Marcus Pike X Female Reader - Tumblr Posts
Paper Rings
Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader
Warnings: MDNI blog in general is 18+ go on now, get. Fluff, innuendos, panicked Marcus, cussing, think that's it?
Summary: Marcus wants to ask you an important question.
Mood board made by the amazing @jay-zzle, divider made by @saradika-graphics
Prompt by: @swiftispunk, let me know what ya think!
thank you @notjustjavierpena for taking a look at this and helping me with it! ❤️
Masterlist||AO3 Link
Tonight’s the night, Marcus thinks on his drive home. He’s going to ask her to marry him. After their first date, he knew deep down she was the one. Three years later and the feeling hasn’t changed. He’s asked her dad’s permission, the ring has been sitting in his dresser for months now, the reservations have been made at Mastro’s Steakhouse. He clicks the remote for the garage as he pulls into the driveway, taking a deep breath in and out before getting out of the car and going into the house.
You hear the door open downstairs; Marcus must be home. Just in time too; he had told you earlier this morning about making reservations somewhere and to dress pretty like you always do. Working on the finishing touches of your makeup, you see his reflection in the bathroom mirror smiling at you, leaning against the doorway.
“Hey babe,” you greet him with a warm smile, “I am almost done. Is there anything you need to do to get ready?”
“Not much,” Marcus responds, walking away from the doorway to the dresser, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re still in the bathroom, and slowly opening the drawer he knows the ring is in, “Need to use the bathroom before we go and might change my suit jacket.” His hand creeps to the very back of the dresser, feeling for that velvet box he knows all too well is there. His fingers touch it, grasping it in his hand, quickly pulling it out, and shoving it into his jacket pocket just as you’re leaving the bathroom. He shuts the drawer quickly and turns to look at you.
“What are you doing?” You ask, giving him a suspicious look.
“Nothing,” he replies, raising his eyebrows, noticing the lone pair of socks on the floor that escaped the drawer as he was pulling the ring out, “Was going to change my socks. My feet feel gross.”
“Okay?” You giggle, shaking your head, getting your shoes on, “Weirdo.”
“Shush, you love me and wouldn’t have it any other way.” He grins at you, picking up the socks and going to sit on the bed.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You grin, “Will you help me with the back of my dress?”
He helps zip your dress up, giving the back of your neck a light kiss, shucking off his suit jacket, and laying it on the bed on his way to the bathroom.
“I’ll meet you downstairs.”
__
“Where are we going?” You ask, looking over at Marcus, waiting for the red light to change.
“Now what’s the fun in telling you when it is supposed to be a surprise?” He says, squeezing your thigh, “Patience.”
You roll your eyes and scoff. The car starts moving again when the light turns green. Marcus is so meticulous in everything he does. Always has a plan, a certain way of doing things, likes to be spontaneous to an extent but usually always a set schedule. You love those things about him, he’s the comfort in the chaos that life can sometimes be. He pulls into one of the fanciest restaurants in Washington D.C.
“Oh my god, Marcus,” you whisper, “How on earth did you get a reservation?”
“I was able to make some calls,” he says, stepping out of the vehicle, making his way to your door. “Had some people who owed me some favors.” He explains, opening your door for you and offering his hand. You take his hand and let him lead you. Handing off his keys to the valet. Walking into the restaurant you are greeted by the hostess.
“Good evening, sir,” she says with a bright smile, “Name?”
“Should be under Pike.”
“Ah yes, right this way.” She says, marking in the book and grabbing a couple menus before leading the way.
You cannot believe your eyes looking around at this place. There is a bar, a live jazz band playing, and plenty of couples sitting at the other tables.
“Is this table okay, Mr. Pike?” The hostess asks when she stops at an empty table.
“It’s perfect, thank you.” Marcus smiles, stepping over to the chair closest to you and sliding it out for you.
“Your waiter will be right with you.” She says, giving a small nod setting the menus down on the table.
You sit in the chair, grabbing the menu, watching Marcus move to the other side of the table to sit down across from you.
“So, Mr. Pike,” you smirk, “What on earth is the special occasion?”
“Just wanted to take you somewhere nice,” he replies, cocking an eyebrow, “Is that not allowed?”
“You’re up to something.”
“I am not,” Marcus grins, opening his menu, “What do you think you’ll have?”
“I’m thinking the salmon, although those crab cakes would be a good start, don’t you think?”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“Good evening and welcome to Mastro’s Steakhouse, I’m Jared and I’ll be your waiter this evening.” A young man who approaches the table says, “Can I get you two something to drink?”
“I want whatever wine pairs the best with the New York strip, sweetheart?”
“You know, I’ll think I’ll do the same thing he’s doing, Mr. Wine Connoisseur over there,” you laugh, “Whatever pairs well with the salmon dish.”
“Alright, I will ask the chef what he thinks would be the best.”
“Oh!” You say as Jared starts to leave the table, “Crab cakes! We want the crab cakes as our appetizer.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
—
It’s now or never, Marcus thinks. The evening went exactly how he wanted it to, the meal was fantastic, the wine amazing, the dessert ordered to go will be arriving soon. This is the perfect moment to ask her.
“You know,” Marcus says, grabbing your hands, rubbing them softly, “You were right, I do have something special planned for us.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Marcus takes a deep breath in and lets it out, “Babe, I knew from the moment that I met you I wanted to be with you.”
He pulls your hands to his lips and gives them a soft kiss.
“After our first date, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.”
He stands up and gets down on one knee. You can hear people begin to whisper around you, watching the scene before you unfold.
“Oh my god” You say holding his hand tighter, “Marcus?”
“Baby, I love you so very much and I—” he says, patting the pocket of his suit jacket. “Fuck.”
“Babe?”
“No, no, no,” Marcus says, frantically searching his suit jacket and pants. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”
“Marcus,” you say, holding his face, “Look at me.”
He looks up at you with those big brown eyes you love. “I swear there’s a ring. I changed my jacket not even think—"
“Babe, I don’t care.” You smile, interrupting his panicked ramblings, “Ask me.”
“But the ring?”
“Don’t care, ask me.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck slotting your mouth against his. You can hear several of the other patrons clapping.
“Congratulations!” Jared says, returning to your table with your dessert.
“Thank you!” You say, beaming with joy.
—
On the drive home you can’t stop smiling like an idiot while holding Marcus’ hand. This is everything you dreamed about as a little girl; finding the perfect person to spend your life with and that is Marcus through and through.
“I still can’t believe I forgot the fucking ring!” Marcus says, shaking his head.
“Babe, you could’ve asked me with a ring made of paper and I would’ve said yes,” you laugh, “That’s the last thing I care about.”
“Well, a paper ring would be better than nothing!”
Approaching a gas station on the side of the road, an idea popped into your head.
“Stop!” You yelp, “Stop at that gas station!”
Marcus gives you a sideways look but pulls in regardless. Never one to refuse your requests.
“Cash?” You ask with your sweetest smile.
“Why’d we stop here?” He asks, rolling his eyes while getting his wallet out and handing you a twenty. You just give him a mischievous grin while getting out of the car. The door dings when you step into the gas station, making a beeline to the candy aisle and finding exactly what you were looking for: A bag of ring pops. Unable to contain your excitement, you let out a little squeal while grabbing them and head to the front.
“That’ll be $4.98.” The cashier says after ringing up your candy. You slap the twenty down on the counter and grab the bag running out.
“Thank you! Keep the change!” You shout behind you.
Getting back to the car, you see Marcus shaking his head trying to hold in his laughter. You make quick work of opening the bag, getting one singular ring pop out, and opening that as well, tapping on his window quickly, telling him to get out of the car.
“What on earth are you doing, honey?” Marcus laughs, opening the car door.
“You said something would be better than nothing,” you laugh, “Here’s something!”
You hand him the ring pop. He shakes his head looking at it.
“Baby,” Marcus starts looking up at you. “A ring pop? Really?”
“Marcus!” You huff, crossing your arms, “Are you gonna ask me?”
“Here?!” Marcus looks at you with surprise, looking at the ground, “Babe, this is a gas station parking lot!”
“And?”
“Babe, my pants—“
“Marcus Vincent Pike,” You scold, giving him a look that he knows means business.
“Okay, okay,” He says laughing, grabbing your hand, sliding out of the seat of the car with one knee on the ground, “Baby, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
“Duh!” You say, jumping up and down as he slides the ring pop onto your finger. “It’s beautiful!”
Marcus bursts into laughter as you shove the ring pop into your mouth. “Tasty too!” You say after popping it out of your mouth.
Marcus grabs your hand, lifting it to his mouth, pushing the ring pop in, hollowing his cheeks a little, letting out a soft sigh. You can feel your mouth getting dry while you watch him suck on the ring pop. The makeshift engagement ring makes a soft pop as he lets it leave his mouth.
“I can think of something that’s sweeter,” he says with a sly smile and wink, letting go of your hand.
Im so glad you liked it! @heareball ❤️
Paper Rings
Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader
Warnings: MDNI blog in general is 18+ go on now, get. Fluff, innuendos, panicked Marcus, cussing, think that's it?
Summary: Marcus wants to ask you an important question.
Mood board made by the amazing @jay-zzle, divider made by @saradika-graphics
Prompt by: @swiftispunk, let me know what ya think!
thank you @notjustjavierpena for taking a look at this and helping me with it! ❤️
Masterlist
Tonight’s the night, Marcus thinks on his drive home. He’s going to ask her to marry him. After their first date, he knew deep down she was the one. Three years later and the feeling hasn’t changed. He’s asked her dad’s permission, the ring has been sitting in his dresser for months now, the reservations have been made at Mastro’s Steakhouse. He clicks the remote for the garage as he pulls into the driveway, taking a deep breath in and out before getting out of the car and going into the house.
You hear the door open downstairs; Marcus must be home. Just in time too; he had told you earlier this morning about making reservations somewhere and to dress pretty like you always do. Working on the finishing touches of your makeup, you see his reflection in the bathroom mirror smiling at you, leaning against the doorway.
“Hey babe,” you greet him with a warm smile, “I am almost done. Is there anything you need to do to get ready?”
“Not much,” Marcus responds, walking away from the doorway to the dresser, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re still in the bathroom, and slowly opening the drawer he knows the ring is in, “Need to use the bathroom before we go and might change my suit jacket.” His hand creeps to the very back of the dresser, feeling for that velvet box he knows all too well is there. His fingers touch it, grasping it in his hand, quickly pulling it out, and shoving it into his jacket pocket just as you’re leaving the bathroom. He shuts the drawer quickly and turns to look at you.
“What are you doing?” You ask, giving him a suspicious look.
“Nothing,” he replies, raising his eyebrows, noticing the lone pair of socks on the floor that escaped the drawer as he was pulling the ring out, “Was going to change my socks. My feet feel gross.”
“Okay?” You giggle, shaking your head, getting your shoes on, “Weirdo.”
“Shush, you love me and wouldn’t have it any other way.” He grins at you, picking up the socks and going to sit on the bed.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You grin, “Will you help me with the back of my dress?”
He helps zip your dress up, giving the back of your neck a light kiss, shucking off his suit jacket, and laying it on the bed on his way to the bathroom.
“I’ll meet you downstairs.”
__
“Where are we going?” You ask, looking over at Marcus, waiting for the red light to change.
“Now what’s the fun in telling you when it is supposed to be a surprise?” He says, squeezing your thigh, “Patience.”
You roll your eyes and scoff. The car starts moving again when the light turns green. Marcus is so meticulous in everything he does. Always has a plan, a certain way of doing things, likes to be spontaneous to an extent but usually always a set schedule. You love those things about him, he’s the comfort in the chaos that life can sometimes be. He pulls into one of the fanciest restaurants in Washington D.C.
“Oh my god, Marcus,” you whisper, “How on earth did you get a reservation?”
“I was able to make some calls,” he says, stepping out of the vehicle, making his way to your door. “Had some people who owed me some favors.” He explains, opening your door for you and offering his hand. You take his hand and let him lead you. Handing off his keys to the valet. Walking into the restaurant you are greeted by the hostess.
“Good evening, sir,” she says with a bright smile, “Name?”
“Should be under Pike.”
“Ah yes, right this way.” She says, marking in the book and grabbing a couple menus before leading the way.
You cannot believe your eyes looking around at this place. There is a bar, a live jazz band playing, and plenty of couples sitting at the other tables.
“Is this table okay, Mr. Pike?” The hostess asks when she stops at an empty table.
“It’s perfect, thank you.” Marcus smiles, stepping over to the chair closest to you and sliding it out for you.
“Your waiter will be right with you.” She says, giving a small nod setting the menus down on the table.
You sit in the chair, grabbing the menu, watching Marcus move to the other side of the table to sit down across from you.
“So, Mr. Pike,” you smirk, “What on earth is the special occasion?”
“Just wanted to take you somewhere nice,” he replies, cocking an eyebrow, “Is that not allowed?”
“You’re up to something.”
“I am not,” Marcus grins, opening his menu, “What do you think you’ll have?”
“I’m thinking the salmon, although those crab cakes would be a good start, don’t you think?”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“Good evening and welcome to Mastro’s Steakhouse, I’m Jared and I’ll be your waiter this evening.” A young man who approaches the table says, “Can I get you two something to drink?”
“I want whatever wine pairs the best with the New York strip, sweetheart?”
“You know, I’ll think I’ll do the same thing he’s doing, Mr. Wine Connoisseur over there,” you laugh, “Whatever pairs well with the salmon dish.”
“Alright, I will ask the chef what he thinks would be the best.”
“Oh!” You say as Jared starts to leave the table, “Crab cakes! We want the crab cakes as our appetizer.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
—
It’s now or never, Marcus thinks. The evening went exactly how he wanted it to, the meal was fantastic, the wine amazing, the dessert ordered to go will be arriving soon. This is the perfect moment to ask her.
“You know,” Marcus says, grabbing your hands, rubbing them softly, “You were right, I do have something special planned for us.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Marcus takes a deep breath in and lets it out, “Babe, I knew from the moment that I met you I wanted to be with you.”
He pulls your hands to his lips and gives them a soft kiss.
“After our first date, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.”
He stands up and gets down on one knee. You can hear people begin to whisper around you, watching the scene before you unfold.
“Oh my god” You say holding his hand tighter, “Marcus?”
“Baby, I love you so very much and I—” he says, patting the pocket of his suit jacket. “Fuck.”
“Babe?”
“No, no, no,” Marcus says, frantically searching his suit jacket and pants. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”
“Marcus,” you say, holding his face, “Look at me.”
He looks up at you with those big brown eyes you love. “I swear there’s a ring. I changed my jacket not even think—"
“Babe, I don’t care.” You smile, interrupting his panicked ramblings, “Ask me.”
“But the ring?”
“Don’t care, ask me.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck slotting your mouth against his. You can hear several of the other patrons clapping.
“Congratulations!” Jared says, returning to your table with your dessert.
“Thank you!” You say, beaming with joy.
—
On the drive home you can’t stop smiling like an idiot while holding Marcus’ hand. This is everything you dreamed about as a little girl; finding the perfect person to spend your life with and that is Marcus through and through.
“I still can’t believe I forgot the fucking ring!” Marcus says, shaking his head.
“Babe, you could’ve asked me with a ring made of paper and I would’ve said yes,” you laugh, “That’s the last thing I care about.”
“Well, a paper ring would be better than nothing!”
Approaching a gas station on the side of the road, an idea popped into your head.
“Stop!” You yelp, “Stop at that gas station!”
Marcus gives you a sideways look but pulls in regardless. Never one to refuse your requests.
“Cash?” You ask with your sweetest smile.
“Why’d we stop here?” He asks, rolling his eyes while getting his wallet out and handing you a twenty. You just give him a mischievous grin while getting out of the car. The door dings when you step into the gas station, making a beeline to the candy aisle and finding exactly what you were looking for: A bag of ring pops. Unable to contain your excitement, you let out a little squeal while grabbing them and head to the front.
“That’ll be $4.98.” The cashier says after ringing up your candy. You slap the twenty down on the counter and grab the bag running out.
“Thank you! Keep the change!” You shout behind you.
Getting back to the car, you see Marcus shaking his head trying to hold in his laughter. You make quick work of opening the bag, getting one singular ring pop out, and opening that as well, tapping on his window quickly, telling him to get out of the car.
“What on earth are you doing, honey?” Marcus laughs, opening the car door.
“You said something would be better than nothing,” you laugh, “Here’s something!”
You hand him the ring pop. He shakes his head looking at it.
“Baby,” Marcus starts looking up at you. “A ring pop? Really?”
“Marcus!” You huff, crossing your arms, “Are you gonna ask me?”
“Here?!” Marcus looks at you with surprise, looking at the ground, “Babe, this is a gas station parking lot!”
“And?”
“Babe, my pants—“
“Marcus Vincent Pike,” You scold, giving him a look that he knows means business.
“Okay, okay,” He says laughing, grabbing your hand, sliding out of the seat of the car with one knee on the ground, “Baby, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
“Duh!” You say, jumping up and down as he slides the ring pop onto your finger. “It’s beautiful!”
Marcus bursts into laughter as you shove the ring pop into your mouth. “Tasty too!” You say after popping it out of your mouth.
Marcus grabs your hand, lifting it to his mouth, pushing the ring pop in, hollowing his cheeks a little, letting out a soft sigh. You can feel your mouth getting dry while you watch him suck on the ring pop. The makeshift engagement ring makes a soft pop as he lets it leave his mouth.
“I can think of something that’s sweeter,” he says with a sly smile and wink, letting go of your hand.
I’m glad you liked it! ❤️
Paper Rings
Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader
Warnings: MDNI blog in general is 18+ go on now, get. Fluff, innuendos, panicked Marcus, cussing, think that's it?
Summary: Marcus wants to ask you an important question.
Mood board made by the amazing @jay-zzle, divider made by @saradika-graphics
Prompt by: @swiftispunk, let me know what ya think!
thank you @notjustjavierpena for taking a look at this and helping me with it! ❤️
Masterlist
Tonight’s the night, Marcus thinks on his drive home. He’s going to ask her to marry him. After their first date, he knew deep down she was the one. Three years later and the feeling hasn’t changed. He’s asked her dad’s permission, the ring has been sitting in his dresser for months now, the reservations have been made at Mastro’s Steakhouse. He clicks the remote for the garage as he pulls into the driveway, taking a deep breath in and out before getting out of the car and going into the house.
You hear the door open downstairs; Marcus must be home. Just in time too; he had told you earlier this morning about making reservations somewhere and to dress pretty like you always do. Working on the finishing touches of your makeup, you see his reflection in the bathroom mirror smiling at you, leaning against the doorway.
“Hey babe,” you greet him with a warm smile, “I am almost done. Is there anything you need to do to get ready?”
“Not much,” Marcus responds, walking away from the doorway to the dresser, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re still in the bathroom, and slowly opening the drawer he knows the ring is in, “Need to use the bathroom before we go and might change my suit jacket.” His hand creeps to the very back of the dresser, feeling for that velvet box he knows all too well is there. His fingers touch it, grasping it in his hand, quickly pulling it out, and shoving it into his jacket pocket just as you’re leaving the bathroom. He shuts the drawer quickly and turns to look at you.
“What are you doing?” You ask, giving him a suspicious look.
“Nothing,” he replies, raising his eyebrows, noticing the lone pair of socks on the floor that escaped the drawer as he was pulling the ring out, “Was going to change my socks. My feet feel gross.”
“Okay?” You giggle, shaking your head, getting your shoes on, “Weirdo.”
“Shush, you love me and wouldn’t have it any other way.” He grins at you, picking up the socks and going to sit on the bed.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You grin, “Will you help me with the back of my dress?”
He helps zip your dress up, giving the back of your neck a light kiss, shucking off his suit jacket, and laying it on the bed on his way to the bathroom.
“I’ll meet you downstairs.”
__
“Where are we going?” You ask, looking over at Marcus, waiting for the red light to change.
“Now what’s the fun in telling you when it is supposed to be a surprise?” He says, squeezing your thigh, “Patience.”
You roll your eyes and scoff. The car starts moving again when the light turns green. Marcus is so meticulous in everything he does. Always has a plan, a certain way of doing things, likes to be spontaneous to an extent but usually always a set schedule. You love those things about him, he’s the comfort in the chaos that life can sometimes be. He pulls into one of the fanciest restaurants in Washington D.C.
“Oh my god, Marcus,” you whisper, “How on earth did you get a reservation?”
“I was able to make some calls,” he says, stepping out of the vehicle, making his way to your door. “Had some people who owed me some favors.” He explains, opening your door for you and offering his hand. You take his hand and let him lead you. Handing off his keys to the valet. Walking into the restaurant you are greeted by the hostess.
“Good evening, sir,” she says with a bright smile, “Name?”
“Should be under Pike.”
“Ah yes, right this way.” She says, marking in the book and grabbing a couple menus before leading the way.
You cannot believe your eyes looking around at this place. There is a bar, a live jazz band playing, and plenty of couples sitting at the other tables.
“Is this table okay, Mr. Pike?” The hostess asks when she stops at an empty table.
“It’s perfect, thank you.” Marcus smiles, stepping over to the chair closest to you and sliding it out for you.
“Your waiter will be right with you.” She says, giving a small nod setting the menus down on the table.
You sit in the chair, grabbing the menu, watching Marcus move to the other side of the table to sit down across from you.
“So, Mr. Pike,” you smirk, “What on earth is the special occasion?”
“Just wanted to take you somewhere nice,” he replies, cocking an eyebrow, “Is that not allowed?”
“You’re up to something.”
“I am not,” Marcus grins, opening his menu, “What do you think you’ll have?”
“I’m thinking the salmon, although those crab cakes would be a good start, don’t you think?”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“Good evening and welcome to Mastro’s Steakhouse, I’m Jared and I’ll be your waiter this evening.” A young man who approaches the table says, “Can I get you two something to drink?”
“I want whatever wine pairs the best with the New York strip, sweetheart?”
“You know, I’ll think I’ll do the same thing he’s doing, Mr. Wine Connoisseur over there,” you laugh, “Whatever pairs well with the salmon dish.”
“Alright, I will ask the chef what he thinks would be the best.”
“Oh!” You say as Jared starts to leave the table, “Crab cakes! We want the crab cakes as our appetizer.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
—
It’s now or never, Marcus thinks. The evening went exactly how he wanted it to, the meal was fantastic, the wine amazing, the dessert ordered to go will be arriving soon. This is the perfect moment to ask her.
“You know,” Marcus says, grabbing your hands, rubbing them softly, “You were right, I do have something special planned for us.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” Marcus takes a deep breath in and lets it out, “Babe, I knew from the moment that I met you I wanted to be with you.”
He pulls your hands to his lips and gives them a soft kiss.
“After our first date, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.”
He stands up and gets down on one knee. You can hear people begin to whisper around you, watching the scene before you unfold.
“Oh my god” You say holding his hand tighter, “Marcus?”
“Baby, I love you so very much and I—” he says, patting the pocket of his suit jacket. “Fuck.”
“Babe?”
“No, no, no,” Marcus says, frantically searching his suit jacket and pants. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”
“Marcus,” you say, holding his face, “Look at me.”
He looks up at you with those big brown eyes you love. “I swear there’s a ring. I changed my jacket not even think—"
“Babe, I don’t care.” You smile, interrupting his panicked ramblings, “Ask me.”
“But the ring?”
“Don’t care, ask me.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck slotting your mouth against his. You can hear several of the other patrons clapping.
“Congratulations!” Jared says, returning to your table with your dessert.
“Thank you!” You say, beaming with joy.
—
On the drive home you can’t stop smiling like an idiot while holding Marcus’ hand. This is everything you dreamed about as a little girl; finding the perfect person to spend your life with and that is Marcus through and through.
“I still can’t believe I forgot the fucking ring!” Marcus says, shaking his head.
“Babe, you could’ve asked me with a ring made of paper and I would’ve said yes,” you laugh, “That’s the last thing I care about.”
“Well, a paper ring would be better than nothing!”
Approaching a gas station on the side of the road, an idea popped into your head.
“Stop!” You yelp, “Stop at that gas station!”
Marcus gives you a sideways look but pulls in regardless. Never one to refuse your requests.
“Cash?” You ask with your sweetest smile.
“Why’d we stop here?” He asks, rolling his eyes while getting his wallet out and handing you a twenty. You just give him a mischievous grin while getting out of the car. The door dings when you step into the gas station, making a beeline to the candy aisle and finding exactly what you were looking for: A bag of ring pops. Unable to contain your excitement, you let out a little squeal while grabbing them and head to the front.
“That’ll be $4.98.” The cashier says after ringing up your candy. You slap the twenty down on the counter and grab the bag running out.
“Thank you! Keep the change!” You shout behind you.
Getting back to the car, you see Marcus shaking his head trying to hold in his laughter. You make quick work of opening the bag, getting one singular ring pop out, and opening that as well, tapping on his window quickly, telling him to get out of the car.
“What on earth are you doing, honey?” Marcus laughs, opening the car door.
“You said something would be better than nothing,” you laugh, “Here’s something!”
You hand him the ring pop. He shakes his head looking at it.
“Baby,” Marcus starts looking up at you. “A ring pop? Really?”
“Marcus!” You huff, crossing your arms, “Are you gonna ask me?”
“Here?!” Marcus looks at you with surprise, looking at the ground, “Babe, this is a gas station parking lot!”
“And?”
“Babe, my pants—“
“Marcus Vincent Pike,” You scold, giving him a look that he knows means business.
“Okay, okay,” He says laughing, grabbing your hand, sliding out of the seat of the car with one knee on the ground, “Baby, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
“Duh!” You say, jumping up and down as he slides the ring pop onto your finger. “It’s beautiful!”
Marcus bursts into laughter as you shove the ring pop into your mouth. “Tasty too!” You say after popping it out of your mouth.
Marcus grabs your hand, lifting it to his mouth, pushing the ring pop in, hollowing his cheeks a little, letting out a soft sigh. You can feel your mouth getting dry while you watch him suck on the ring pop. The makeshift engagement ring makes a soft pop as he lets it leave his mouth.
“I can think of something that’s sweeter,” he says with a sly smile and wink, letting go of your hand.
This was so sweet and the ending cracked me up 🤣
Netflix & Chill
Marcus Pike x Female Reader
18+, MDNI
Summary: You spend your fifth date with Marcus at his place watching Netflix.
Or
You might be in your thirties, but you can still Netflix and Chill.
Warnings: fluffy smut. Kissing. Little bit of dirty talk. Fully clothed. Marcus just being the love of my life the entire time.
AN: Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. I am too busy having my brain absolutely disintegrated by thoughts of Agent Pike. I am sick over him. Down bad. Wanting to rip off my arms and beat myself senseless with them over him. Leave me alone!! But also leave me nice comments because I’m a slut with a praise kink lol. Thank you so much for reading 🤎
Graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics
Moodboard by me
“Oh god,” you whimper, both of you are fully dressed. You’re caged under his strong body as he pushes his hips down on you. You can feel his cock through his grey sweats and your thin, black yoga pants. The credits of whatever movie you were watching rolled in the background.
“Is this ok?” He asks, kissing at your neck and earlobe. The soft, fuzzy brown blanket falls around both of you, encasing you in his earthy and citrus scent.
“Ya, please don’t stop.” You writhe under him, feeling that familiar tingly pressure building. He smiles into the crook of your neck.
It was your fifth date with Marcus Pike, FBI agent and potential man of your dreams. In his younger years, he probably would have already slept with you by now. But age has made him a man of patience and waiting. Only giving what he’s willing to let go of, what he can nurture and grow. And for the first time in a long time, he thinks that might be you.
“I won’t stop, baby.”
Baby, shit. He panics internally. He’s only called you by your name until now. He nervously looks over at you and you smile sleepily.
“I like that,” you mumble.
“Which part?” He asks his voice like warm oil along your skin. “Me grinding into what I’m sure is the most beautiful pussy in the world, or the kisses on your soft, slender, vanilla scented neck, or me calling you baby?”
Your legs start to shake around him as you pull him in to kiss him hard. You sweep your tongue along his bottom lip. He tastes like the popcorn and expensive Cabernet Sauvignon you were both drinking.
“All of it,” you say between kisses.
He pulls away, bringing his hands to your face and gently wiping the few loose hairs that stick to your skin, then drags the tip of his nose down yours before resting his forehead against yours.
“You’re truly so beautiful. I’m so happy I met you, baby.” He pushes his hips into you harder and a pornographic moan fills the room as the trailer for whatever Netflix is suggesting next plays. “Sound so pretty too.”
“Marcus,” you say wantonly.
“I know. I’m here.” He says, eyes still locked on yours, one thumb making sweet, soft circles on your cheek while his other slips behind your head.
Your hands bunch into his white t-shirt. “I’m gonna cum,” you moan, letting his coca-cola coloured eyes wash over you, and drench your whole body in carbonated pleasure. Sparkling, bubbling, fizzing over the edge.
“I’m right here, honey.” He whispers, pushing into you a little faster. Your body jolts into his as you suck in quick, shallow breaths.
“Ohgodohgod. Mar-Marcus,” your walls clench tightly around nothing as he hits at your puffy, sensitive clit through your pants at the perfect tempo and pressure.
“Relax, baby. I got you.” He encourages and then you fall apart for him. Your body twitches on its own accord as your orgasm rolls through you for what feels like an eternity.
“That’s it,” he whispers, stilling his hips. “Just take. That’s a good girl.”
You clamp your eyes shut as you reach the top of it. “No, look at me, baby. You’re so beautiful like this.”
Pink flushes your cheeks at his words and the blood that seems to not know where to go in your body. Everything feels like it’s being doused with warm water as you finally come over the edge and the fluttering of your pussy slows.
His eyes dance around your face before he kisses your forehead, and the tip of your nose. You smile into his lips as he places a light and lingering kiss on yours.
“Are you okay?” He says sweetly, pulling back slightly.
“Ya, that’s was…” you search his face for any hint of regret but all you see is admiration. You finish with, “…unexpected, but amazing.”
As he starts to respond, a whipping sound followed by a moan comes from the TV. Both of your heads turn towards it.
“Netflix is suggesting 50 Shades of Grey,” he laughs.
“That’s more of a seventh date thing for me,” you say flatly as his face whips back to you. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction. Both of you now laughing as you sort yourself back out, cuddling into him to find a new movie to “watch” next.
Taglist:
@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @keylimebeag @pimosworld
@casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @jessthebaker
@jasminedragoon @pedroswife69 @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @pedroshotwifey
@mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @untamedheart81
Special tag for @survivingandenduring because I know you share my love of this man.
I can’t wait for this!!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍
![Because It's The Friday Before A Long Weekend [Happy MayLong Fellow Canucks!] And I Have Actually Been](https://64.media.tumblr.com/864a5354db342a724109c37c5587a5af/a83c231ff895017c-16/s500x750/0cde2794b9326f0573a1166184e8622e96a42d23.png)
Because it's the Friday before a long weekend [Happy MayLong fellow canucks!] and I have actually been writing, I wanted to thank you all for your patience and love. Navigating life sometimes feels like an iron poker in the eye but you guys soothe it to a dull ache 💜
Without any further ado, below is a snippet of Marcus Pike & Dex.
![Because It's The Friday Before A Long Weekend [Happy MayLong Fellow Canucks!] And I Have Actually Been](https://64.media.tumblr.com/3fec994e2c9026a503c0a7ad35cc89b3/a83c231ff895017c-59/s500x750/a4e672f936da85e420977d5b2c36fd018815d71b.gif)
Yours in sin,
Beefro👌🥩💜
You’d seen the pictures of him during training. The clean-shaven sharp jaw and trim toned body clad in a too big t-shirt and knee length shorts. That was not who stood before you. His shorts, while tighter, still looked like they fit. But that poor t-shirt was pulled tight across his broad chest and shoulders, and the hem was unable to traverse his ample middle, exposing about an inch above his belly button down to the curve of his underbelly. His face was flushed and his eyes pleaded with you. You cleared your throat and smiled, trying to hide the fact that your core was clenching on nothing. “It fits!”, you managed to squeak out and Marcus huffed and held his hands open to his sides.
YESSSSS!!!!! I’ve been waiting for this for forever and it did not disappoint! 😍😍😍 I see that “fiddlesticks” thrown in there 🤣
Let's Get Physical! feat. Marcus Pike & f!Reader
a Marcus Pike one shot | Rated: 18+ | word count: 3,883 warnings: swearing, rougher p in the v unprotected sex, fingering, talk about weight gain, belly appreciation, self esteem issues surrounding weight, reader is assumed to be shorter and lighter than Marcus, reader has long enough hair for Marcus to grip,
A/N: Okay y'all... here's the mam himself! Thank you to @rebel-held for their dedication and holding vigil for his arrival, and for @yahtiwakitakos for their love of Marcus! Thanks to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalpascal & @neverwheremoonchild for their eyes & thoughtful insight.
As soon as you’d gotten the desk next to Marcus, he knew you’d be friends. He’d transferred out of being on the field and to the home office in your state after a personal matter had him decide to transfer. Since that point, you’d worked closely together, learning almost everything you could about one another.
You’d taken to him almost immediately, but his kind and aloof manner kept you from pushing further to see if there was something more. You’d eventually fallen into a content and friendly rapport that turned into a work-based friendship.
Marcus learned about your love of reading, allowing you to collect obscure information, and you’d learned that he did not cook, opting for take out at every meal.
You’d even earned nicknames from one another. You called him Pickles after a long-forgotten joke about his last name, and he called you Dex, short for Poindexter, given you aptitude for Trivial Pursuit.
You worked side by side for four years, and in that time, you’d noted that Marcus had gained weight, but it wasn’t that noticeable – it was gradual. His clothing had always fit. He'd never had an ill-fitting suit or a too-tight dress shirt or jacket. Yes, you'd notice his weight fluctuate and increase, but he camouflaged it well with his clothing. Sure, he’d developed a bit of a softer jawline under the scruff on his face - it enhanced his pout with those big brown eyes; and yeah, his middle looked less trim, as did his thighs…
You’d told yourself that you really didn’t notice or care – Marcus was your friend.
You repeated those lies every time he’d look up at you and ask if you were ready for lunch or pat your shoulder as he said you’d done a good job. You did notice his waistline increasing and you thought it was sexy and hot, but your own internal battle with self image and weight had tarnished your ability to admit you liked heavier men and watched to help them get heavier.
You so badly wished he was more than a friend. He was kind and sweet, and never swore, even going so far as to tell you to ‘behave’ or ‘watch your mouth’ when you left an f-bomb slip. The way his big brown eyes watched you, you wished they were imagining you naked and crying out for him, and as you’d lose yourself in this fiction, he’d bring you back to earth, asking if you’d read the latest case file.
You’d told yourself that you really didn’t notice or care because Marcus was your friend.
*****
“Morning, Dex!”, he called as he meandered to his desk. He had two coffees in his hands from your favourite coffee shop… the one that was out of the way for him to get to on his way to the office… the one he only stopped at when he either needed a favour or had bad news.
You narrowed your eyes at him and motioned to the coffee with a pointed finger. “Stop. What’s that for?”
“Just wanted to get my best girl a coffee. S’that a crime?”, he smiled, trying to force as much innocence from his eyes as possible.
You didn’t move from your position and raised your brow. He sighed and put the coffees on the desk and slumped his shoulders, letting his work satchel drop to the floor.
“I need your help.”
“I knew it.”
“But you can’t laugh.”
His last statement made you freeze. Looking up at him, his face looked slightly pained as his winced, waiting for the sign to continue.
“Out with it, Pickles.”
“They want agents to be in the field. I saw the sign last night as I was leaving, so I looked into it. Don’t get me wrong – love the office but I miss field work.”
He paused, eyes searching your face for approval. You could see the worry on him, the fear of rejection to his idea. You nodded, arms gently moving from their crossed position, and you reached for the cup closest to you on his desk and took a sip. It was good coffee and you hummed in approval.
Marcus let out a breath he more than likely didn’t realize he was holding and continued. “There’s a catch thought – I have to pass a physical.”
You just about spat our coffee out and swallowed it funny, causing you to start coughing. You waved him off, sputtering an ‘I’m okay.’ as you motioned for him to keep talking.
“Yeah… uh – so the physical.”, he said slowly, watching you carefully with a bit of worry. “I have to pass the one I did when I was a rookie… the one we all had to pass. You sure you’re okay?”
You nodded again, trying to get the image of Marcus huffing and puffing on a treadmill, sweaty and just a plain mess… the same way you’d imagined he’d be on top of you… rutting and jack hammering you into your mattress…
“Yeah! Just peachy, Pickles!”, you croaked, the rasped out a laugh. “You want to go in the field and leave me behind? Be Mister Bigshot and meet some other prettier coworker to bring coffee?”
You were trying to tease him, but your words and the sharpness of your tongue sounded like they aimed to wound, and it wasn’t lost on Marcus.
“Well, why not come with me? We could be partners.”
Your heart fluttered at the thought of travelling with Marcus to different art crime scenes. You’d never been able to shake the stories he told about the weird things he’d investigated in the field. Yeah, there were the big things, but you were more intrigued by the obscure things he’d investigated, like the unnamed famous actor who’s inadvertently bought stolen vintage clown pornography, or the weird old grumpy suburban guy who cluelessly had a priceless - albeit mundane - horse painting hanging in his bedroom, or the time some government worker was caught at the airport with illegally imported erotic art from South America that reeked of cigarettes.
The idea had merit and you nodded, cautiously optimistic.
*****
"Look, I know what I said, but maybe...", Marcus called out from behind the bathroom door. "...maybe I am a little more out of shape than I thought." You stopped your advancement down the hallway and chuckled with a smile.
"What are you talking about?"
"It... it-uh... it fits... different."
You paused and as the cogs in your head turned, trying to decipher what he meant. It hit you and you felt heat bloom in your core and on your face as your smile exploded into a wide-eyed grin.
If what you were thinking was true, the gym clothing that was standard issue for all new FBI trainees - and would be the required outfit for his upcoming physical fitness test - would give you an eye full of how pudgy he'd really gotten. While sitting in your thoughts, your silence made Marcus nervous.
Deciding to just rip the band-aid off, he opened the bathroom door and stepped out.
Your jaw dropped.
You’d seen the pictures of him during training. The clean-shaven sharp jaw and trim toned body clad in a too big t-shirt and knee length shorts.
That was not who stood before you. His shorts, while tighter, still looked like they fit. But that poor t-shirt was pulled tight across his broad chest and shoulders, and the hem was unable to traverse his ample middle, exposing about an inch above his belly button down to the curve of his underbelly and giving you a full view of his love handles.
His face was flushed, and his eyes pleaded with you. You cleared your throat and smiled, trying to hide the fact that your core was clenching on nothing.
“It fits!”, you managed to squeak out and Marcus look at you stupefied and held his hands open to his sides.
“Really?”, he asked in exasperation, raising his eyebrows. “You think this – “, he motioned to his middle. “- qualifies as fitting?”
“I mean, you got it on? That means it sort of fits?” You winced as you spoke, trying to keep a pleasant smile.
“Fuck!”
You jumped as he let out one the loudest ‘fuck’s you’d ever heard, and your eyes grew wide that it was him who yelled it. He threw his hands up in the air and stood with his hands on his hips, knee popped. His jaw tensed as he looked away, stuck in thought, and you took the opportunity to gaze over his body, noting the way his stomach moved with each frustrated breath and the way his shoulders pulled the absolute life out of the shirt’s seams.
You were lost in thought ogling him and didn’t notice that he’d turned his attention back to you. When you finally looked up at him, both feeling your faces heat up slightly and an awkward silence sat heavy between you.
You decided to break the silence first, clearing your throat again. “Pickles, you… you look great.”
Marcus stated to laugh, and you couldn’t help but join him.
“I know I look like a busted overstuffed sausage – “
“Oh, stop it!”, you hushed him, stepping towards him. “Okay, sure, it doesn’t fit quite the same, but nobody stays the same size their whole life.”
He rolled his eyes with a smirk and nodded. “Fine.”
*****
So far, all the equipment in his apartment complex’s gym were now Marcus’ sworn enemies. The last three hours had been filled with Marcus angrily sweating and using every curse and swearword under the sun. He was so focused on being angry that he forwent any self consciousness about his clothes not fitting.
After another failed attempt at trying to navigate the elliptical, he yelled “PISSING SHITTING FUCKING COCK SUCKING MOTHER FUCKER!!” and stormed out of the gym. You quickly grabbed the things he left in his departure and followed him.
*****
“Fuck it! I’m not fucking doing this!”, he boomed, furiously ripping open his refrigerator and grabbing the carton of chocolate milk and chugged it.
You quietly tried to get him to water to hydrate, and contemplated asking why his swearing sounded so natural when you’d never heard him use anything harsher than ‘fiddlesticks’ prior to this. “Marcus… maybe some water would – “
He finished the chocolate milk then tossed the carton haphazardly into the sink, and his eyes aggressively looked you up and down. You closed your mouth and stood, light a deer in headlights, nervously fidgeting your hands as you felt heat bloom in your core and on your face.
“Don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re thinking!”, he barked at you, making you jump. “God dammit! You think I’m too fat and out of fucking shape to pass that physical! And you know what?”, he yelled, grabbing one of the giant pretzels he’d picked up yesterday from the kiosk in the mall. “You’re fucking right!”
He angrily bit into the pretzel and chewed, then huffed and ripped open the fridge again and grabbed a king-size can a beer. You watched, bewildered and bewitched, as he maneuvered between chomps and gulps of the pretzel and beer.
You’d never seen him this enraged and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Sure, you’d seen him get snide or lippy when he was frustrated, but you had no idea he could turn his temper up to eleven and he had such a vast array of foul words in his vocabulary – and find it so hot. You were staring at him, seeing that once he’d finished the pretzel, his hand went to his underbelly, pitching and kneading it slightly as he downed the rest of the beer. Your eyes were then pulled to his crotch in the almost too-small shorts and the noticeable bulge that had developed there.
Your lips parted and your brows tented. Marcus kept his eyes on your face, seeing the reaction you were having to his meltdown. It egged him on, knowing that you were getting something out of this. He’d longed for the chance to get to hold you beyond the occasional side hug or shoulder bump, wanting to touch you and make you feel as beautiful as he saw you. But he’d assumed you were completely fine being friends, given the way his weight had creeped up. He didn’t want to lose you by making a move and wrecking the chance to get the pieces of you that you allowed him to have access to. He’d stayed respectful, and courteous, and friendly, all while desperately wishing he was yours. But all that went out the window the moment he felt rage course through his veins and saw you look at him like that. He wanted you to be his.
He threw the empty beer can aside, hearing its tinny landing by the sink, and stalked towards you. Taken slightly aback at how aggressive his body language was, you stepped back and were stopped by the counter behind you. Marcus crowded you, standing over you, his belly moving against you with every ragged, angry breath.
“Marc – “
His name was cut off in your mouth as his collided with yours. He roughly grabbed your waist with one huge hand while the other held your face. He dominated the kiss, his tongue pushing for entrance again your lips, and you let him in, tasting the hoppy beer and salty yeast of the pretzel. As the passion built between you, the kiss deepened, becoming more fervent and urgent. His hands roamed, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. There was no rhythm to this kiss; it was him exploring and dominating and you submitting to him and your desperate needs.
You finally parted, panting and breathless. He looked beautiful; his eyes were dark with blown pupils and his lips were reddened. The hand that had held your waist moved down to the crux of your thighs and pressed against your Athleisure legging-clad core. Your mouth opened and a soft, breathy whine barely sounded out. The fury in his eyes had ebbed and morphed into an aggressive and possessive need, but he watched you, looking for any sign to stop. You gave nothing but green lights.
He leaned his face closer to yours, his nose nudging your cheek. You let out a small whimper and nodded, tilting your head, and he grazed his teeth along your cheek to your jaw, then bit down softly. With his mouth on you, he growled through his teeth, “Mine.”
He pulled back and turned your around, pushing your palms onto the counter, and he stood flush with his front to your back. As he grinded against you and bit and kissed your neck, he pushed your leggings down over your ass with one hand, the other pushed between your legs in the front.
“Oh fuck… you’re soaked, baby…”, he growled, biting the back of your neck. His middle finger ran along your seam, pulling a mewling whine from your mouth.
“You want me? Tell me you want me.”
When you didn’t answer beyond a frantic nod, he said your name in a low snarl and his grip on you tightened. “I asked you a question.”
“Mar-Marcus! Please!”, you cried out, feeling his finger circle then tap your throbbing nub repeatedly. You felt him smile against your neck, his other hand palming and squeezing your tit, and he started fucking into your wet heat with his pointer and index fingers.
“You’re so gorgeous… so funny… so smart… and you’re letting this fat guy finger you in his kitchen…”
His thumb caught your clit in the haste of his hand’s movement, and you let out a surprised yelp and your body jolted. The hand gripping your breast came up your sternum and secured itself around your throat gently, forcing you upright and flush against him.
“Juicy little snatch… just gripping my fingers, baby… you - you gonna cum for me, Dex baby?”
You whined and nodded. His hand moved up and he pushed two fingers into your mouth, exerting the power he had over you. He did it because he could, because you let him. You were both learning more about the other: he wanted to dominate, you wanted to be dominated.
You came as he pressed your tongue down, almost eliciting a gag from you. It felt filthy and raw and everything you’d hoped but never thought Marcus could be.
“There is it… Good girl… You’re mine… I’m gonna fuck that into you.”, he grunted and pulled both sets of fingers from your wet holes, shoving you down flush with the counter.
You’d barely finished cumming, let alone gotten through the aftershocks making your cunt flutter as he shoved his shorts down and lined up his cock with you and pushed in.
“Jesus fuck…”, you groaned. “You’re s’fucking big!”
“You like me big… say it. Say you like me being a fat desk jockey…”
“Yes… god yes…”
“Like seeing me eat, too, huh?... like watching me get fat?”
“Yes! Please… Marcus, please!”
You felt the beginnings of another orgasm as he pounded into you from behind and filled your mind with the images of him stuffing himself stupid on take out at work while you sat on his lap and helped feed him. It was a guilt-filled fantasy that you’d never allowed yourself to fully process and accept until this moment.
Marcus pulled out of you suddenly. Fearing you did something wrong, you made a frantic and breathless ‘huh?’ sound. He picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder.
“Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum, Dex.”
You couldn’t help but smile; Marcus was ever the romantic.
He tossed you on the bed and crawled up to you, pushing your legs apart. He took a moment to look at your pussy, smirking with a smug head shake, then locked eyes with you. He leaned forward, one hand landing beside your head and his other hand grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him, guiding his cock back into your desperate, wet cunt.
“Look at you… just gorgeous… “, he marveled with smug satisfaction as he pounded into you, watching your eyes close, brows furrow, and lips part to let out a soft pant.
His thumb came down on your clit, rubbing harsh, fast circles. “Come on, Dex… gimme one so I can watch… lemme see…”
“Marcus… I’m close…”
“I know, pretty girl… give it to me… come on… gimme one I can see…”
“Yes… right there! Right there!”
His thumb hit just the right angle and you fell apart as he pistoned you on his cock. Your hand reached up, gripping the arm above your head, and you arched your back in pure bliss.
“There it is… there you go… fuck, good girl… look at you… so god dammed pretty…”
The noises you made sounded alien coming from your mouth. You’d never heard this cacophony of whines, cries, mewls and moans come from your body before, and Marcus was revelling in it. He removed his thumb form your oversensitive nub, and he brought him body down onto your as he continued to thrust into you. His weight felt amazing; it was everything and ore than what you could have hoped, and you needed more of it on you. You hooked one leg on his hip, then brought the other one up, trying to lock your ankles. Marcus was too big, his love handled waist too wide and his thrusts now to frantic to get a good latch.
You raised your head and captured his mouth in a messy kiss, and he interlocked his fingers into yours. He panted into your mouth as you made eye contact; gone was the ferocious and angry man who’d fucked you in his kitchen and back was Marcus: sweet, funny, soft Marcus.
“Come on, Pickles.”, you whispered against his lips with a wry grin.
The surrendering groan that tumbled out of him matched perfectly with his out of rhythm thrusts.
“You gonna let me cum in you? Please?”, he panted, hips stuttering.
Nodding, you desperately whined, “Yeah… yes, please… please… c-cum in me!”
Marcus dropped his forehead onto yours. With a few more snaps of his hips with corresponding grunts, he let out a string of groans and panting breaths, then stilled in you.
You were both breathing hard, and his fingers flexed and relaxed repeatedly in yours as he came down from his high. Your mouth found his again briefly, then he pulled back and looked you in the eyes. His brows furrowed and his eyes softened further, as if the weight of what had just happened suddenly dawned on him and he was worried this was it for the two of you.
“Hey… hey hey hey…”, you soothed, hand coming up to cup his cheek, a soft smile on your face. “It’s okay… I’m okay.”
He nodded, still unsure, the blurted out, “I like you so much, Dex. I wanted this for so long…and I wanted it to be special, and – “
“It was special!”, you beamed with a smile, loving how adorably flustered he looked in contrast to before. “You hulked out and railed me in your kitchen!”
He stopped and looked at you, dumbfounded. Slowly, a smile peaked out on one side of his mouth. “You liked that.”, he huffed out in a laugh. “Dex, you kinky girl!”
You laughed and playfully slapped his arm. “Knock it off, Pickles!”
He pulled his softening cock from you and kissed you, both of you giggling.
Marcus pulled away and teased, “You liked getting railed by a fat guy… in the kitchen…”
“Yeah, I did!”, you challenged with a smile. “And I hope that fat guy does it again!”
His breath hitched and he swallowed, looking away for a moment. “So, you’re okay with…?”
He couldn’t finish saying what he wanted to. Years of poor self esteem and heart-breaking moments with other women wouldn’t let him, nor did that part of him want to hear your answer in case it was rejection. Your hand guided his face back to you.
“I wouldn’t have let you if I wasn’t.
His smile softened. “How about a date first?”
You couldn’t help the heat and shy smile that bloomed on your face, and he watched as you melted into his words.
*****
Marcus walked into the office the next Monday, carrying another two coffees from your favourite place. You were preoccupied with one of your coworkers but shit him a smile before returning your attention to the file before you.
He placed the coffees down, hung his coat and bag, then noticed the collection of tupperwear containers with a sticky note on them.
Getting takeout is fine, but this is a sampling of what I can do for you. Xoxo Dex.
He opened a few of the containers and in them were homemade versions of his absolute favourite take out meals. He brought one to his nose and inhaled, just as your coworker left the room. You walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, patting and squeezing his belly.
Marcus deciding he wasn’t ever going to need to pass a physical again.
No more tag list! follow @beefnotes for fic updates!
I loved this so much! It was so sweet!!!
Headshots
Marcus Pike Masterlist
AO3 Link
Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader. Reader has a nickname.
Summary: You're a photographer and you get a job working for the FBI, taking corporate headshots. On your first day, you run into a handsome Special Agent. The series follows their relationship.
Rating: Mature 18+ only
Warnings: Fluff. Implied smut. Rom-com vibes. Flirting. So much kissing. Non-stop nuzzling. Tiny bit of angst. Marcus in his plaid shirts. Marcus on a motorbike. Skiing. A cameo.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
{Series complete}
Extras
Confetti
Yessss!!!!! I loved this so much!!!!
Tommy Miller's Stall feat. Marcus Pike & f!Reader
Prompt: Marcus Pike + BBQ + "It's a Surprise. Close your eyes."
a @pedgito challenge fic | Rated: 18+ | word count: 2,852 warnings: swearing, talk of drinking beer, eating, bathroom stalls becoming shrines, Barbequed meats (consumed), broken AC, lack of air circulation, sweating, oral (m receiving), pork steeple in ham wallet (unprotected), bathroom shenanigans, pre-term ejaculation, cumming undone too soon, grey t-shirts
A/N: I know I am a day late with this and I know bc of that, it's probably not going to be included in the challenge, but I needed to release this! Apologies to @pedgito for my tardiness. This is not the previously met Marcus - he's a Marcus all of his own.
Thank you to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their love and support.
Traveling for work meant Marcus got to know all the random hole-in-the-wall eateries and Miller Bro’s Boy Howdy BBQ in Austin was one of his favourites. He loved the laid-back atmosphere and the story of why Joel & his brother Tommy bought the place from the previous owner – Tommy lost his virginity in the bathroom to a line cook named Rhonda and begged his brother to help him buy this drive of a restaurant and save it from demolition. There was even a plaque in the stall where Tommy ‘became a man in Summer ’89’.
Over the years, he’d gotten to know the menu and the Miller brothers. Joel was more aloof, preferring to stay in the kitchen or at the BBQ pit out back, while Tommy was happy to sit out with the customers like they were old friends, playing cards or sharing a few stories and laughs with them. The few times that Marcus had interacted with Joel were mainly to compliment him on the menu and tell him how much he liked the place; Joel would grunt and nod in thanks and head back into the kitchen.
There was another reason he liked coming to this place – you. From the first time he laid eyes on you as he darkened this place’s doorway six years ago, he knew he was hooked. You’d flashed your smile at him, flipped your hair and told him to, “Take any available seat, handsome. I’ll be right wit’cha!”
He’d learned that your nickname was ‘Peaches’ on account of your penchant to recommend the peach and bourbon barbeque sauce that was house made. He also learned that Joel kept an eye on him when you were around - he would catch Joel narrowing his eyes at him through the kitchen service window when you were at his table taking his order. It used to make Marcus nervous, thinking he might get something extra hidden in his food, but he decided that it was too delicious to care.
He'd taken a temporary position in the Austin office and for the last six months, he’d eaten at Miller’s every night and it was apparent. Marcus had assumed you were being kind when you called him handsome, especially now that he was barely fitting into the oversized summer attire he’d packed in late December before he’d come out to Austin and discovered that eating large portions of charbroiled meats at least once a day would alter your waistline so drastically.
His middle had filled out enough that the suits he wore throughout the day had to be tailored repeatedly before being fully replaced to accommodate his new weight. And the summer clothing he was wearing, formally loose-fitting for the heat, were anything but. So, when you winked at him when he entered today and said that you’d be with him in a minute, he internally reminded himself that you were just doing your job.
Marcus sat heavily down and slid into the booth, then waited for you to come over to his table. As he sat, he noticed how warm the dining area’s temperature was and took in the slight sweat ring and patches that were forming on your grey Miller Bro’s Boy Howdy BBQ branded shirt. He also realized he didn’t hear the tell-tale whirling and churning sounds of the too-old AC unit that normally filled the vacant spaces between conversations. He looked up to the vent in the corner, and the streamers that normally danced in the airflow hung limp, and he wiped the back of his hand over his damp forehead. He was getting hot.
“Hey handsome.”, you smiled, a slight weariness in your eyes but your smile shone bright. “Usual or you wanna see the menu?”
Marcus smiled back, and not wanting to make you work any harder, nodded and responded, “The usual please, Peaches.”
His eyes trailed down your body, landing on your butt as you walked back to the service window, then smiled to himself. He looked up, then made direct eye contact with Joel who only offered a scowl followed by a judgemental head shake before he disappeared back into the depths of the kitchen.
*****
Marcus was sweating. After finishing his meal, Tommy had come around and sat with him, ordering more barbequed goodness and beers, telling him the beer was ‘on the house, ‘cause the fuckin’ AC shit the bed.’ This exclamation was followed by you reminding Tommy that the AC was broken because he spent the repair funds on a ridiculous crystal duck as a gift to impress a woman – a woman who happened to be the AC repair tech’s wife.
Even with the cool beer, Marcus felt overly hot. A belly stuffed to the brim with smoked and charbroiled meats while sitting in a hot, stuffy room with still air was getting to him. As Tommy stood, slightly wavering on his feet from all the beer he was consuming to match the beer he was giving away to customers, he heavily patted Marcus on the shoulder and muttered, “Take it easy, big guy… I’ll be back ‘round soon.”
*****
You were hovering around Marcus’ table, checking in on him and Tommy, and every time you moved towards the kitchen with another order, Joel would shake his head at you, much like he would at Marcus.
“One of y’all better make a move soon… fuckin’ pathetic.”
You huffed in response, cheeks heating up. “Shove it, Joel. Mind your business.”
“Jesus, Peaches! It’s my fuckin’ business if I’m payin’ you by the hour and have’ta watch this horse shit pussy footin’ between you and fat boy over there. Just go sit on his lap an’ get it over with.”
You gave him a warning glare and a smug grin tugged at one side of Joel’s mouth. He nodded to you, signaling to look and you saw Tommy leaving Marcus’ table.
“Gonna close early on account of the heat and the fact that I’m fuckin’ done roastin’ myself in this kitchen.” You heard Joel chuckle behind you. “Get’er done, Peaches.”
*****
Marcus stood and stretched after he finished his beer, feeling the weight he'd consumed in his stomach, and looking down, he could see the bulk of it, too. You watched his stand and stretch, exposing a sliver of his rounded-out middle between his shirt and shorts.
Tommy tsk’d, startling you. Turning around, you were met by his slightly drunk, glazed eyes, and a dopey smile. “Joel’s right, Peaches. Just bite the bullet and take that man for a ride in my stall.”
“Oh my god, Tommy!”, you exclaimed with a frown a little too loudly, shoving him back.
Tommy laughed and handed you a shot of bourbon. You rolled your eyes and slammed it alongside him. He then grabbed your shoulders, turned you to face Marcus’ direction and said in your ear quietly. “No harm, no foul in helpin’ him take in the sights Austin has to offer, Peaches.”, then shoved you towards his table.
You caught yourself from stumbling and cleared your throat as you approached him. Marcus turned and looked at you; a small smile spread on his face before a pink blush crept up his cheeks as he tugged his shirt down, closing the slight gap his stretch had caused.
You could feel the energy, electrifying and crackling like a late July thunderstorm, raging in the space between your bodies, pulling you together with a gravitational field that would rival the one caused by Jupiter’s giant spot. Marcus opened his mouth to speak but any words he was going to say were lost in his throat as you moved forward and kissed him. The soft exhale that came after his surprised gasp tasted like beer and barbeque sauce on your tongue that pushed against the seam of his lips. His hands, sticky and smoky, were tethered up in your hair, holding your face against his as he deepened the kiss, granting your tongue entrance in your tongue’s long anticipated dance.
You barely heard Tommy spit his beer out and sputter out choked coughs as Joel grunted then nodded in approval at what you and Marcus were up to. After depriving yourselves of full breaths for long enough, you parted, panting, staring at one another. Marcus’ shoulders and chest were heaving and his lips, parted and pouted, were wet from your combined saliva. His face was flushed, glistening in the low glow of all the tacky neon lighting adorning the walls, one side of his face pink from flamingos with sunglasses on, the other side flickering orange and yellow from the broken Corona promotional neon sign. He was beautiful.
At that moment, you didn’t think what you looked like, completely enraptured by the huffing and panting man sweating in front of you.
“Peaches…”, Marcus murmured, eyes wide and pleading. “I wanna do this right. I-”
You couldn’t let him finish, not if his next words could dampen the fire that had erupted in your core, making your hole twitch hard enough that you felt it in behind your belly button. You shook your head and shushed him, pressing your index finger against his lips. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the men’s washroom, directly into Tommy’s stall.
Thinking back, you would wonder how differently things would have gone if you’d pulled Marcus into a private area that wasn’t designed for single occupancy. The stalls in this restaurant were small, given that the original design of the washrooms did not include stalls at all, and Marcus was no longer a small man. But good god, the feeling of your body pushed up against his as he was backed against the stall door, mashing your mouths together.
You were still taking the lead in this dance, setting the pace and motions, while Marcus finally allowed his hands to touch more than anywhere above your collarbone. He gripped your waist with one hand and the other pushed its way between your bodies to clumsily try and shove it down the front of your pants. You both awkwardly tried to undress one another as you kept your lips and tongues attached, panting and grunting. If someone walked into the bathroom, they might assume there were two dogs quietly fighting over a piece of beef in the stall.
Once your jean shorts were open, Marcus wasted no time in shoving them down enough to shove his barbeque-tinged fingers into them. He eventually found what he was looking for when the tip of his finger grazed your sensitive and twitching nub, eliciting a gasping moan from you as you involuntarily bucked your hips. It was what tipped you over the edge, prompting you to swing him around and fumble with his button fly. He pulled back and his hands gently held yours, halting your mission to get his pants off.
“Marcus…”, you panted against his mouth.
“I haven’t… it’s been a while since…”, he stumbled through his words.
It seemed like time was slowing and you smiled softly at him. “Close your eyes.”
He hesitated, sucking in a breath nervously. “Why?”
“It’s a surprise. Close your eyes.”
His brows twitched and did as he was told and you sank to your knees, sliding your hands down his torso and thighs, and he let out a soft whimper once he realized where you were headed. Once on your knees, you pushed up his shirt and pressed a kiss right below his belly button and steadied yourself with your forehead against his full and rounded out stomach, your hands now free to get his shorts opened and down. His cock was pushing an impressive bulge in his grey boxer briefs, and you could see where the tip was pressing, a dark, damp patch at its peak.
Pulling down his underwear, his cock popped out and slapped up against his heavy underbelly, and without any hesitation, you grabbed it and sucked the tip into your mouth.
Marcus moaned out a surprised gasp and his hand gently rested on the crown of your head.
“I-oh fuck! I won’t… I wont last long. Peaches, please, honey.”, he whined, his fingers curling into your hair ever so gently.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t last long. His balls had just started to lift and tighten as you pulled off, and you looked up at him, marveling at the sight above you. Marcus was leaning back against the stall door, and you could only see his tented brows above his closed eyes before his belly obstructed the view.
Standing up, you smoothed your hands over his middle and leaned in to kiss him. He smiled against your mouth, and took a chance in moving away from the door and his arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into him. He maneuvered the both of you, now facing the stall door, ready to push you against it, to get on his knees for you, and pulled your shorts and underwear off completely.
But you stopped him, shoving his shorts and boxer briefs down his thighs, and pushed him back to sit on the toilet.
He fell back on to the lowered seat with a grunt, and you straddled his lap.
“Marcus,”, you breathe out as you start to seat yourself upon his cock. “I’ve wanted this for -oh god! for so long…”
He nodded frantically, and his fingers dug into your hips once your hips were finally flush with his.
“Oh…oh fudge…”, he moaned, clenching his eyes closed.
His breathing was quick and staggered, and his hips twitched and bucked under you. All you had done was allow your pussy to swallow his cock whole. He wasn’t kidding when he said that he wouldn’t last long, and the strain that reddened his face and the sounds leaving his mouth as you began to rock your hips slowly, trying to give him some time to adjust, but you needed to move.
“P-Peaches -”
You shushed him, and gripped his shoulder, starting to pick up the pace. His cock felt amazing - not too big or thick, but absolutely a perfect fit for you - just like him.
“Peaches - please, baby!”
Marcus tried to slow you down, tried to hold you down, tried to gain leverage by grabbing anything he could, tried shifting underneath you, but you were determined. You hushed him again, reveling in the harsh way he finally gripped your waist and hip with his large hands, and the rhythm you’d found bouncing on his cock. It was hitting just the right spot at just the right angle, and you could feel the early stirring of your climax.
But the sound of the toilet flushing from him sitting forward enough to set the sensors off and the loud, long groan that Marcus let out, followed by the feeling of warm cum shooting into you made you still in his lap.
He gripped you tighter, panting ‘Peaches!’ over and over, and pushed his face into your t-shirt covered chest, and his belly contracted and relaxed at an alarming pace.
“Oh god… oh no. I’m-I’m so sorry!”, he whined and whimpered into your cleavage, still unloading spurt after spurt into your pussy. “Oooooh! oh my go-I’m sorry…”
He panted out grunts and groans, and his face twisted against the front of your t-shirt in blissful agony with his brows furrowed and his mouth open. Wet, hot breaths and saliva heated up your chest, and his hips bucked a few times, the final drops of cum finally spitting out.
“P-Peaches - I’m sorry.”, he murmured, weak and breathless. “I-I couldn’t - it’s been a-a while… for me.”
You sat silently, feeling his cum leaking out of you. You’d never had a man cum that quickly before. Sure, you’d had guys finish first, but this was a record, and yet, you weren’t mad. You couldn’t be.
“Marcus – “
“Just too pretty... I-I tried… I-“
“Marcus – “
“I didn’t mean to… just so pretty and I-“
“Marcus!”
He finally pulled back and looked up at you, his big brown eyes pleading for mercy. “I really like you and I wanted to do this right; ask you out properly, and - “
“Take me home and finish me, Marcus.”
“I just - wait, what? You want me to-”
“Take me back to your place. Make me cum.”
His eyes widened in disbelief, and his mouth moved slightly, but no words came out, only small, confused breaths.
“I like you, too, and-”
“I want to take you for dinner first.”
You smiled and huffed out a laugh. “You just ate!”
He nodded, raising his brows and offered a small shrug. “Well, yeah, but you- uh, well you got me working up an appetite. And I -”, he looked a little bashful as he continued. “I want to - uh - perform well and I can do that after we get some food in and the beer out of my system.”
You pressed a sweet kiss onto his lips and both of you couldn’t help the giggles that started.
The door to the bathroom opened and slammed against the wall; Tommy’s slurred voice boomed out, “You two done? I wanna piss’n my stall.”
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