administrative assistant to the art history department. It was enough to pay the rent and bills as you studied but now that it brought you to his office at least once a day and his messy hair and friendly smile always greeted you with “how was your day?” or “there was a documentary on at the weekend, I think you would be interested in,” it was enough that you started to look forward to coming into work, holding onto his mail till last so you could spend an extra minute in his office. Your relationship had never strayed from this set-up, kind and friendly remarks that were enough to put a smile on your face for the rest of the day, until just after the Fall break. 

Every so often you had to stay late to work through whatever admin the professors had decided to land on your desk at exactly 5 on the dot, and this night you were staying particularly late.  You had bumped into Marcus in the kitchen, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise as you stepped in to pour yourself a cup of coffee and he had asked you what you were doing here so late. Small talk soon turned to both of you sitting at the table, an hour passing before you jumped up and realized you were five minutes from missing the last bus home with your car in the garage. He had offered to take you but you politely declined, taking a second you really didn’t have to come back and wish him a goodnight before you ran for the bus.

That one night turned to two and then two turned to three, the both of you finding your way to the kitchen or his office to chat after a long day, and suddenly here you were months later tumbling into his office as his arm wrapped around your waist and his mouth pressed to yours the second his office door swung open.

His hands slid down your body, grabbing and squeezing as he went before he gripped the back of your thighs and held you up against the door. His mouth moved hungirly against yours, his tongue slipping inside as he lifted you from the door and carried you to the desk where he moved whatever had been left there with a frustrated groan before he settled you on the cold wood.

His hand gripped the side of your neck as he dragged his lips across your cheek and along your jaw before he sucked on the point just below your ear that had you shaking. He had learned what you liked quickly, his mouth spreading to a smile that was pressing against your skin as his hands continued to slide up your legs.

It was then you both uttered your “we shouldn’t” and “we can’t” but neither of you moved, your hands coming up to the back of his head as your fingers threaded into his hair and he kissed lower, down to your chest. His lips dragged along the square neck of your t-shirt, his hands coming to hold beneath your breasts and push up as he kissed and licked back and forth, and your head was thrown back, your hips rocking forward and grinding against his as he stepped closer between your legs.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “you come here in this skirt today, do you know how hard it's been to even pretend to concentrate?”

You gasped as his teeth grazed across your skin, his hands spreading across your sides and bunching up the t-shirt that was tucked into your floral skirt higher and higher until he had pulled it over your head and you were left in your bra. He took a moment to look, his tongue wetting his bottom lip as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“Did you wear the skirt to tease me?”

“It- it was warm today, I-”

You stopped when he tugged your bra down, lips wrapping around one of your nipples as his hand coming to pull and twist on the other. 

“Is that the only reason?” He mumbled against your skin. 

You shook your head, looking down with a smirk. 

“Naughty girl,” he lifted his head, shaking it up at you before his hands slid up the inside of your thighs and his fingers danced along the seam of your underwear. “I think maybe you deserve a punishment for that…”

He slipped you off the desk, turning you around quickly and bending you over until your front was flush against the cool surface. Your hands slapped down against the wood, catching yourself as he gathered up the material of your skirt and flipped it over your ass.

“Marcus!” You gasped his name as his hands palmed your soft skin, spreading you open as you let your forehead fall against the desk.

You tried to think if anyone else was still in the building; sometimes the other admin assistant, Luke, liked to stay late and the walls really weren’t that thick-

“No one else is here, don’t worry,” Marcus calmed your racing mind, noticing how your body had tensed beneath his.

His words made you relax and you looked back over your shoulder at him, his eyes that had been firmly staring at the point between your legs flicking up to yours and you raised an eyebrow, wiggling your hips back at him. His mouth that had been hanging open stretched to a grin, his teeth biting the corner of his bottom lip as he shook his head.

“I haven’t forgotten how you’ve teased me all day, honey.” His hands let go of you, his fingers working to unbutton his shirt sleeves at the wrist before rolling them up to his forearms. He did it slowly, his face giving nothing away as he stared back at you and you were completely at his mercy, your back arching slightly as he raised an eyebrow while a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “First you wear this skirt,” he spoke lowly, a rasp catching on his words from how needy he was becoming. His hand came down against your ass and your chest lurched forward against the wood, your forehead coming to rest back against the desk before he spoke again. “Then in the meeting you walk by and press yourself up against me.” Another slap in the same spot and you bit down on your lip. “And then you send me a photo of that pretty lace bra you’re wearing today.” This slap harder than the others, the moan slipping from your mouth as his hand stayed in place, sliding down between your legs to pull your underwear to the side.

“Look how wet you are,” he groaned, his finger dipping through your folds before sliding towards your clit and making your whole body shake. “Is this how wet you get when you spend the whole day teasing me?”

“I’ve been like this all day,” you huffed, impatient and wanting him to touch you where you needed him most.

“You should have come to see me earlier.” You could hear the smile in his voice, his fingers moving back and forth and skimming over where you needed him. “I could have had a taste of you right here on the desk. Or maybe I’d have let you sit under it and suck my cock as I marked some papers, hm?”

“Marcus, I need you,” you whined, trying to push back against him but his hand on your hip stopped you.

“What do you want?”

“You.” Your voice went higher as he slid his fingers back along your folds and pushed two in to curl deep inside you, his thumb pressing against your clit at the same time. 

“You have me,” he replied, smirking down at you as you moaned loudly. He leaned over you, his broad chest pressing you harder against the desk as he licked behind your ear and brought it between his teeth before he spoke again. “I need you to be specific, honey. Be a good girl and use your words and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Your cock Marcus! I want it, please, I need it inside, I-” You cut yourself off with a moan as you heard a zip lower and felt his fingers slip out before the head of his cock swiped through your folds, pushing slowly inside and letting you feel every ridge and vein until he was all the way in and he pulled back to stand over you. “Fuck, Marcus,” you managed to gasp. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He punctured the end of his sentence as he pulled out and thrust back in. “Hm? You come in wearing this skirt today and want me to bend you over the desk and fuck you with my cock?”

“It was hot out-”

Marcus’s hands gripped your hips before fucking into you hard and fast as your words caught in your throat and you could barely take a breath in. 

“I think,” he said through gritted teeth, “we both know that's not true, is it honey?”

His hand pressed on the bottom of your back, your arms falling flat against the table as he continued to pound into you and your fingers gripped the edge of the table. His hand began to slide up your back before holding the back of your neck and keeping you there as his other hand gripped your hip. 

“Can you touch yourself?” He panted above you, his thumb drawing circles against your hip as he waited for an answer. 

You wanted to answer him but you couldn't find your voice, instead nodding your head and letting your cheek rub against the desk while sliding your hand down and pressing it between your legs. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, his shirt still on and now rolled up at the sleeves with the top couple of buttons undone while he was now missing his tie. You guessed that he had taken it off the second his office hours finished, his hands always itching to loosen it that bit more during the day until he could finally be free of it. 

His hand on your hip lifted to run through his hair, dragging it down his face before he landed another slap on your ass and he went back to gripping your hip.

Your eyes rolled as you moaned, your fingers still working to bring you closer to the edge as you forced your body to relax and you were left looking up to the shelves of books against the wall. It wasn’t as busy as some of the other professors but not because he didn’t have as much; it was because Marcus would roll his eyes at the cost of the “required reading” list and had started to hand out his own books to his students on the promise they would come back the way they left.

Marucs was like that - kind to a fault, always with a smile - and while his hand raised and he placed another slap right where you knew it would be stinging to sit down tomorrow you smiled, knowing that you got to see this side of him too.

“There you go. that's it,” Marcus groaned as the coil pulled tighter and together in the pit of your stomach.

You could feel his belt dig into the back of your thighs but you didn't care, not when he was moaning your name and hitting something deep inside you that had you seeing stars. 

“You're so close already,” he groaned, slowing down slightly, “let me feel you squeeze my cock, honey. Let go for me.”

You could barely warm him before you were coming, his hands holding you against the desk as your legs shook and you were just glad his weight was holding yours up or you would have collapsed on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he groaned slowly, “that's it honey.”

You were a mess of moans and gasps, unable to tell him how good it felt as your hand fell back onto the table and he slipped his hand beneath you, pulling you back against his chest as he continued to thrust into you. His hand stayed on your neck, turning your head to face him over your shoulder as his mouth crashed against yours. It was all teeth and tongue, the very definition of a messy kiss, but you both moaned into it as your nails dug into his forearm.

You could tell he was close and your other hand slipped up to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair to keep his mouth against you as his hand slid up from your stomach to your chest, gripping your breast as his hips hit against yours. 

He came with a muffled cry of your name, his body pressed as close to yours as possible as he spilled inside and you hummed contently back against him. The kiss slowed until you broke apart, his lips pressing to your forehead as you bit back a smile and closed your eyes.

With still panting breaths, your hands fell against the desk to hold you up as Marcus kissed along your shoulder while fixing your bra. He reached by you to pull a few tissue papers, pulling out with a groan before cleaning your mixed mess as he continued to kiss your shoulder, your neck, your temple, before throwing them in the bin and turning you in his arms. 

When his lips pressed against yours they were much softer now, his hands rubbing up and down your arms as you relaxed into his touch. 

He was always like this - hungry for you the second you stepped over the threshold of his office as he took you hard and fast like he couldn't hold back until you were both getting dressed again and his touch turned softer, lingering for a second like he didn't want to say goodbye just yet. 

When he finally pulled back he kissed your forehead once, doing his belt back up as you scanned around for your shirt. 

It had been thrown over the chair and you shook your head with a laugh as Marcus walked around to the other side of the desk, pulling the white material back from being inside out and slipping it over your head. 

“Are you hungry?”

You looked up from where you were tucking your t-shirt back into the skirt, glancing quickly at the clock and noticing it was well later than you usually stayed before turning to Marcus. He looked… nervous; his fingers tapping on his desk and his teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“I could eat?” You found yourself staying, not quite sure where this was going. 

Maybe he didn't eat his lunch and was offering you to take it, he'd done that once before - the first night he had also drove you home, or maybe he was just making conversation. He walked around the table before stopping in front of you, a large gap between your bodies as you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Do you- Do you want to get some?”

“Food?”

“Yeah, yes, if you want? There's a diner on the way to yours that is open late if you need a lift?”

“I don't need a lift, I- I brought my car,” you said, shaking your head and he nodded, offering a tight lip smile as he placed his hands in his pocket. 

“You're right, it's fine, forget it I-”

“No wait,” you stopped him, reaching forward and grabbing his forearm that was still bare with his shirt sleeves bunched up below his elbows. “I’d like to go,” you said slowly and he tilted his head ever so slightly, looking cuter than he should after just bending you over the table and fucking you hard. “I’ll just need to drive my car so I have it in the morning but I could follow you there?”

His nerves turned into a soft smile, his hands sliding from his pockets as he stepped forward against and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I just need to get a few things but I can meet you down at the entrance?” You nodded back, reaching to squeeze his hand before turning and heading back to the office you worked out from.

It almost felt domestic, the way his kiss had lingered on the edge of your lip as your hand squeezed his before you were both heading down to meet at the door.

You knew you would be lying to say that you hadn’t thought about if there could be more between you, if maybe whatever this was could slip into something else, and so you couldn’t stop the butterflies that swarmed your stomach as you grabbed your jacket and bag and headed down the stairs.

He was already waiting by the door by the time you got to the ground floor, his back leaning against it and his jacket folded over his arm as he held his briefcase. 

His head lifted up to look at you, a smile covering his face as he held out a hand towards you and you held your breath, slipping yours into the hold like it was made to fit.

//

tags

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