#marcus pike x afab!reader

[oogaboogasphincter]

Deceits of the Devil (priest!marcus pike x f!reader) | chapter one: the high priestess

series summary: when you find love in a priest, a litany of spooky events begin to follow you that can only be described as a haunting. is it your own guilty conscience that disturbs you... or could it be something else?

chapter summary: you're visiting your best friend in her new town for the first time when you are begrudgingly thrust into her devout way of life. however, something - or someone - makes you rethink your plans of avoiding the church at all costs.

word count/series~chapter-specific warnings: 6.4k+ words // MATURE (18+ ONLY) MDNI!: reader uses she/her pronouns and is incredibly non-religious, SLOW BURN TABOO RELATIONSHIP BABYYY, lots of religious/spiritual talk, horror elements and general spookiness ~ lots of character introductions so pls bear with me, mention of the death of a loved one and some light grief, food and eating mentions, sudden illness, potentially cringe banter, take a shot for every time i wrote 'father pike' in this (trust me we learn his first name soon enough but for now it's all formalities between him and reader), is this whole thing blasphemous? probably

a/n: sooo this is something very different from what i normally write, but i'm so excited to be trying something new! :) i'm not too sure where i want to take this story yet, so i don't have a total number of chapters or an ending planned (i really don't even have much of the plot figured out LMAO) but i'd really really appreciate any and all feedback from my readers! ♥️ let me know what you liked and what you want to see more of in future chapters!

“So I won’t burst into flames when I walk through the doors?” 

You ask your best friend, Lucy, sending her into a fit of laughter. She clutches your hand tighter in hers, squeezing it with pompous affection. Despite your best efforts to maintain your feelings of impartialness towards the church, your palm slips against hers with a sheen of clamminess as you travel closer to the hulking cathedral. 

“No!” She laughs, that breathless laugh you’ve always found comfort in. “You’re holier than most of the people who go every Sunday.” 

You scoff and give her some side-eye, something that just makes her shake her head even more. Whether or not this is how you wanted to spend your first day in Carmeltree visiting her, you are going to this harvest dinner. 

She sighs contentiously, contrasting the playful smirk on her face, “Trust me, you’ll be fine. Now come on, we’re gonna be late!” 

——

Lucy has been your best friend since kindergarten. The maple leaves that swirl around you both in the crisp autumn air as you run through the streets now invoke a fierce sense of nostalgia, one that’s almost painful. One of your first memories together is making leaf rubbings in class with the fallen leaves that blanketed the frosted school grounds. She liked warm colors and you liked cool colors; she liked maple leaves and you liked birch leaves. Two complete halves made an even brighter whole when you came together, and the rest is history. 

Despite the big city you grew up in, somehow you always managed to be in the same classes, share the same hobbies. But your luck had to run out sometime; when you both graduated, you got accepted into universities on opposite sides of the country. You kept up your communication, talking to each other every day and spilling your guts about everything, from the monumental to the regrettable, the joyous to the devastating. 

You thought something was amiss when she called you in the middle of the night a few months back. At first you brushed it off, thinking maybe she fell asleep with her phone in her hand and dialed you by accident, something you’ve both done plenty of times over the course of your friendship. When she called you back as soon as you didn’t answer, you knew there was something wrong. That’s when you learned her mom had passed away. 

It wasn’t sudden, but that didn’t spare her any devastation. You were there for her all day, every day. Consoling her when she wept, relishing in the happy memories that brought a rare but vital smile to her voice, sympathizing with her grief. But without a physical shoulder to lean on, Lucy went looking for more support to help her. 

Her mom was a devout Christian and, by proxy, so was Lucy. She isn’t as rigid in her faith as her mom was, but she always viewed it as a guiding light to betterment, a sturdy foundation to catch her when she crumbled. Luckily, the whirlwind of life events in the past six months that displaced her from her college friends to the small town of Carmeltree was gracious enough to gift her a tight-knit, painfully orthodox population. 

On the contrary, you grew up in a household without any influence of organized religion. Your family celebrated Christmas and Easter, but it was mostly for all of the gifts and chocolate. 

Religious differences never caused any turmoil between you and your best friend, because you love each other for who you are, regardless if you share spiritual beliefs. If praying and attending sermons helps Lucy to process her grief and gives her something that uplifts her soul, what kind of a friend would you be to forbid her from that? 

—— 

That doesn’t make you any more enthused about being dragged to the dinner held at the church to celebrate the autumn harvest. Lucy dropped the plan on you the second she picked you up from the major airport, whose segregating miles seem to swell with every second that passes. Knowing you would come up with an alternative plan you’d both like better, she didn’t give you a chance to back out, and you didn’t fight. Committed to being a good friend, and with a curiosity pricking your heart, you run alongside her through residual puddles as the street clocks chime eight times. 

And let’s get one thing straight - “church” was a dishonorable term for the structure you’re going to. For hundreds of years, since the first round of colonizing settlers that invaded this square patch of disparate land, the citizens have been addicted to worship. They would lend their last cent to their religion, egregiously ignoring their growling stomachs and dilapidated houses for the sake of a prosperous God. The result of this frenzied generosity is the biggest cathedral you’ve ever seen. 

You’re still a few blocks away, but the spires reach over the trees and spear up at the moon; whose craters can be seen with miraculous clarity on this autumn night. As you move closer and closer, the details in this spectacular of gothic architecture reveal themselves. There are a litany of pinnacles that stand like soldiers guarding their fortress and clerestory windows that dance and swish with light coming from inside the maw of the beast. When your eyes drift to angular beams that aid the structure - flying buttresses, if you remember correctly - your marvel is suddenly absent.

“No gargoyles?” you ask. 

Lucy matches your disappointment with a shake of her head, “They come too close to the pagan border.” It’s unmistakable the way she lowers her voice, though there’s only a handful of patrons a hundred feet away from you. 

Against the cloudless, darkening sky and a comically-eerie full moon, anyone would be dosed with at least a few drops of intimidation by the staggering black outlines. You fail to find any ease once you come to one of three entrances. The carvings of ancient tales you don’t know loom over your head in the angular tympanum and greet you with uncertainty. Are they supposed to make you feel welcomed or warned? 

The gigantic doors are swung and held open by their own weight, giving way to the narthex. There’s a singing choir hidden deeper within and their melodies echo all around you. A large chandelier emits a soft orange glow, which is peculiarly swallowed up instead of reflected by the intricate, gilded etchings that coat the walls. Maroon velvet beneath your feet turns into a dark abyss of shadows from the unprecedented amount of people in here. You cling to Lucy’s coat with both your hands, somewhat subconsciously, and she laughs before taking your hand in hers and parting though the sea. 

You’ll admit it, you can be very shy when you’re overwhelmed. Though for some inexplicable reason, crowds usually didn’t give you a fuss. You actually found a sense of comfort in being lost in the blur, blending in as just another body amongst hundreds, sometimes thousands of others. But you didn’t like this crowd, didn’t know these people, and not in a stranger-danger kind of way; you’ve unknowingly crossed the line of some Christians in the past and have dealt with their fiery ravings. From knowing Lucy all these years, you seem to have an understanding of their way of life, but then you slip up - use His name in vain, talk about a crush you have no plans to marry a little too fondly. You’ll be chewing on your third forkful and look up at the table, meeting ghastly stares and wanting to smack yourself in the face for completely forgetting grace. 

Lucy never scorned you about forgetting or misunderstanding the rules. She knew that you didn’t mean any malice, you just simply… thought it was all a little silly sometimes. Between lighthearted Lucys and tyrannical Karens, it felt like walking on a minefield. So, you guess, you do know these people; it’s their unpredictability that worries you. 

The claustrophobia wanes as you enter the nave. The ceiling spreads out, breathes, and is lined with stained glass windows that bend the moonlight into faint rainbows. Some of the outermost pews have been moved to accommodate long tables, adorned in chestnut velour, copper filigree and serve as the throne for only the most impressive squashes of the harvest. A buffet joins the autumnal decor, sitting in sterling silver that you can imagine was forged at the beginning of the century and is used only for occasions such as these. 

Ever atune to your mind and body, Lucy pulls you into the line of hungry patrons just as your stomach grumbles. You’re transfixed by the magnificent altar at the back of this illustrious cave, your eyes climbing up the grand steps of the sanctuary to the stone table where you know the priest stands when mass is held. You try to picture one giving a sermon and reciting from scriptures. Doesn’t he have a cup or something too?…

A plate is stuck in front of you, waving a little, and the priest laughs at you when he finally gets your attention. You take the plate with a little embarrassment, your smile a sheepish one. “Sorry,” you mumble with pity. 

The tall, wispy-haired man smiles with his teeth and places his arthritic hands around one of yours as you hold the plate. “Oh, it’s alright, my child. I myself have gotten lost in the wonders of the cathedral many times.”

Lucy chimes in, reading your awkward gaze. “It’s her first time,” she whispers with a little too much excitement for your liking. The priest puts on a goofy surprised expression, his eyebrows going up and his mouth forming a small 'o'. He looks back to you with a softer smile, “What a beautiful thing to witness, then. I’m Father Gala, pleased to meet you.” 

“There’s no one better to come here with for the first time than Miss Finkle. You’re in very good hands.” As you nod in agreement, you can’t help but wonder… what would this elder man, in his starched and pressed vestments, think if he knew you and Lucy had “practiced” kissing so you’d know what you were doing when the “real thing” happened? 

You wave the thought away like a gnat, not wanting to feel like you’re keeping another clean secret that’s considered dirty by some. You’re already under the guise of being a practicing Christian; Lucy had said they were more readily accepted than anyone else, despite the church’s proclamation of aiming for cultural diversity. 

The choir has ended their singing, replaced by applause then the soft, overlapping chatter of the religious folk, and their red robes merge seamlessly into the surrounding crowd. Three other priests emerge from doors on either side of the sanctuary, two from the door closer to you and one from the other. You don’t get a good look at the singular man, since the door is on the opposite side of the grand hall from you. The two others are deep in talk, gesturing with their hands and keeping their faces close to one another while they walk as to not let anyone eavesdrop. You move ahead in line and depart from the eldest priest, whom the two new faces greet and guide a few feet away from everyone. 

You don’t mean to pry, but you can’t help your curiosity and look back at the men. You can’t hear them, only watching their mouths move, but Father Gala’s sweet smile grows somber, then bitter. With scowling brows to match, the other two priests keep up their gestures laden with well-maintained passion as they tell Father Gala a story. 

In the first lull of this conversation, the eldest priest, with his arms crossed over his chest, flickers his eyes to yours without moving his head. Your heart springs from your chest to your throat. His glower lessens when he bites the inside of his cheek, but you feel a doubling, tripling of stress when the other two priests turn to look at you too. The taller one, with a jet black, scraggly bowl cut, mirrors Father Gala and crosses his arms. He looks down his long nose at you in dignified annoyance. The third, with stocky limbs and strawberry blonde hair, glares at you from his periphery. Your eyes widen, in an attempt to show them you’re not a threat, expose your remorseful guilt, or provide a silent apology, you don’t know.

Lucy snaps you back forward with a gentle push against your back to get you to move in the line. You’ve finally reached the buffet, but suddenly the smells that wandered up your nose in wispy, tempting little tendrils earlier instead worm their way down your esophagus and instill a powerful nausea. She can sense your discomfort, your disorientation from what just happened, and supplies your plate for you. With a protective gaze over your head at the men, and a loving hand on your bicep, she guides you to sit in the pew farthest away from them. 

She has to stick a fork in your petrified fist for you to speak. “What the hell was that about?” You question, chancing a glance over your shoulder at the offending party and see that they’ve gone off to greet guests with friendly smiles again. “I wasn’t trying to listen in, they just looked worried and-“

Lucy pats your knee once, “Don’t worry. There must be some sort of drama happening behind the scenes, something that the town would inquire about. Since they’re priests, they think they have immunity from gossip.” She scoffs lightly and you think you catch your devout friend rolling her eyes at those most holy. “They’ve been acting weird for a while now, off and on. One week, Father Gala is like Mr. Rogers, and the next, he’s Dracula.” 

That earns a snort from you, hiding your smile behind the back of your hand. She gives you a reassuring smile, filled with her signature warmth that’s comforted you all these years, “You’re doing great. Now eat.” 

Thankfully, your nausea has quelled enough that you taste the delicious food as it’s meant to be tasted. Maybe you don’t have to worry about foraging during your stay in this town void of all fast food, only relying on two quaint grocery stores to feed itself. You’ll just have to become friends with whoever made this delectably gooey mac and cheese. 

Lucy interrupts you, “Oh, by the way,” she covers her full mouth and then swallows, pointing daintily, “that’s Father Thorn,” at the tall one, “and that’s Father Angus,” at the blonde one. You nod once in understanding, taking a look at their faces to match their names with, before Lucy turns away with a laugh. She teases under her breath, “Maybe they’re all pissed they could never be as handsome as Father Pike.” 

“Priests can be handsome?” you ask of the mysterious fourth priest, bemused. Priests, deacons, popes and the like all conjure up images of men with wrinkles as delicate and numerous as the pages in the ancient books they abide by. If they’re not a million years old, they’re unsightly at best and possess a visceral lack of sensuality, like Father Thorn and Father Angus. Lucy has got to be pulling your leg. 

“Yes,” she breathes, a soft pink blooming in her cheeks, “and young, and warm, and have a voice that makes every sermon a lullaby, and big, tender hands…” she trails off in a dream.

You let out a laugh, amused by her dramatics. “Oh, so he’s really ugly, then,” you sneer, trying to expose her hyperbole. 

She giggles at your tone, shaking her head. You reign down on her, spurring her giggles on with a barrage of sarcasm until they’re uncontrollable.

“Is that why this place doesn’t have gargoyles, because he can take its place? Does he have leathery skin,” you drag your hands down your face, pulling your cheeks down to expose your eyes, “rotted fangs,” hold your hands by your mouth and snarl your fingers, “hairy feet with long, twisting toenails that tear through his shoes?” You get up and drag your feet along the floor, growling and licking your lips rabidly. 

Lucy doubles over, tears threatening to spill over her eyes every time her lungs have to suck in a breath, “Stop!” She’s wheezing and you drop the act, putting your hands on your hips. 

“Well, you gotta tell me if I’m wrong or not!” Tapping your foot, you await her retaliation, until a voice warm with a smile cuts through the air.

“You forgot the giant rat’s tail that drags behind me.” 

Your heart stops for a second, thumping wildly when it starts up again to catch the missed beats. Turning tentatively on your heel, you’re met with… exactly what Lucy described. 

Before you is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, if not the most handsome ever. Chocolate waves that crest over top one another in a cute, slightly overgrown style glisten like ganache on top of his head in the candlelight. He’s got a scruffy beard that’s cut close to his cheeks and jaw, avoiding looking unkempt, threaded with two or three streaks of gray. His aquiline nose is gorgeous, there’s a little dimple in his cheek that deepens as he’s smiling, and his eyes… oh, his eyes…

“I’m Father Pike,” he extends his hand in greeting, keeping his other tucked behind his back. He has to bend forward slightly to reach your height better, aiding your descent into enchanted madness as he gets closer. You take his hand and introduce yourself- GOD Lucy was right. His grasp is light, comforting. Where Father Gala made you feel stuck in his eternal cage, Father Pike sets you free. You fall into a stupor fantasizing about what his hugs must feel like.

He smells like cinnamon. It could be from the pie you suspect he ate, from the apple undertones you detect, but you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s just how he naturally smelled. A warm, cozy, inviting dream; he sure looked like one, at least. 

His gaze lingers on your expression frozen with intrigue before he turns and welcomes Lucy. They begin a polite banter that allows you to stand back and try to quell your blood that throbs with nerve. If you had known someone like Father Pike was going to be here, you would’ve dressed in something nicer, possibly sexy - the modesty expected in a place of worship be damned. You curse yourself for choosing these well-worn jeans and roomy sweater over the opaque tights and a dress of an acceptable length you were going back and forth on in your mirror earlier. But, in an odd sort of way, you still felt exposed in front of Father Pike from underneath all your thick layers. You couldn’t hide yourself from him, no matter how many clothes you armored yourself with. 

He turns back to you, and he doesn’t ogle your nervous body, or try desperately not to; he looks into your eyes with a soft smile that crinkles the skin around those big brown puddles. It makes your chest feel like it has a big, gaping cavity that you could look inside of and see your heart thumping hard, vulnerable blood spilling from all your edges and trickling down your legs. The flustered emotions of a blooming crush rapidly morph into something malicious and parasitic, causing you to put the back of your hand to your forehead that has broken out in clamminess. It’s hard to hear Father Pike over the rushing buzz in your head when he speaks to you.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, are you new?” 

And just like that, your knees start trembling beneath you. Your heart misses a beat, causing your lungs to seize in anger and you suck in a harsh breath. In a flash, Father Pike’s friendliness snaps into genuine concern and he steps forward, taking your elbows and catching you on your way to the floor. You make a startled sound and his timbre slashes through your panic, “Let’s get you sat down somewhere, okay?” 

You can barely muster a nod, tears threatening to spill over your eyes and join the rivulets of sweat on your cheeks. Father Pike more or less carries you by your middle as you pathetically cling to his arms, dragging your debilitated form a short distance to a secluded, abandoned pew by the door he entered from earlier in the evening. Father Pike sits you down and takes the place right beside you, putting his left arm around your shoulders and his right hand in yours. As soon as you’re grounded on the unforgiving wood, your vision stops spinning, even though you didn’t realize it had started. Breathing suddenly feels easy again, returning to its involuntary glory instead of being laborious. It’s like your body resumed its regularly scheduled programming with an invisible snap. 

Away from the hub of the crowd, his voice seems louder, its velveteen quality more clear, “You alright?” 

You take a precautionary, steadying breath before meeting his eyes, fearful that something in him will set off all your alarms again. But when you meet his eyes, everything is serene. “Y-yeah, I’m okay.”

A pause to verify your sincerity, and then he chuckles, trying to uplift the atmosphere with a lighthearted tone, “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just…”

You laugh, as much as you can muster in your breathless state, “No, no, you didn’t!” He retracts his hand from yours slowly and you instinctively grasp his forearm with a reassuring touch. Once you notice what you’re doing, you let go of him with an embarrassment like he’s burning you. “I- I don’t really know what happened, all of the sudden I just felt… sick.” With your confession, a wave of nausea infiltrates your stomach and makes you feel a little queasy again. It’s climbing to its previous intensity quickly. The fossilized church feels like it could cave in on you at any moment. 

Father Pike touches your shoulder softly, “I’m going to go get you some water, okay?” You nod and the waning gleam in your eye sends him swiftly disappearing into the crowd. 

A decent number of paces away, an older woman looks at you with fear as Lucy speaks to her, no doubt explaining your abrupt qualm. Drawing any more attention than you already have will just worsen your panic, so you thwart the drama. You raise your hand at her with a thin-lipped smile to deter her worry and she places her hand over her heart with a happy sigh before walking away.

Father Pike reappears behind Lucy and drifts by her with your drink clutched tight in his hand. Lucy’s eyes flit from the priest’s chivalry to your shy, measly form and she raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth with a scoffing smile. You could read your best friend’s face better than written word: she thinks that you’re doing this on purpose to get the Father’s attention. 

You wish you could say you were reeling him in with salacious spite, however, you were anything but. Your illness was true and unforgiving. You shake your head at her in defiance, but you can tell she doesn’t buy it. She turns away to busy herself with the rest of the party, but really she’s intending to give the two of you some privacy from the wink thrown over her shoulder. With a roll of your eyes, you think about how you’ll have to defend yourself with a foolproof case under her gavel later tonight. 

Father Pike retakes his seat next to you, handing you the bottle of water, unopened, that your puny fingers struggle with. Kindly, he offers his hand and you pass over the bottle for him to open. He hands it back to you and sits hunched over his lap, hands clasped between his open legs, staring at you intently as you take a few slow sips. You feel a little awkward, looking down at the bottle in your hands and fidgeting with the wrapper on the outside, so you take a note from his book and try to lighten the mood, “I knew I wasn’t a big fan of parties, but I didn’t know I was this bad.” You chuckle dryly, risking a glance at him. It works: he’s laughing with you. 

“I’m not a big party person, either,” he smiles, his dimple creasing within his beard. You raise an eyebrow at him, a little befuddled by his statement, given he inserts himself into the lives of others for a living. He takes your hint, “I enjoy talking to people, giving sermons and all of that… but even this feels a little overwhelming for me.” You nod, finding comfort in the fact that you’re on the same page. He keeps that endearing smile with a measuring eye as he continues watching you, looking from the crease of your brow to how your legs squirm uncomfortably. 

There’s something about this man that makes you feel… transparent. Like how you felt exposed to him earlier, even underneath all your coarsely knitted layers. You feel like a fraud, sitting next to one of the holiest figures in the entire congregation. And for some reason, out of all of the people here, you feel that he deserves the truth. There’s nothing about him that has given you any indication that he won’t turn on you like the rest would if you confess to your disguise, but at the same time… he makes you feel safe. Of course, he just recovered you from some undisclosed blight, but you can write that off as convenience. You were sick, he was right there, certainly he would’ve tended to you. There must be some moral code within the priesthood to never let a sick person lie. But even before that, putting aside his obvious handsomeness, there was something in his eyes that held you. Let you know that it was all okay. You decide to ply him with honesty. 

“Um… so, I’m not very religious. Like, at all.” Your voice is a little shaky, worried if his nice-guy facade will finally melt away to reveal a sneering orthodox. He doesn’t seem to have a reaction, so you keep going. 

“So, if I’m not religious, and I’m drinking this, does that mean…” You trail off in question, and he doesn’t understand what you’re getting at. 

“It’s holy, right?” You raise the water. 

Father Pike looks like he can’t believe what you just asked. He shakes his head in amusement, void of condescension, leaning the slightest bit closer towards you. He lowers his voice slightly, protecting you from any invasive ears. He softly explains, “Just because it’s water in a church doesn’t mean it’s holy. A priest or some other figure has to bless it.” His smirk deepens at your visible relief, “You’re not sinning, or anything near it. You’re perfect.” 

He said you’re… what? Your heart skips again but this time it’s not from sickness. Well... is it sick to be attracted to someone who is virtually untouchable? You get to thinking; you know enough about the church and its inner workings to know that priests usually take a vow of celibacy. Consequently, most never date or get married. Does that mean… are they barred from all things sensual? Are they allowed to tenderly brush their fingers against someone else’s, and not for the purpose of prayer? Can they share a glance that lingers a little too long for it to be considered chaste? Can they… can they even think about anything remotely sexual? 

There’s no way that can be true. You can understand physical celibacy, sure, but it’s impossible for one not to have a thought that makes them quiver at least once in their life. In your own experience, sensuality sometimes has nothing to do with sex. You’ve felt the warmth of eroticism lying under the sun’s rays in the middle of spring, savoring a delicious meal, when you finish a book with a satisfying conclusion. If Father Pike starves himself of such pleasures, you can’t fight the pity that chokes you. 

“What if they have priests at the packaging plant?” You joke, hoping to simultaneously break the silence that has swelled between you two and put a wedge in your brain’s cogs so they’ll stop churning. 

Father Pike laughs, genuinely from his belly, and oh you could get used to that sound. His eyes crinkle at their corners with a grin, “Then the church would be thrilled at our outreach.” 

You go to take another sip of your water, but his hand comes out to touch yours. The impossible delicacy almost makes you flinch. He puts gentle pressure on your skin, making you stop in your tracks. He shifts closer to you, his voice dropping an octave, warning you, “I’d be careful though; there is a possibility that you could grow rotted fangs and hairy feet, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Your fluttering nerves make your laugh squeak out of your tightened throat, louder than you intended, in a bark. Slightly mortified, you hide your smile behind the hand that isn’t suspended in the air by Father Pike. With mercy, he releases you. 

“What about a rat’s tail?” You ask with a teasing glint in your eye. 

He ponders for a moment, comically deep in thought. “That only affects the most sinful of us,” he reveals. 

...What? That was flirty, right? It had to be flirty. There’s no way he didn’t mean it to be flirty. Your imagination can be very active at times, but there was no mistaking the twitch of his mustache to repress a smirk. 

Trying to ignore the furious heat that has instantaneously kindled between your thighs based on that singular tone change, you latch the bottle to your mouth and avert your eyes elsewhere. Out of your periphery, you think you see Father Pike’s shoulders droop and his gaze lower to the ground with a silent huff. Shit, did he take your silence as a blow to his humor? 

You can’t think too much now because the clocks outside in the streets resound ten chimes. Lucy appears and her beaming at the two of you seems to rejuvenate Father Pike a little. He straightens his back before he stands and they begin talking, shaking hands. Their mouths spew unintelligible babble to you as your entire nervous system is locked on one thing: Father Pike’s back. His gorgeous personality had swept you up and away into a cloud of bubbly giggles and blushing cheeks that you hadn’t noticed what he was wearing. Maybe if the robes had made a greater impression on you, they would’ve served as a reminder to restrain yourself from dreaming about the forbidden, but alas. 

Father Pike is dressed identically to the other priests: black clerical shirt, cassock, pants, and shoes, and a white tab collar. But he wears everything so much better. The garments are majorly obscured by the enveloping cassock, but even the thick, flowing fabric can’t hide the broad width of his shoulders. When he gestures with his hands, you can see the muscles move dreamily in reaction by the flickering candlelight. He’s tall, and this fact is only emphasized as you continue to sit motionless on the pew watching him and Lucy. 

When he turns with a hand outstretched to help you to your feet, you bite your lip with ravenous desire. Somehow you didn’t notice - probably because you were too enthralled with everything else about him - how his Adam’s apple sits on glorious display with the white tab collar as its pedestal. The tempting image makes you swallow hard. God, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. 

“Time to get going,” Lucy says, motioning from behind the Father’s back for you to take his hand. You do and stand, drifting to the front of the church on autopilot. It feels like the calm quiet of your time with Father Pike and the chummy, sociable atmosphere of the dinner has dissipated and a sense of urgency has taken root. The friendliness remains in the goodbyes and promises of meeting again you hear all around you, but you’re definitely being ushered out with the rest of the herd. You guess, remembering a tidbit about religious folk, that they have a curfew. 

It feels like you’re being ripped away from Father Pike and you don’t like that. Although you’ve only known him for all but two hours - which sounds ridiculous when you put it like that - you’re desperate to know more. You’d find genuine, complete contentedness in simply watching him go about his daily activities. Recording what details he decides to give you privy to and admiring his boundaries when he reserves himself. He’s the first possibility of a new friend in this conservative township and you don’t want to let him go. 

You’re grateful that he ghosts your back as Lucy leads you to the entrance, it gives you comfort and makes this dream last as long as it can. You don’t sense just how close he’s following behind you until you get to the heavy front doors and the toe of his shoe snags on the heel of yours. It makes you trip and fumble forward, but Father Pike reaches to catch you. His hands grip your waist, molding your oversized sweater to your body. Then, he gently steadies and pulls you back upright. The foreign sensation of your flattened heel tickles your foot and sends you stumbling back into his chest. He looks down at you, his hands still on you, “I-I apologize.”

Through the darkness you see the tips of his ears glow red. Before you can say anything in return, he renders you speechless by getting on his knees. Without a word spoken, moving in tandem with implicit choreography, you lift your foot up so he can fix the heel back into place. He doesn’t give you the choice of wobbling on your lonesome, placing one of your hands on his right shoulder to keep you balanced. And god, you wish he hadn’t done that. 

Your lips part as your breaths gain some weight, but you snap your oblong mouth shut when you hear an ancient, warbly voice. “Oh, no, what have we here?” Father Gala teeters over just as Father Pike finishes retying your shoe. Imperceptibly, you squeeze his shoulder in reverence as he stands up and then you let your hand fall innocently to your side. 

You shrug, giggling a little uncomfortably, “Father Pike stepped on the back of my shoe, it was an accident.” 

“Young and clumsy,” Father Gala jokes, you think, with a grumbly tone. He claps a hand on Father Pike’s left shoulder with more effort than you thought the old man could muster. As Father Pike steadies the elder priest’s cane, you reason he more so fell into Father Pike than anything else. Your favored Father chuckles with accountability. 

Father Gala passes off his cane for a moment to take your hand in his two, like he did when he gave you the dinner plate earlier this evening. Clearly the party has tired him out; his hands are quivering and his back is permanently bent at an angle. “Peace be with you,” he croaks with cheerfulness, despite his withered voice. 

You freeze. You know you’re supposed to say something back to complete this exchange and from the innermost depths of your brain you think it should be a simple phrase, something that any ardent Christian would remember. Between your disinterest in the church and the Father Pike fog that has eclipsed your mind, you’re dumbfounded.

An angel appears in your midst and comes to your rescue: Father Pike, peering into your eyes over the shoulder of the crouched figure before you, mouths the words silently, “And also with you.” 

“And also with you,” you recite amicably. Father Gala smiles, pats your hand twice in delight and turns to give Lucy the same departing sentiment. You release the air of worry you held inside and take a few steps to meet Father Pike, whispering close by his side so only he will hear, “Thank you.” 

The handsome Father closes your height difference by leaning down and pretends to brush some invisible dust off of your shoulder, an excuse to be this close to you. 

“Don’t mention it. Your secret’s safe with me,” he murmurs. 

And you trust him to keep his promise. Sure, he could go behind your back and spill your lies to the other priests, the entire community, let them know that there’s a rat infiltrating their congregation. 

The mischievous sparkle in his gaze as he looks at down you, biting your lip to suppress your giggle and keep your little inside secret just that, tells you he won’t let one word slip. 

Father Gala has returned for his cane, so Father Pike clears his throat and stiffens himself. Clasping his hands together, he builds an appropriate distance between the two of you before anyone sees it was anything otherwise. 

The night winds have picked up, biting at bits of exposed skin with a malevolent appetite. To shield the older priest, Father Pike guides him back into the cathedral. “I hope to see you two back soon,” the handsome Father interjects as you’re turning to leave. 

“We’ll be here Sunday!” Lucy shouts over an unnatural gust that howls and warbles her voice. With one arm over each other’s shoulders, holding tight together, you begin the trek back to her house to take refuge for the night. Behind you, you hear the cathedral doors shut, sealing you off from a final parting glance to Father Pike. You aren’t too disheartened by that and the cold can’t gnaw at your heart, either; Sunday is only two days away and you can’t contain your excitement. 

—— 

The whole night has felt like a whirlwind. To your complete and utter surprise, visiting the church is no longer seems like it’ll be a chore, but rather an opportunity. For what, you’re not exactly sure just yet. But you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks and skirting down your spine at the infinite possibilities. Maybe you should start praying for your salvation now.

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[oogaboogasphincter]

thinking thots about this adorably naughty professor today 🤭📚🤎

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

Keep reading

[qveerthe0ry]

Your Ride, Best Trip

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

Marcus Pike is perfect. 

He’s your dream man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he finally kissed you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart—”

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

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

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

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

But it’s fine. He’s so worth it. 

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

“What do you want?” 

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

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

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

“You’re lying.” 

You sigh and close your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

“I have a small dick.” 

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

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

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

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

“Marcus…”

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

“Marcus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyone?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

You scoff. 

“Really really.”

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

“Why?”

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

His face flushes, but he lets you continue.

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

“Me too,” he whispers.

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah… For one, your hands.”

“My hands?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And I love to give head.”

“Jesus.”

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

“Sweetheart—”

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

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

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

“You’re not lying.”

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to show you, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marcus—”

“I know, I know.”

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

“Can I?”

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

“Oh, are you that sensitive?”

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

“It’s just you.” 

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

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

“So sweet, huh?”

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

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

“That’s all for me?” 

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

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

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

“Can I take these off, sweetheart?” 

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

“Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

“You sure you’re ready?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re soaked.” 

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

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

Oh, he’s fucking good at this. 

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

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

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

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

“You have no idea.”

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

“I think I do,” he mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it. This what you needed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huff. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So… How’d it compare?” 

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Better,” you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you let me suck it?” 

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

“Please.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His little cock. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh fuck, are you touching yourself?”

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

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

He says your name. 

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

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

“Sweetheart, stop, please.”

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

“Are you okay?”

He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face. 

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

“Marcus.” 

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

“Do you want to fuck me?” 

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

“I— Yeah. Yes. I do.”

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

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

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

“Yeah? You still want it?” 

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

“Please, Marcus. Give it to me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

He’s so hot. 

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

“Please,” you whisper. 

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

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

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

“Are you ready?”

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

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

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

“Oh fuck.”

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

“Fuck, Marcus, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you warn him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s screaming. 

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

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

“In me.”

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

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

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

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

“Jesus,” he says.

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

“Huh?” 

God, how are you ever going to move again? 

“You uh… Is that a common occurrence?”

Christ, why is he using such big words? 

“What are you talking about?” 

He clears his throat. 

“You like— You squirted?”

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

“I what?”

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

“Yeah, like, a lot.”

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

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

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

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

“What?” 

“Why do you seem so surprised?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he whispers. 

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

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

Both of your breathing seems even, when you part. 

“That was—”

“It’s never—”

You both chuckle. 

“Ladies first.”

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

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

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

“It’s never been that good.”

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

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

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

“When can we go again?”

[baronessvonglitter]

Summer's almost over, and since I've been officially posting on tumblr since June, I'm going to start compiling fic recs on a seasonal basis, so naturally we're starting with summer.

I realize some of these fics are older, and some are even out of season ("Boo" takes place on Halloween) but this is my blog and I'm not gonna hold myself to too many standards 😜

Honestly, everything I reblog is an automatic "fic rec". The ones below are my particular favorites of this past summer 🌅

Abducted ~ Joel Miller x f!reader ~ by @propheticbride

Boo ~ Joel Miller x f!reader ~ by @pascalsbby

Brat! ~ Joel Miller x brat!female!reader ~ by @shellshocklove

Caught in the Act ~ pre-outbreak Joel Miller x roommate!fem!reader ~ by @mermaidgirl30

Cuts Like Glass ~ Dave York x f!reader ~ by @morallyinept

Dinner and a Show ~ Joel Miller x Roman Roy x f!reader ~ by @strang3lov3

Doctor's Pet ~ doctor!Dave York x nurse!reader ~ by @evolnoomym

Heavenly Bound ~ Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!virgin!reader ~ by @ozarkthedog

I Can Bring You in Hot ~ Din Djarin x Maxwell Lord ~ by @ghostofaboy

In the shadows of others, we grow (series) ~ Tim Rockford x Dave York ~ by @sin-djarin

Just Like That (series) ~ dark!perv!stepdad!Joel Miller x fem!reader ~ by @sweetpascal

My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder ~ Javier Pena x reader ~ by @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

The Nebble Files (series) ~ Tim Rockford x OFC Jane Nebble ~ by @inept-the-magnificent

Please, Sir ~ Marcus Pike x female!reader ~ by @mountainsandmayhem

The Police Officer ~ uniformed!Joel Miller x f!reader ~ by @myownwholewildworld

Privates ~ AU!Joel Miller x Javier Pena x afab!reader ~ by @eff4freddie

Push It ~ Joel Miller x fem!reader ~ by @milla-frenchy

Put it in, Coach ~ Joel Miller x f!reader ~ by @magpiepills

The Rift (series) ~ Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!reader ~ by @whataperfectwasteoftime

Savior ~ dark!Joel x captive!reader ~ by @lokischocolatefountain

Strawberry Sugar ~ modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader ~ by @guiltyasdave

Sweet Tooth ~ mom's bf!Javier Pena x f!reader ~ by @magpiepills

Table for Three ~ Joel Miller x f x Dave York ~ by @aurorawritestoescape

Untitled Joel Miller x f!reader ~ by @joelslastofus

Untitled Marcus Acacius x f!reader ~ by @joelslastofus

Volatile ~ Dave York x f!reader ~ by @javier-pena

The Wedding Night ~ Marcus Acacius x female!reader ~ by @ienjoywritingfilth

Wildest Dreams (series) ~ Dave York x f!reader ~ by @guiltyasdave

[pascalpvnk]

february fic recs list

hello! welcome to the third installment of my end of the month fic recs posts, sorry it's late, my bad :') listed in no particular order, just as each fic was read! [once again, if your fic has found a cozy home on my tbr blog, don't fret! i will work through each one slowly but surely xx (divider by @saradika-graphics)

heed all warnings according to each fic. if there's something on here that isn't your cup of tea and you don't want to read it, then scroll past. thank you!

HOW TO SUPPORT PALESTINE // IMPORTANT FOR TLOU READERS & WRITERS

fic recs masterlist // main masterlist // most recent fic

a * denotes smut (18+ MDNI!!)

oneshots

Joel Miller

keep it squeaky* - @joelscruff (j.m. x f!reader) in a feud with her neighbor* [bonus scenes] - @proxima-writes (pre-outbreak!j.m. x f!reader) morning cardio* - @joeloverture (dbf!j.m. x f!reader) mornings like these* - @joelsgreys (post-outbreak!j.m. x f!reader) psyche and cupid* - @macfrog (jackson!j.m. x f!reader) jet stream* - @strang3lov3 (soft dom!j.m. x f!afab!reader) it''s your turn for choosing - @familyvideostevie (j.m. x reader) hard pill to swallow.* - @cerridwen007 (j.m. x f!reader) unbelievable* - @joelmillerisapunk (mechanic!j.m. x f!reader) fade in to you - @studioghibelli (j.m. x tommy's gf!reader) nobody's son, nobody's daughter. - @fragilefable (j.m x f!reader) tell me more - @endlessthxxghts (j.m. x f!afab!reader) wildflowers - @tightjeansjavi (j.m. x f!reader)

Frankie Morales

liquid gold* - @endlessthxxghts (f.m. x afab!reader) something right* - @sweetercalypso (f.m. x afab!reader) full* - @endlessthxxghts (f.m. x afab!reader) stupid cupid - @hellishjoel (best friend!f.m. x f!reader) comfortable* - @endlessthxxghts (f.m. x afab!reader) perfect fit* - @lowlights (f.m. x plus-size!f!reader) plus one - @always-andromeda (f.m. x f!reader) valentine's day* - @polaroidpascal (f.m. x f!reader)

Misc.

tres besos - @mrsmando (javier peña x f!reader) solo round* [dating start!] - @futureman (josh futturman x f!reader) keep it* - @jksprincess10 (marcus pike x f!reader)

series

hippies & cowboys* - @cowgurrrl (joel miller x art teacher!reader) ongoing the rite of movement* - @tightjeansjavi (husband!pornstar!joel miller x f!pornstar reader x pornstar!tommy miller) ongoing bark! bite! bleed! [part I*] [part II*] - @cherubispunk (fwb!frankie morales x afab!reader) ongoing

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It (Peña x f!Reader x Pike) Series Masterlist

Series Summary: (Javier Peña x fem/afab!Reader x Marcus Pike) You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left.

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Series Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Pike x f!reader), future Javi x Reader x Marcus (MFM/FMM dynamics), masturbation (m & f), fantasizing, Dom/sub dynamics, praise kink, workplace romance, initial slowburn (Javi x f!reader), so much yearning, additional chapter-specific warnings.

Chapter 1: The Javier Peña comes to you for help on a case.

Chapter 2: You’re reviewing the case file Javi gave you when a memory of your last night in D.C. distracts you.

Chapter 3: After a bit of a brainstorm, you decide it’s finally time to call Marcus and get his opinion (he always has the right words). Javi has opinions of his own on the matter.

Chapter 4: Marcus is still reeling from your phone call and can’t stop thinking about the last time he saw you. Peña is ready to get things moving.

Chapter 5: Peña has done more than you expected by making you the Customs Agent in Charge, and you’re already starting to feel the pressure. While preparing to give your first official brief, you reach out once again to Marcus for reassurance. The call leads you down memory lane to the last conversation you had with Marcus face to face.

Complete Evidence Locker Flashback This is the complete flashback, which was originally pieced out across chapters 2, 4, and 5.

Chapter 6: Javier meets you at the office the next day to help you with the big briefing, then shows you a different side of Houston.

Chapter 7: The case is progressing more quickly than expected, presenting the first opportunity to set the bait for the narcos. When plans for the undercover operation go awry, you have to think and act fast. Meanwhile, whatever is going on between you and Javi gets kicked into high gear.

WIP Wednesday post with a lil' sneak peak of Chapter 8!

Chapter 8 Before going any further, you set some ground rules with Javi. Then it's fucking game on.

Chapter 9 (NEW! Posted 4/5) Flashback: All rules go out the window the first time you and Marcus are truly alone.

Chapter 10 - Coming Soon!

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

I’m participating in Kinktober 2023 this year using this list by @flightlessangelwings​ . If you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on this post or send in an ask.

Day One - Frank Castle x Reader

Warnings: Overstimulation ; impact play; fingering; nipple play; dirty talk—praise and degradation

Day Two - Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Public sex (car sex); role playing; blowjob; cum play; fingering

Day Three - Diego Jimenez x Reader

Warnings: Reader is the monster; vampirism; mention of drug use; mention of alcohol consumption; blood drinking (because vampires); vaginal sex

Day Four - Santiago Garcia x Reader

Warnings: Public sex; sex pollen; rough sex; unprotected sex; creampie; hair pulling

Day Five - Jax Teller x Reader

Warnings: Table sex/desk sex; enemies to enemies who fuck; vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Day Six - Josh Lyman x Reader

Warnings: Lots of dialogue!!; phone sex; power imbalance; dirty talk; praise kink; masturbation

Day Seven - Matt Murdock x Reader

Warnings: Morning sex; fingering; oral sex; safe sex; vaginal sex

Day Eight - Rafael Barba x Reader

Warnings: Cockwarming; restraints; spanking; impact play; Dom/Brat dynamics; choking; rough sex; oral sex; vaginal sex; cum shot; cum play

Day Nine - Nathan Bateman x Reader

Warnings: Rimming; fingering; masturbation; pegging; blowjobs; cunnilingus; praise kink

Day Ten - Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: Stripping; car sex; clothed man/partially clothed woman; grinding

Day Eleven - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Blindfolding; hide-and-seek/prey-play adjacent; blowjob; cunnilingus; vaginal sex; unsafe sex; creampie

Day Twelve - Will Miller x Reader

Warnings: Established relationship; fluff; formal wear; oral sex; safe sex

Day Thirteen - Jim Kirk x Reader

Warnings: Anonymous sex; public sex; oral sex; spit as lube; safe sex

Day Fourteen - Oberyn Martell x Reader

Warnings: Prostitution/sex work; canon-typical sex work; dirty talk; sub Oberyn Martell; hair pulling; restraints; orgasm control/denial; masturbation; breeding kink; oral sex; gag use; unsafe sex; creampie

Day Fifteen - Duke Leto Atreides x Reader

Warnings: Free use; semi-public sex; oral sex; fingering; unsafe sex; creampie

Day Sixteen - Indiana Jones x Reader

Warnings: Role reversal; period-typical attitudes toward sex; vaginal sex; riding unsafe sex; creampie

Day Seventeen - Ben Miller x Reader

Warnings: Praise kink; dirty talk; blowjob; fingering; grinding; semi-public sex

Day Eighteen - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Masturbation; mutual masturbation; fingering; handjob; vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Day Nineteen - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Somnophilia; Bradley 'I Eat Pussy for My Own Pleasure' Bradshaw; anal sex; anal plug; safe sex; vaginal fingering

Day Twenty - Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader

Warnings: Sex toys; fingering; blowjobs

Day Twenty-One - Harvey Specter x Reader

Warnings: Hate sex; oral sex; semi-public sex; table sex; spit as lube; safe sex; negotiating tactics that would get you disbarred

Day Twenty-Two - Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Reader is an older virgin; fingering; oral sex; loss of virginity; vaginal sex; safe sex

Day Twenty-Three - Jonathan Levy x Reader

Warnings: Dirty talk; vaginal sex; cunnilingus; fingering; unsafe sex; creampie; breeding kink

Day Twenty-Four - James Bond x Reader

Warnings: Exes; domineering James Bond; fingering; choking; hate sex; mostly naked woman, clothed man

Day Twenty-Five - Shiv Roy x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Infidelity; mentions of previous adolescent antics; mirror sex; oral sex; fingering; grinding; semi-public sex

Day Twenty-Six - SithMaster!Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Sith Master!Obi-Wan; Sith Apprentice!Reader; Power imbalance; Force-choking; deep throating; grinding; masturbation; choking (without the Force); degradation

Day Twenty-Seven - Christopher Pike x Reader

Warnings: Fluff; yearning; kitchen sex; vaginal sex; improper use of buttercream

Day Twenty-Eight - Andromache of Scythia (The Old Guard) x Reader

Warnings: Intercrural Sex/grinding; nipple play; fighting; light degradation

Day Twenty-Nine - Don Draper x Reader

Warnings: Semi-public sex; fingering; vaginal sex; unsafe sex; creampie; gagging with clothing

Day Thirty - Jake 'Hangman' Sersin x Reader

Warnings: Oral sex/cunnilingus; face sitting; Jake 'I Get Hard When I Eat Pussy’ Seresin

Day Thirty- One - A Thank You :)

[grogusmum]

Hazel's Thro-Back Thursday Fic Recs

Welp, We are still dealing with the bullshit from the past weeks, but so many in the fandom are doing such wonderful things to not only cheer people up but inject genuine positivity into our little corner of the tumblrsphere.

(To those who don't have the emotional bandwidth to make some big gesture with a game, challenge, or whatever, know we've got you. Your everyday kindness and lack of muck-throwing are always enough!! If you are thinking of deactivating, obviously, we will support whatever you need, but talk to a friend first because we love you and would hate to lose you. I assume I'm not the only one here, but... I WORRY, and want to know you are okay!)

Shout out to @morallyinept, who is back and is slowly reposting her fantastic marsterlists of fic! One of the things that stops me from deactivating when I am down is everyone's lovely comments on my fics- not only do I reread them when I am down, but I would hate to lose them. Again, I assume I am not alone in this, so even if you think Jett knows what I think about this or that fic, be sure to go to them when they are back on tumblr and give them some love. I will definitely be featuring them on thro-back Thursdays!

Anyway, I'll stop yammering and get on the fic recs!

we've got a new writer @sunshinehaze1 putting herself out there with Sunday Spotted (Dieter Bravo)

Home Is Wherever I'm With You by @saradika recced by @whataenginerd who says:

This series has wormed its way into my heart and I’m so happy for that. The imagery and descriptions are amazing and the dialogue feels so so Din

@kilamonster recced @peepawispunk 's Interagency Collaboration Javier Peña x f!Reader x Marcus Pike and Rumor Has It by @senorabond (Javier Peña x fem/afab!Reader x Marcus Pike)

Marcus is getting around, huh? Your loss, Theresa!

And now for a couple of my own reccs!

Arms Wide Open by @newpathwrites (Din Djarin x f!Reader) I've got more to read in the series, and I can't wait. I just, FLUSTERED DIN IS A VERY GOOD DIN, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU!

10 Questions (More or Less) by @inherstars (Ezra and Cee) Honestly I just don't want to give anything away. Stars, here, has captured the voices or Ezra and Cee so handily and pick up seamlessly from the end of the film. This is beautiful.

[pedroshotwifey]

A Real Man Frankie Morales x plus size!fem!reader - Frankie has you sit on his face. (1.2k)

Fucking Mine Dave York x fem!reader - You help Dave get out some frustrations. (839)

One Condition Marcus Pike x fem!reader x Ezra (Prospect) - You and your partner, Marcus Pike, get stranded on an inhabited planet and run into problem after problem. You find yourselves in a compromising position that requires help from a strange man, who comes to you with one condition. (4.9k)

Cramped Innocent!Din Djarin x GN!reader - As you tried to explain, the two of you really don't fit in the cockpit. (927)

Bargian Javier Peña x male!reader - You and Javi play through one of your scandalous fantasies (2.1k)

Salty Sweet Javier Peña x fem!reader - Javi eats you out on your birthday---with a deliciously kinky twist (1.3k)

Better Ezra x f!reader - You join Ezra on his unscheduled break, not knowing you're in for the ride of your lifetime. (2k)

Good 'n' Deep Fat!Frankie Morales x f!reader - Fat Frankie can't be sated. (2.6k)

What Matters Older Joel Miller x f!reader - Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more. (1.9k)

Needy Sub!Frankie Morales x dom!f!reader - Frankie gives you control for the night and you make sure he gets the most out of it. (1.6k)

Tease Sub!Dieter Bravo x sub!GN!reader x dom!Dave York - You and Dieter think it's fun to tease Dave, and Dave thinks he should teach you both a lesson for it. (2.4k)

Toeing the Line fwb!Marcus Pike x f!reader - Can you really just be "friends"? (740)

Stress Relief Pre-outbreak Joel Miller jacking off to some porn

Mini Skirt Javier Peña x fem!coworker!reader - You start thinking down on yourself---luckily, Javi's there to lift you back up. Nothing some praise and a good fuck in his office can't fix. (2.7k)

The Right Guy X-Men!Logan x f!reader - Logan tries too hard on a first date (mostly cute fluff with a smudge of angst kind of) (1.1k)

Song fic requests:

Haunted QZ!Joel Miller x afab!reader - Haunted by Beyonce

Taste Ex!Javi x reader - Taste by Sabrina Carpenter

Requested Drabbles

Want some help on what to request? Try one of these links! (Make sure to specify which prompt list you’re using or I will assume it’s prompt list 1 :)

Prompt list 1

Prompt list 2

Prompt list 3

Prompt list 4

I am also willing to write for JDM characters (love me some Negan 🤭) , Oscar Isaac characters, Cassian Andor, Hugh Jackman characters (Logan is my fav) and Rick Grimes! Feel free to suggest a different character and I’ll see what I can do! ❤️

Small letter about the requests (basically saying that this is a safe space for all of you to request whatever you'd like!)

[oogaboogasphincter]

Deceits of the Devil (priest!marcus pike x f!reader) | series masterlist

status: ongoing!!

pairing: priest!marcus pike x f!reader

series rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MDNI!

series summary: when you find love in a priest, a litany of spooky events begin to follow you that can only be described as a haunting. is it your own guilty conscience that disturbs you... or could it be something else?

series warnings (each chapter will have a warnings section specific to its individual contents): reader uses she/her pronouns and is incredibly non-religious, SLOW BURN TABOO RELATIONSHIP BABYYY, lots of religious/spiritual talk, horror elements and general spookiness

want to be notified when new chapters are posted? join my taglist!

chapter 1: the high priestess

chapter 2: the magician

chapter 3: strength - coming soon

[osped]

JOSE PEDRO BALMACEDA PASCAL

HIS CHARACTERS

🌟 Good Morning, Bachelor Nation! 🌟 by @elvinaa

You have a big ass by @pedros-husband

How about 7 Pedros for a minute each? by @oonajaeadira

scary movie typa guy ; genre of movies pedro boys are into by @creedslove

Having Triplets: by @absurdthirst

PEDRO PASCAL

reader calls, telling him they had to go to the emergency room by @judysxnd

he hated the feeling or thought of reader ever leaving ; protective pedro ; blind date ; comforts him ; none of that really matters ; him just loving being a girl dad ; pedro x sick!reader ; whole pregnancy by @talaok (at this point I sould've just put her masterlist link here, lol)

it's not that kind of cold shower (pedro x gn/m!reader) ; 🎯MASTERLIST🎯pedro pascal x gn/m!reader by @pedge-stuff

PERO TOVAR

Pero Tovar and his Guerrera by @prolix-yuy

friend sets Pedro and (y/n) on a blind date by @talaok

take my hand - pero tovar x fem!reader by @pedrito-friskito

Temple of Love ; Grumpy Pumpkin by @sirowsky-stories

OBERYN MARTELL

Window Shopping by @the-dendrophile-bookdragon

Birfday - Oberyn by @writeforfandoms

MARCUS PIKE

I’m Here by @davnittbraes

Forgive These Bones I'm Hiding (Part 2 of 2) by @whataperfectwasteoftime

JAVIER PENA

I know that I shouldn't... but I love you. by @odetodilfs

Nᴏᴛ Iɴᴛᴏ Bᴏʏs (Jᴀᴠɪᴇʀ Pᴇñᴀ) by @obsessedwithpedritoofc

Crossroads (Javier Peña x AFAB!Reader) ; Narcos Masterlist by @ithebookhoarder 

wait, what? by @plentyoffandoms

Trick and Treat by @jobean12-blog

tolerate it [javi peña x gn!reader] by @mandoalorian

quickie at the party ; LA LLUVIA 🌧️ by @creedslove

JOEL MILLER

the sun will shine again by @foli-vora

loads of hickeys by @talaok

doing a million steps nightly skin care routine ; The Millers 💖 by @creedslove

Joel Miller Masterlist by @jobean12-blog

sated by @softlyspector

Feral Masterlist by @ohraicodoll

"a gentle hand" — joel miller by @louswrld11

All Good Things [a Joel x f!reader fic] by @criticallyacclaimedstranger

a sheep in wolf's clothing by @jupiter-soups

Halloween Special by @strang3lov3

I wanna show you off by @joelscurls

crying for the first time ever by @joels-shitty-puns

grumpy!husband!joel by @cruelfvkingsummer

JAVI GUTIERREZ

Skinny Dipping by @second-axis-point

Kinktober Day 13: Javi Gutiérrez w/overstimulation and bondage. by @odetodilfs

DIN DJARIN

In The Silence by @dindjarindiaries

D.D. - "Then we'll find out together." by @missredherring

Uncut by @beskarandblasters

the cantina by @spctrsgf

trying boba tea for the first time by @toxic-seduction

50. Nothing is wrong with you. 55. I’m not going anywhere. ; Soft!Din by @ezrasbirdie

Familiar & Unfamiliar by @theidiotwhowritesthings

DIETER BRAVO

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #10: Dieter Bravo - A Kiss While Baking by @something-tofightfor

DAVE YORK

Surrogate Love {Dave York x F!Reader} by @absurdthirst

FRANKIE MORALES

Broken by @musings-of-a-rose

sweet treat (frankie morales x f!plus-size!reader) by @mrsmando

Kɪʟʟ ғᴏʀ Yᴏᴜ (Fʀᴀɴᴋɪᴇ Mᴏʀᴀʟᴇs) by @obsessedwithpedritoofc

Telltale Heart by @astroboots

fading ; something new [plus size fem reader] by @ezrasbirdie

MARCUS PIKE

pretending to be him ; RE-ENCOUNTER 🎨 by @creedslove

used by you by @foli-vora 

SILVA

Tʜᴇ Oᴛʜᴇʀ Mᴀɴ (Sɪʟᴠᴀ) by @obsessedwithpedritoofc

PS : I reblog all this amazing fanfic on my other tumblr account on @uwiuwi. I just like to reread, but it got me so stressfull when my main blog so full with reblogs, so I make this masterlist for my future self. I hope none of the authors of the fanfics I put in here mad. Sorry and Thank you for your hardwork guys.

[qveerthe0ry]

Hello friends! I'm Tings, and I mainly write for the Pedro boys here on Tumblr.com

This blog is strictly 18+ so please be mindful and dni if you're a minor.

I am non-binary/gender fluid and queer, and most of my works will reflect this!

A little more about me here if you're feeling nosy, but I'm always down to make new friends here so hop in my ask/dms if you ever want to chat!

Masterlist:

The D-Files (Oneshot) - 18+ - Dieter Bravo x Fox Mulder x Dana Scully

What Means to You, What Means to Me (Oneshot) - 18+ - Max Phillips x afab! NB! Bisexual! Reader

Smush (Oneshot) - 18+ - Frankie Morales x Santiago Garcia

Naked in Manhattan (Oneshot) - 18+ - Marcus Pike x Dieter Bravo

Conquer the Heart (Oneshot) - M - Joel Miller x M! Reader

Your Ride, Best Trip (Oneshot) - 18+ - Marcus Pike x F! AFAB! Reader

Truth or Consequences (Oneshot) - 18+ - Ted Garcia x ftm! Reader

If You're Crazy Too (Oneshot) - 18+ - Santi x m!amab!reader x Frankie

Lions Ain't the Kind (Ongoing) - 18+ - Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader

Slipped Through (Oneshot) - 18+ - Joel Miller x F! AFAB! Reader

Misfire (Oneshot) - 18+ - Dieter Bravo x GN! Reader

Misfire (Anon's Version) - 18+ - Dieter Bravo x GN! Reader

With Peace on Earth (Oneshot) - 18+ - Joel Miller x GN! Reader

[baronessvonglitter]

October's on it's way out the door.. however Fuck-tober is still going on!

Here are the fics written so far 😊

Do You Wanna Touch Me? ~ Marcus Pike x Sex Worker Female Reader ~ by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Let's get it on ~ Lucien Flores x afab!reader x Frankie Morales ~ by @itwasntimethatdidit40

May Contain Some Artificial Sweeteners ~ Tim Rockford x OFC Leanne, OFC Jane Nebble ~ by @inept-the-magnificent

my skin in your teeth ~ neighbor/boyfriend Frankie Morales x f!reader ~ by @joelalorian

Needed Me ~ Javi P x f!reader ~ by @sunshinehaze1

S & Miller ~ Jackson Era Joel Miller x Sex Worker - Dominatrix Plus Size Female Reader ~ by @everybodylovedcontractors

What's Love Got to Do with It ~ Oberyn x f!reader ~ by @almostempty

These are all great, fun reads and I highly encourage everyone to check them out, like, comment, reblog! There are more fics to come and I will update as necessary 🖤

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 03/10/2024

Made it another week Nerdie.

That I did. I believe today is Sunday. Too much time in this chair. I think I slept in it before. Too many times.

Nerdie, don't you have a bed?

I do, I don't always make it there. I've usually zoned out and nodded off, the wake up when my neck hurts. 👀 I'm not always writing either, just thinking sometimes.

Couldn't you think in bed Nerdie?

I could, but I don't. That sounds like a good idea. My ideas aren't always great. But I did have a few this week.

My March Spring Prompts continue. I was able to do ten of them without repeating a character! 🤗 This upcoming week we'll see some Pedro peeps come back. Key words: gas station sushi, angst, oil and bath. Remember this is Nerdie 😎, it could be any and everything, but my prompts are mature and not explicit. I do write about some heavy subjects, fluff, a few giggles, and have some innuendos, but my main masterlist is 78% smut so just go there.

The WIP I’d been mentioning for the last few weeks or months (could be either) is finished and posted : Diddle your Dieter to Disco. My first Dieter smut actually which is hilarious at least to me. 🤣 The rest of his Masterlist is fairly fluffy. I would check the warnings on it, I put a lot in it. 👀

Part Two of my series The Lake Between Us is up. Make sure to read the warnings. Ezra introduction has a lot going on. It's an AU so he has both arms but that doesn't mean I didn't torture him other ways. 👀 I do love that ya'll love the taglist name "Taste-testers of Ezra's gumbo." 😆

I finally wrote the follow up to He told me his name called She made me feel. I think I enjoy mentally torturing Pedro characters at this point. Poor Din is so anxious and touch-starved. As always with Din = HANDS. A Nerdie staple. This is The Way.

Now for everyone's favorite (and mine): Fic recommendations!!! (Yes I did type and do a little yell, fanfics are serious. Pfft.) 😄

Confetti by @secretelephanttattoo (Marcus Pike x f reader) The Quiet Moments Collection

Adrift with you by @morallyinept (Frankie Morales x Jude OFC) The Prologue “I’m behind”’😭

A Real Man by @pedroshotwifey (Frankie Morales x female plus size reader) my request - stay self indulgent everyone! 🥰

Tick by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (Frankie Morales x wife reader) The Mistress of Angst!

A Bronx Tale: Part Deux - A Chicago Tale by @justabovewater20 (SydCarmy)

Love’s a weed:  just ripe by @tinytinymenace (Frankie Morales x ofc - Ruby) Fruits are essential.

Second Chances part 2 by @pedroscurls (Marcus Pike x fem reader) Such a cute series 💕

Cigarettes After Sex by @immarocketman (Awesome artist I follow. 💜)

Promise by @criticallyacclaimedstranger (Ezra - dragon x fem reader) The only Pedro character that can pull off being a dragon. 🐉

Please Mister Please by @grogusmum (Joel Miller x fem reader) The fluff 🥹💕

Unconventional Location by @winniethewife (Abel Morales x fem reader)

Personal Shopper by @huntingingoodwill (Dieter Bravo x reader)

Enjoy the Silence by @strang3lov3 (Joel Miller x fem reader)

Spicy Ask #68 by @kewwrites (Din Djarin x reader) Say it with me: HANDS 🙌🏼!!!!

Reminder by @criticallyacclaimedstranger (Tim Rockford x fem reader) Sometimes good things happen in Tim’s office.

Forever Starts With You Masterlist (Frankie Morales x chubby fem reader) @criticallyacclaimedstranger I loved all three parts I read 🥰🥰 (A Good Start, A Strong Finish and A New Beginning). It looks like there more to their story so much more reading for me. ❤️

some good friend by @covetyou (Tim Rockford x fem reader) TIM DESERVED THIS ❤️ That is all.

Sanctuary by @thefrogdalorian (Din Djarin x GN reader) Din fluff forever. 🤗

We got your back chapter 1 by @softpascalito (Javier Peña x fem reader)

The Sweetest Melody by @noisynaia (Din Djarin x afab reader)

Rise by @sp00kymulderr (Joel Miller x afab reader) ALL THE FEELS 😭

Falling for you by @fhatbhabie (Joel Miller x plus size reader) Part One - The drama!

Just look at You by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (Poe Dameron x fem reader) The Poe Dameron smut we deserve. 🍆

Chapter 3 - Here’s a health to the company… and one to my Boss… by @inept-the-magnificent (Tim Rockford x ofc Jane Nebbie) I just think about this series and I start giggling. Sunshine Nebbie and grump Tim - he is a super grump. But he is also me. 🤣

To the Flame chapter 6.5 by @pedroshotwifey (Dark Javier Peña x fem reader) So sweet out of context.

To the Flame chapter 9 by @pedroshotwifey (Dark Javier Peña x fem reader) The slow decent begins...we're just at the start of the ride. 😈

Between the Sheets by @saturn-rings-writes (William Tell x fem reader) Reminded me of an Isley Brothers song. I feel like we're headed toward that song. Please with this direction.

Hiccup by @morallyinept (Javier Gutierrez x fem reader) A whimpering Javi G. What an evening. 😘

A New Home by @charethcutestory02 (Frankie Morales x Benny Miller) Budding feelings. 🤗

Special shout out to Ms. Payday - Le Poet and lover of da words: @maggiemayhemnj They seek her out, have brunches and nightcaps. It's what all writers long for. She checked in on me along with @megamindsecretlair @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @magpiepills @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @lady-bess

I've been not as active - mainly due to work, school, and the insomnia. But still writing. 😄 priorities. lol

New appreciation for Javier Pena. well not new, re-newed. Maybe am working on a few things. None are good, none are final. Still need polishing. Also need to give Javi G's outline another look. I might...👀 have a chapter for him this week. I hope. @goodwithcheese was pleased with this. @undercoverpena was Luke-warm. I think she thought I was taking something, but if Javi P has shown us anything, sharing is caring. 😘

Stay well, sleep in your bed (unless you're planning not to) and be hydrated,

Love Nerdie 💕

[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 8 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 8 Summary: Before going any further, you set some ground rules with Javi. Then it's fucking game on.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Marcus x f!Reader), flashback, slowburn that got hot, workplace romance, ohh the yearning, fake relationship, keeping it secret, unprotected PIV sex (stay safe, folks), Dom/sub dynamic, use of Daddy, slight degradation kink (you’re a good little slut/whore), rough sex, possessiveness, cuckolding if you squint (I really don’t know how to describe it), dirty talk (Javi has a filthy mouth), light titty/ass spanking (2 light, 1 harder), hair pulling, spit, talk about anal, very light cumplay/eating, aftercare, soft!Javi, a bit of feels. 

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color. Reader is short enough to notice a difference in height without heels and has hair long enough to brush aside and pull back.

Words: 8.1k

Author’s Note: THEY FINALLY FUCK - Jeeeeesus. Took them long enough, huh? Please let me know if I missed anything I should add to the warnings, I feel like I took a kinky bag of scrabble tiles and just dumped them out on the floor with this chapter. This is easily the filthiest fucking thing I’ve ever written, and I’m actually really proud of myself. My new taglist is at the end! If you’d like to be added, just send me a DM or say so in a comment. ❤️

A ginormous thank you to my darling beta, @kilamonster. I could not have written this without your neverending support and tutelage. I can’t wait to write more smut in Spanish with you! Also, I’m not sorry for sending you periodic updates and random questions about the thots running wild in my head. 💋💜 

Also, for anybody else like me who wants to write more smut in Spanish, @kilamonster sent me this incredible resource written by the amazing @urmomsgnocchi. Representation is so important, and this is just one of the many ways writers can do their part to represent different languages and cultures in their work. Please like, comment, and reblog the post so more writers can benefit!

Dividers by @saradika!

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

“Okay, ‘grown ass woman,’” he says, and you let out a small laugh. “I’ve got a choice for you to make.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” 

“Your place or mine?”

~*~*~*~

Later That Night Texas

You chose your place. Javi says he’ll give you a half hour head start to avoid any suspicion from the other agents. You’ve put your blazer back on and fixed your hair, but the wet heat between your legs remains. 

The gallery event wraps up, and Javi tells the others to report to the conference room the following morning for the official debrief. You check in with Diaz, who is still at the hospital, and are glad to hear that Bateman is already in post-op recovery and doing well. 

Standing in your kitchen back home, old, familiar feelings wash over you. The adrenaline of the night has worn off, leaving you off balance. Marcus comes to mind, and his calm, grounding energy. You groan in frustration. You can’t let thoughts of Marcus creep in and ruin what is happening with Javi. 

What is happening with Javi? Obviously, the sexual tension between you is off the charts; and the chemistry – oh God, the chemistry. Your heart rate goes up just thinking about how it felt to have his mouth and hands on you finally, his hardness pressing into you through his pants… 

Taking a deep breath, you mutter to yourself, “I need a drink.”

Glass of wine at the ready, you kick off your heels and hang up the blazer in your closet. You feel as taut as a harp string and take a large gulp from your wine, hoping it will relax you. Rolling your neck and shoulders, you hear your phone buzz on the kitchen counter.

Setting the glass down, you take a deep breath and pick up your phone. 

It’s a text from Javi. Maybe he changed his mind, or decided sleeping together wasn’t worth the risk to the case or your careers. Unlocking the screen, you read the text only to see that he’s giving you a final chance to change your mind.

I’m here. Do you still want me to come inside?

Peeping through the blinds, you look down at the parking lot outside your apartment building. The streetlamp casts just enough light to see Javi’s Jeep parked in one of the visitors’ spots. The man himself is in shadow, pacing a bit and fidgeting with his phone, presumably waiting for your reply. You smile, realizing that he might actually be a tad nervous too.

Opening your front door, the light from your apartment spills across the walkway outside and catches Javi’s attention. He stops and looks up expectantly to where you stand, backlit and beckoning to him from the second floor railing. Pocketing his phone, Javi makes a beeline for the stairs and takes them two at a time, reaching you in less than a minute. 

The first thing you notice is the difference in your height, now that you’re barefoot. He’s smiling down at you, fingers dancing at his sides. 

“Touch me,” you reply softly, “please.” 

His tongue pokes out and wets his bottom lip.

“Inside.” Javi’s voice is strained, but firm. 

Turning, you lead him inside your apartment, then hear him shut and lock the door behind him. You start to face him, but he interrupts. 

“Don’t. Stay like that for me.” 

Footsteps approach slowly from behind, making a coil tighten in your lower belly. You feel his presence at your back before he even touches you. Goosebumps erupt across your flesh as his fingers lightly graze your shoulders and upper arms. 

A hand sweeps your hair to one side and off your neck. You tilt your head in the same direction, hoping to feel his lips on your sensitive skin. Javi’s hands still and he leans over to speak low in your ear. 

“If we do this, I only have one rule.” 

You smirk, remembering the first time he said that. 

“You make the rules?” You start to turn your head to look at him, but his grip on your upper arms tightens just enough to hold you in place. His mustache twitches against the shell of your ear as he smiles, sending delicious signals to your already peaked nipples.

“No.” He takes a breath through his nose, smelling your hair. “You do.”

You let out a surprised Oh. 

“You’re in charge of this; you decide what we do or don’t do, and how far this goes.” He walks around to face you, and you’re surprised to see how gentle his eyes are. They’re round and sincere, serious but not stern. You can’t wait to see them looking up at you from between your legs.

“Understand?”

You nod and he cups your face, running the pad of his thumb over your mouth and parting your lips.

“Use your words, cariño. I need to hear it.”

“I understand,” you say, then drag the tip of your tongue against his thumb. He lets out a pleased hum. 

“Good. Now, tell me your rules.” His other hand strokes your lower back, sending shivers up your spine.

“Oh. Um, I – I don’t know,” you stutter. 

He drops his hands and takes half a step back. “We’re not doing anything until you set the rules.”

“But–”

“This is important, cariño. I’ll give you a moment to gather your thoughts.” 

And just like that, Javi’s walking away from you and sitting on your couch. What the hell is happening here? 

He’s right, of course, damn the man. You want to be mad, but don’t know what to be mad about – how respectful he is? Letting out a deep sigh, you go back to the kitchen and pick up your glass of wine. 

“Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?” Your voice comes out a bit more caustic than intended, and the sound of Javi’s throaty chuckle from the living room makes you bristle. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” 

The man sounds so calm and unfazed you want to throw something at him, but instead, you pout like a grown up and pour another glass. You set it on the small end table to his left and start pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. 

Stuck in a quandary like this, you used to be able to call Marcus up and talk it through, but that sounds as appealing as lemon juice in a paper cut right now. Besides, even if Marcus would help you get laid, he’s probably busy with his girlfriend.

Sighing, you sit down next to Javi and face him. In this position, the hem of your dress rides all the way to the top of your hip, but you’re in no mood to be modest. Javi takes a sip of his wine and turns slightly in your direction. He puts an arm along the top of the couch, and you try not to notice the way his suit jacket opens, revealing his broad chest sloping down to hint at a soft belly. His thighs splay invitingly, and you bite your bottom lip. 

“Cariño?” Javi’s eyes sparkle with mischief. 

“Right. The rules.” You set your glass of wine down and try to focus. Javi waits patiently, but you can see his fingers toying with the fabric on the back of the couch. He’s just as anxious to get this part over with.

“Rule number one: nothing at work. Ever. Not even after hours or in the parking lot. Nothing.” 

Javi nods in stout agreement. 

“Rule number two: it’s just sex. We’re simply two consenting adults with insane chemistry, privately enjoying the hell out of each other’s bodies.” 

“Enthusiastically consenting,” Javi smirks, and sets his glass of wine next to yours so he can stroke your bare thigh. The hunger in his eyes is distracting, but you manage to pull your thoughts together one last time.

“And lastly, but most importantly – rule number three: what happens undercover stays undercover.”

Javi’s hand stills on your skin and he looks at you curiously. “You mind expanding on that a bit?”

“Our cover is just that; a story, playing pretend. We don’t let it blur the lines of whatever we do outside of the investigation. We have to compartmentalize.” 

Javi takes a moment, considering what you’ve said, then nods. Looking you over, he slides his hand up to your hip and leans in, closing the space between you on the couch. 

“I guess that means we better get out of these clothes.” 

“That's a great –” You don’t even get to complete the sentence before his mouth is on yours again. In seconds, his mouth is devouring yours again, his hands feverishly roaming over your hips and ass. 

Javi takes his hands away just long enough to shrug out of his suit jacket while you make quick work of removing his tie. He tries to pull the straps of your dress down, but they get stuck on your shoulders. Grunting in frustration, his hands try locating the zipper of your dress on your back. 

You might have let him struggle a bit more simply for the fun of it, but your skin is on fire, desperate to feel more of him. 

You pull your mouth away from his long enough to gasp, “On the side. Here,” and point to the thin zipper hidden in the ruched fabric. 

“You’re lucky you said something, I was about to rip this thing off you,” Javi growls, making you giggle. “Does that amuse you, cariño? Making me suffer?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit with a small shrug, but your voice is breathless. He’s moved his mouth to your neck, where he licks a swath of skin across your fluttering pulse.

The zipper is finally down, and Javi tugs the straps of your dress and bra down at the same time, pinning your arms to your side and freeing your breasts. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, taking in your exposed flesh. He pulls you up so you’re kneeling before him on the couch, your breasts level with his face. Leaning in, he stops just shy of one pebbled nipple, his hot exhalation warming your sensitive skin. Your hands itch to grab his hair and pull him in, but the suspense is delicious. 

Javi palms your other breast and glides his thumb over the nipple, making you whimper. He lets out a strangled sound in his throat before latching his mouth onto the peaked bud in front of him, sending an electric current straight to your pulsing core. 

Your head falls back with a gasp, and Javi pulls your body closer, moaning around your nipple. Javi is too engrossed in giving your other tit the same treatment to notice you straining at the straps of your dress and bra. 

“Please,” you whimper. He pulls off your breast with a small pop and looks up at you, still massaging and caressing the flesh in each hand. His eyes are dark in the dim light of the living room, but you can see them glazed over with lust. 

Javi watches you expectantly, waiting for you to voice your request.

“Please let me touch you.” 

He smiles, giving you a small thrill. 

“You asked so nicely.”

It's not the yes you wanted, so you wait. He leans in to kiss the tops of your breasts and traces a line up your clavicle with the tip of his tongue. 

“Stand up, cariño.”

With his assistance you get up off the couch and face him, standing between his knees. The straps of your clothing are loose enough now to pull yourself free, but you wait for Javi to give his assent. He smiles softly at you from his seat on the couch, openly admiring your body on display for him. 

“Take it off,” he instructs. “Slowly.” 

You shed the form-fitting dress like a second skin, taking care to pull it down slowly and exaggerating the wiggle of your hips, before dropping it to the floor.

“The bra, too,” Javi amends, his breath coming out a bit labored. The bra joins the dress at your feet, and you kick the garments to the side, standing before Javi in only your panties. 

You love seeing that he’s just as affected as you are. He rubs sweaty palms on his pant legs, and grips the edge of the couch cushion to keep from launching himself at you. He likes this game, too.

This is the feeling you missed – letting go of all your thoughts and worries, pleasing a partner so much by obeying simple commands, trusting that partner to not take advantage of the authority you allow them to have over you. This kind of power feels intoxicating and freeing all at once. 

He lifts his hips slightly to adjust himself, and the small thrust draws your attention to his lap, your eyes widening at the clear bulge in his pants. A discoloration on the fabric, left there by your own arousal, is the only evidence of how this all started back at the gallery.

Standing there, nearly naked in front of a fully clothed man, even one with as commanding a presence as Javier Peña, doesn’t make you feel as vulnerable as you thought it might. 

“Ah ah,” Javi tuts when he sees your fingers toying at the waistband of your last scrap of clothing. He gives his hard cock a squeeze with the hand in his lap, then draws a small circle in the air with one finger. “Turn around, hermosa.” 

This is what makes you feel vulnerable, being unable to see Javi or know what he’s doing behind you. What you felt earlier when Javi stood behind you in the entryway of your apartment is nothing compared to the intensity of this moment. 

The couch creaks, and you know he’s standing behind you – is it a change in the air pressure, or the heat emanating from his core? 

Javi leaves mere centimeters separating your bodies, his breath the only sound you hear over the whooshing of your own heartbeat in your ears. Goosebumps spread again across your shoulders and down your spine, as though your skin is doing whatever it can to get closer to him. Tingles arc across your scalp, and you shut your eyes tight against the sensations your body conjures in the absence and anticipation of his touch.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle and you flinch a bit when he gently sweeps your errant locks to the side, careful not to make contact with your skin. An elusive tickle at the shell of your ear has you tilting your head to the side. The bristle of his mustache sweeps across the tender area as he speaks, low enough to bring a tremor to your sternum. 

“Are you going to listen to me, cariño?” 

Your mouth pops open into a small ‘O’, and you nod. 

“Use your words, hermosa. I won’t tell you again.” There’s an edge in Javi’s voice, and you’re not sure if it’s the edge of authority or desperation. 

The walls of your pussy grasp around nothing, and your clit throbs in time with your pulse. Digging fingernail crescents into your palms, you make fists at your sides and curl your toes into the plush rug under your feet. 

“I–” Your mouth is dry and you swallow thickly to form the words he needs to hear. “I am. I’m going to listen to you.” 

Javi wraps an arm around your middle, pinning you to the wall of his chest, as his other hand snakes down to cup your sex over your soaked panties. The sudden contact pulls a moan from deep in your throat and the relief makes you sag against him.

“I know you will.” The murmur in your ear is soft and warm, reassuring. The hand of the arm wrapped around you cups your breast, while the other presses the heel of its palm into your mound over your clit. 

“Javi.” His name is an exhalation. “I need you.”

Your body has a mind of its own, and right now you are a slave to its impulses. Your hips move involuntarily, trying to rock into Javi’s hand, large enough to engulf your whole sex, then grind back onto his cock pressed hard against your ass. 

“I know, I know.” 

Javi’s words are both balm and incendiary. A small whine comes out of your mouth, and you press a hand over Javi’s, trying to increase the pressure over your clit.

“Mierda, cariño, you’re so eager.” He rolls your nipple between thumb and forefinger, giving it a pinch hard enough to make you gasp. “You better take me to bed, then.” 

On unsteady feet, you lead Javi to the master bedroom. Standing at the side of your bed, you feel a bit bashful and unsure of what to do with yourself.

“Sit down.” 

You obey and perch on the edge of the mattress, then wait for his next move. Javi saunters over, fingers going to his belt buckle, and stops in front of you. Your eyes flicker between his hands and his face, peering up at him through your eyelashes. 

Javi palms himself through his pants and your mouth floods with saliva. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth and bite it a little to keep from drooling. 

“So, this is it, huh?” He unbuckles the leather belt, then pulls it free from the loops around his slim waist in a single movement, catching you off guard.  

“This…what?” 

“This is your bed,” he reaches out and strokes your face, then holds your chin in his hand. “Where you let Pike fuck you.”

Abashed, you don’t answer right away, feeling the heat creep up your neck and bloom across your chest. You remember that Javi wants you to answer him, just the way Marcus did, by using your words.

“Yes, he fucked me in this bed.”

Javi strokes your chin with his thumb, then removes his hand to start unbuttoning his shirt. Your eyes glaze over slightly, your breath feels shallow. Javi’s gaze feels hot on your skin, and you can see his pulse beating on the side of his neck. 

Keeping your arms straight behind you, you put your tits on display, hoping to entice Javi to put his hands back on you. Spreading your knees apart, you want him to see the scrap of wet fabric covering your pussy. 

He lets out a deep breath through his nose that’s almost a growl, and strips his shirt completely off over his head, not bothering to finish unbuttoning it. Javi stands there, gripping his cock over his pants. 

“Show me.” His words rasp in the back of his throat.

Slowly, deliberately, you pull the gusset of your panties to the side, exposing yourself to him. Chest heaving, he doesn’t say anything for a few breaths.

“Lie down on the bed. Now.” Javi’s words have a bite to them, and you scurry to follow his command. 

You scoot backwards towards the middle of the bed, not willing to take your eyes off the man for a second. Pulling the covers back, Javi helps you locate the fitted sheet and move the comforter out of your way. He palms his dick one more time before taking off his pants, eyes glued to the apex of your thighs. 

“Take them off.”

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband, you lift your hips enough to slide your panties down, then kick them off the side of the bed. Unconsciously, your knees fall open more when Javi pulls his underwear off and you see his cock spring out of his boxers. 

Javi fists his hard length and gives it a couple strokes, precum pearling at the tip. You swallow, wishing you could take him in your mouth and taste the saltiness. 

“Touch yourself for me.” He sits on the side of the bed next to you, and his cock twitches in his hand. “Show me what makes that pretty pussy feel good, cariño.” 

Settling back on the pillows, you slide your hand over your breast and abdomen, down over your mound to your weeping center. You’ve barely touched your swollen and tender folds before you let out a whimper. 

“That’s it, querida,” Javi’s voice, filled with hunger, urges you on. 

Dipping a finger into your core, you use your own slick to glide between your lips, your breath coming out in sharp huffs. Touching the bundle of nerves at the top of your slit is like touching a live wire. Using the flat pads of two fingers, you apply gentle pressure to your clit, gliding easily now with your abundant arousal, closing your eyes from the intensity. 

A warm caress on the inside of your knee and thigh is Javi’s only touch, but it’s enough to make you moan and thrust your hips up into both your hand and his.  

“So impatient,” he remarks. His tone doesn’t match his mocking words, and you open your eyes again to see him slowly stroking his cock as he watches your fingers. 

“Javi, please.” Desperation laces your plea as you writhe into your hand, increasing the pressure on your clit. Using your other hand to play with your tits, you pinch and roll your nipples. “Please touch me.”

“Don’t stop touching yourself.” 

Javi leans over to kiss your breasts and stomach, then moves to kneel between your feet, firmly grasping the base of his cock. He lays down between your thighs, adjusting his cock so it’s pinned between his body and the mattress. 

“Please-please-please,” you whisper like a prayer. 

“You sound so sweet when you beg.” He takes your fingers off your clit and sucks them into his mouth.

You wonder if his resolve has finally cracked, because he wastes no time pushing your hand out of the way and licking a thick stripe from dripping hole to pulsing clit. 

“Fuck, Javi!” Your startled cry doesn’t deter him or slow him down, if anything it only spurs him on. He places a hand on the back of one knee and pushes your leg back, allowing his tongue easier access. The rumble of his deep, satisfied groan only adds fuel to the fire burning in the pit of your belly. 

He turns his head to kiss and nibble at your inner thigh long enough to say, “Jesus, you taste better than I imagined,” before returning to lap at the flow of your arousal. The hair on his upper lip is a sharply contrasting sensation to the thick, languid stroke of his tongue on your oversensitive flesh.

Javi’s broad shoulders under your thighs push your body up the mattress with every eager thrust of his tongue. Reaching behind you with one hand to brace against the headboard provides a bit of resistance, giving you just enough traction to bump your clit against the arch of his nose. It’s not enough, though, you need more. In vain, you try lifting your hips up to meet Javi’s face. 

A heavy arm wraps around your hip and pins you to the mattress. Whining in frustration, you look down to see Javi’s eyes trained on your face. Those large, dark orbs are fixed in a determined glare. Seeing them look up at you from between your thighs is a sight to behold.

Feeling bold, but mostly curious, you tentatively reach down and thread the fingers of your other hand through Javi’s thick hair. His eyes almost flutter closed for a moment, and the hand holding your leg back eases. You keep the knee bent, though, holding yourself open for him. 

Jaw slack, you watch transfixed as Javi captures your clit between his lips that are wet and shiny with your own slick. He circles his tongue around the engorged bud, the very tip sliding gently under the hood and making your hips spasm up to his face, again and again.

Panting, eyes squeezed shut, you focus on the feeling of his tongue, bordering on too much. With Javi’s hair clutched in one fist, you cling with the other to the slats of the headboard and undulate up against his plump lips. 

A thick finger prods gently at your opening, moving around to get the tip wet. Javi’s lips and tongue never leave your clit, and you resist the urge to pull his head into you by his hair, scared he’ll stop if you do.

The finger slips in, stopping at the first knuckle. 

“You want me to fuck you, cariño?” Javi’s voice is rough. “Is that what you want?” 

“Uh huh.” It comes out with a moan as the finger slips in all the way. “Hnh, shit…yes – yes, I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me.” The rest of the words tumble from your mouth.

“Then I’ve got to get you nice and ready for my cock.” He returns to giving your clit the attention it craves. Javi’s finger starts pumping in and out, stretching your walls around its thickness. 

“Fuck...fuck,” you curse and moan in time with each thrust. The beginnings of your orgasm begin to unfurl deep inside.

Javi keeps moving his finger in and out of you until it’s sliding without resistance, then starts teasing your entrance with the tip of a second. With his other hand, he spreads your lips and holds you open. 

“Christ, would you look at that?” You open your eyes to see Javi watching his two fingers sink into you, drawing out a moan from deep in your belly. “Fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to watch my cock split you open like this.”

You let go of Javi’s hair to grip the pillow under your head. You’re lifting your hips up in time to meet every thrust of his thick fingers. 

You can’t tell what’s more obscene, the sounds coming from your mouth or from between your legs. Turning your face into the pillow, you try to muffle some of your moans.

“Don’t cover your mouth, baby. I want to hear every fucking sound you make.” 

“But,” you gasp, trying to form the words, “neighbors…” 

“I want them to hear how good I make you feel, too.” He keeps his fingers buried to the knuckle inside you and crooks them just right, making you arch your back and moan. 

“Thaaat’s it, let me hear you.” Tension coils, your pussy clenching down on the continuous movement of his fingers pumping and curling. 

“Relax for me, cariño. I’ll never fit my cock inside you if you keep squeezing my fingers like that.” 

The filth spilling from his mouth has got you wound up so tight, it’s a wonder he can still move his fingers at all. He sucks your clit back between his lips, but your hips are bucking so hard he can’t keep a good hold on it. Instead, he drips saliva at the top of your slit, then spreads it with his thumb, around and around, letting your rolling hips determine the pace and pressure.

“Javi,...I’m–fuck, I’m getting close.” 

“Is this how he got you ready? Hm? Would he make you cum first on his fingers and tongue?” 

“Wha– unh, god.” What the fuck is he saying? Your mind is so fuzzy, the pleasure leaving almost no room for thought or reason.

“I bet he would. I bet he’d get you nice and wet, then work you open for his cock.” 

He’s asking about Marcus again, you realize. You feel the mattress shift and realize Javi’s rutting into the mattress in time with your hips. Knowing how turned on Javi is, it’s almost enough to tip you over the edge right then. 

“Yes, he– he made me cum first.” 

“Hard?” 

“Yes! God, Javi, that feels so good – please don’t stop.” You’re white-knuckling the pillow and headboard, getting closer to the edge, the pleas falling from your lips without thought. 

“He must have been something, for you to still be hung up on him. Still hungry for his cock.” 

Javi spits again, more lewdly this time in his excitement, and increases the pressure of his thumb over your clit.

“Fuck, I feel it – I know you’re getting close, cariño.” Javi’s hips keep rocking into the mattress. “Are you going to cum for me?”

Your breath comes out in gasps, you can only nod in response, eyes shut tight. 

“That’s it, hermosa, cum for me.” Javi’s words have you teetering on the edge. “Cum for me so I can give you my cock.”

With that final push, your fluttering walls spasm and pulse around Javi’s fingers, and he works you through it, groaning as he watches you writhing on his hand. 

Javi doesn’t even let the final shudders or your orgasm subside before he’s licking your cum off his fingers like an indulgent dessert. He gives your mound a kiss, then your belly, ribs, and breasts, getting on his knees between your thighs and leaning over you, murmuring praise in a heady mixture of English and Spanish.

“That was so good, cariño, you were so good. Eres tan bonita, y sabes pinche dulce.” Leaning on one elbow, he traces your lips with the fingers that were inside you. 

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” You nod, opening your mouth and licking the tip of one finger. Javi slips it past your lips, he lets out a sigh and says, “I’m going to have a lot of fun with that mouth.” 

Moaning, you begin sucking eagerly at his fingers, showing him what he could look forward to. He fucks them into your mouth a few times before pulling them out, much to your disappointment. 

“Another time, cariño. I need to be in that sweet pussy now.” 

Javi kisses you deeply, the taste of your cum mingling on your tongues. His mustache is wet with your slick, and you run the tip of your tongue along the ridge of his upper lip, the hairs tickling. He shudders and pulls away with a low grunt.

“Condoms?” Is all he can get out in between ravishing your neck and breasts with kisses.

“Drawer.” You gesture weakly to your nightstand, running your fingers through his hair. He stretches to pull the drawer open and pulls out the unopened box of condoms you’ve had there since you moved into the apartment.

“A brand new box, just for me?” His tone is teasing as he sits back on his knees. He tears the box open and rips off a condom from the strip, tossing the rest back in the drawer. 

“Um–” You get distracted watching him fist his cock. With a clearer head after your orgasm, you finally have the wherewithal to notice he’s thick and uncut. Biting your bottom lip, you think about how much fun you’ll have with him in your hands and mouth once he gives you the chance.

“Cariño?” Javi fixes you with an authoritative eye that makes your stomach flip. 

“It’s not new, exactly. I just haven’t needed to open it yet.” 

He looks at you curiously, and you start feeling a bit anxious. 

“Are you telling me you haven’t had sex since you moved here?” 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you say, “It’s not like I haven’t tried.” 

Feeling a bit self-conscious, you look away and pull your knees together slightly. Javi’s hand on your thigh stops you. His eyes have softened.

Javi settles between your thighs, bracing himself while he leans down and kisses you slowly. His chest is firm under your hands, and the steady beat of his heart feels grounding. He places light kisses along your jaw up to your ear.

“The last time you had a cock inside you,” he pauses to take a breath, “was with Pike?” 

You give a small nod, both of you breathing so heavily your chests press into one another on inhalation. Javi pulls back to look at you, his eyes shifting between yours and keeping you in focus. 

“Can I fuck you bare, cariño?” 

He’s not asking this lightly, and you know without him having to say that he will gladly accept whatever is your decision. You clench at the prospect of feeling all of Javi inside you and nod vigorously.

“Yes.” 

Javi kisses you deeply and holds your face in one hand, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice deep and a bit rough. You know he’s trusting you just as much.

You continue to kiss, your hands running across his shoulders and upper back, then into his hair again. He groans into your mouth as you stroke your fingers through his thick locks. 

You tilt your hips and spread your legs a bit wider, opening yourself up for him. Balancing himself on one arm, he guides the head of his cock between your folds, then slides it slowly up and down a few times, gathering your slick. You’re so wet, he’ll have no trouble entering you.

“Javi...” 

“I know, I know.” Javi presses the head of his cock at your entrance and groans. “Are you ready to take my cock, cariño?” 

He sits back on his knees to watch your response, his breath short and labored from holding back when you know all he wants is to plunge all the way inside you with one thrust. You roll your hips up, moaning as the tip of his swollen cock head nudges inside you. Javi grunts and pulls back a bit, gripping onto your hip. 

“Fuck, look at you – you can’t wait to feel my cock filling you up.” 

“Please, Javi. Please give me your cock. I need it,” you beg breathlessly. 

“That’s my girl, tell me what you need,” Javi soothes his hand over your flesh, rocking his hips forward and slipping just an inch inside you, then back out. In and out, until the head is fully inside.

“I need your cock.” He pushes a bit more inside you each time he rocks his hips, caressing your belly and breasts with his other hand. “I need you to fuck me with your cock.” 

“You’re still so tight, baby.” Javi huffs through flared nostrils, gritting his teeth, barely holding himself back.

“Javi, please–” Your whine chokes off with a sob as he plunges forward with a grunt.

“Fuuuuuck,” he rasps, pulling out half way, then burying himself fully in your cunt. “Is that what you needed, cariño?” He thrusts, watching his cock disappearing inside you again. 

“Yes,” you whisper, letting your head fall back limply onto the pillow.

“Are you happy now that you have my cock?” Javi’s keeping his thrusts slow, but full and deep. He’s breathing heavily from his pent up lust, still not fully letting himself go. 

“Yes.” The stretch of him inside you was mind numbing.  

“I knew you’d be good at taking my cock, baby. You’re opening up so well for me.” Javi hooks one of your legs over his arm. “You ready for me to really fuck you now?” 

“Yes, Javi – fuck me, please.” 

Javi’s hips start picking up their pace, snapping forward to fill your pussy. For a few moments, you and Javi are lost to the sensations, moaning in unison every time he bottoms out inside you.

“You feel so good wrapped around my cock, hermosa.” His grip on the leg over his arm tightens. You pull your other leg back, allowing him even deeper and he swears. “I can feel your pussy sucking me in.” 

He leans over, holding himself up with a hand beside your head. The change in the angle makes you gasp and clench around him.

“Mírame – look at me, cariño.” 

Javi is a vision above you with his forehead furrowed and mouth open. 

“What did he call you?” He slows his thrusts. “Hm? What did Pike call you when he was fucking you?” 

You look at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. He smiles, and slows almost to a stop. 

“Dimelo…” He grinds his hips into you, making you whine. “Tell me – now.” 

“I was his good girl.” Your pussy walls contract involuntarily with your confession, making Javi moan. 

“Fuck,” he starts thrusting again, “I bet you were so good for him. Were you?” 

“Yes. Yes, I was his good girl.” Javi moves the leg over his arm up to his shoulder, holding onto it for leverage as he fucks into you. 

“And what did you call him when you were his good girl?” His words come out a bit unevenly. Javi waits for your response, but you’re distracted by how deep his cock is. 

A swift but light slap lands on your tit. “Answer me.” 

You gasp, but he has your attention now, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“I called him Sir.”  

“Mierda, you’re drenching my cock right now. I bet you’re thinking about how his cock felt in your tight pussy, how it filled and stretched you.” 

“Oh, god–” You brace your arms over your head, using the headboard for resistance against the onslaught of Javi’s thrusts. 

Thoughts of Marcus and Javi swim together, the memory of Marcus’ touch with the reality of Javi’s. The walls of your pussy begin to flutter as your second orgasm of the night starts to build. 

Javi’s heavy breathing is surpassed by the sound of his thighs and balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. 

“Well, if you were his good girl, then you’re my slutty little princesa. You’re my little whore. Me entiendes?” 

“Yes, yes – I understand.” Your eyes are practically rolling into the back of your head when you feel Javi suddenly stop and pull out. Gasping, your eyes fly open in shock. He’s panting, and his neck glistens, flushed a beautiful shade of crimson with the veins prominently standing out. 

“Roll over – c’mon, on your knees.” You obey, desperate to have his cock buried in you once again. 

“Hands up here, flat.” He taps the headboard. His commands are light and natural, easy to follow. 

“If you’re going to be my little whore, I’m going to fuck you like one.” 

Assuming the position, Javi uses a knee to nudge your shaking legs wider, then pulls your ass back so you’re bent slightly over. 

“So what are you going to call me, huh?” He smooths your hair back off your face, sweaty at your temples, and gathers it loosely in his fist. He gives it a gentle tug, prompting you to answer his question.

“I don’t know,” you gasp, and arch into his touch as he smoothes a hand over your ass. He guides his cock and slides back into your cunt in a single thrust, making the headboard sway close to the wall. 

“I said keep your hands flat,” he reminds you, and gives your ass a small smack for good measure. 

Your fingers flex, and you spread them wide, straightening your elbows for balance. His free hand fondles your breasts one at a time, kneading them before pinching your nipples. 

“C’mon, princesa,” he urges, voice low behind your ear as he starts fucking you again. Your head gets tugged back by your hair in his fist at the nape of your neck as he fucks you harder. The angle of his cock hits that sweet spot inside you, making your eyes roll back. 

“What are you going to call me when I’m fucking you like my little slut?” His hot tongue licks over your pulse point. The filthy words spilling out of his mouth are making you dizzy. “Huh? When I’m pounding this pussy so good, you can’t fucking help yourself?” 

“Daddy.” 

It comes out in a soft, timid whimper. 

Javi smacks your ass with a stinging hand and growls in your ear, “Louder.” 

“Daddy!” 

“Theeere it fucking is.” Javi groans deeply in satisfaction, then licks his fingers and rubs them over your clit in time with his thrusts. “What a good little whore, taking Daddy’s cock so well.” 

He lets go of your hair to grip your shoulder where it meets your neck, pulling you back onto his cock. There is no way your neighbors can’t hear the noises coming from your mouth now. You’ve completely surrendered over to Javi, and you’re certain that if he were to take his hands away you’d fall over lifeless like a doll. 

“Daddy, I’m close.” 

The intensity of Javi’s hands, cock, and filthy mouth is so overwhelming, you can barely get the words out.

“Are you going to cum on Daddy’s cock, princesa?” Javi’s voice is ragged, his hips stuttering. 

“Imagine what he’d say – unh – if he saw you like this – absolutely wrecked, being someone else’s fuck toy.” 

He must be getting close too as his cock throbs inside you, his pace faltering.

The thought of Marcus watching you get railed by Javi has you on the very brink. You can’t hold back the moans now and Javi increases the pressure and speed of his fingers over your clit. Your cunt spasms, and his cock throbs in response.

“Mierda, you’re choking my dick. Damelo, princesa – give it to me, cum for Daddy.”

Your orgasm rips through you like a freight train, all while Javi talks and fucks you through it. 

“Fuuuck, yes – that’s it, cum all over Daddy’s cock. You’re squeezing me so tight.” 

Javi’s thrusts slow during your most intense spasms, and the fingers on your clit still, but maintain their pressure. You ride it out, reaching back to stroke Javi’s hair while you spasm around him.

Your head begins to loll a bit, exhaustion setting in after the two mind-melting orgasms. He wraps his arms around you, then slowly lowers your upper body onto the mattress, draping his body over yours. You hug a pillow to your chest, supporting yourself while he starts fucking into you, slow and deep. 

“What a good little slut.” He grunts softly in your ear each time his cock bottoms out inside you, fucking little whimpers out of you with every thrust.

“So good for Daddy.” Javi kisses your neck and the back of your shoulder. “You took Daddy’s cock so well, gonna give you my cum.” He’s beginning to get a bit breathless, his thighs shaking, thrusts getting erratic. 

In this position, you’re able to reach a hand back and spread your fingers on either side of his cock as it moves. A bit further, and you’re grazing his balls every so lightly and feel them beginning to tighten and retract. 

“Unh – fuck, yeah…” Javi groans through gritted teeth, then nips lightly at your shoulder making you gasp.

“Daddy, please cum for me. I want your cum. Please give it to me.” 

You’re babbling, your senses focused solely on the sound of Javi’s labored breathing, the feel of his cock twitching inside you, chasing that high with him. 

“Where do you want Daddy’s cum, princesa?” His words are strained now. He rises back up onto his knees, supporting himself with a hand between your shoulder blades.

“Anywhere you want, Daddy.” You contract the walls of your cunt around him for emphasis and he moans.

“Fuck, baby, don’t tempt me, I’m so close… But I think I want something else.” He grabs the globes of your ass with both hands, squeezing them, pulling them apart to see everything. 

“You ever let Pike fuck your ass?” 

You involuntarily clench around Javi. You and Marcus had certainly discussed it, experimented a little, but he’d never fucked you there.

“No...” 

“Mmm, good. Then I’m gonna paint that ass with my cum. Esta cosa es mía ahora. It’s fucking mine.”  

Eyes wide, you stretch your neck to watch Javi over your shoulder as he starts fucking you at a frenetic pace. His face, neck, and chest are flushed and gleaming with sweat. His brow is furrowed deep in concentration, teeth bared into a grimace. He lands a rough slap on your ass that makes you moan.

“Yes, Daddy – my ass is yours, only yours.” 

“That’s right, princesa – all mine,” he wheezes. 

Just when you think he’s about to burst inside you, Javi pulls out and starts furiously jerking his cock. Thick ropes of cum land in stripes across your ass and lower back, each spasm pulling a deep, breathy moan from him. He takes deep gulps of air into his lungs, milking every last drop of cum. 

Clenching around nothing, you moan with the pleasure of bringing him to release. You’re secretly thrilled at seeing Javi brought to this degree of vulnerability. 

Javi leans over and licks a small drop of cum that landed on the swell of your cheek. He bites the flesh then sucks, letting go with a pop. It’s done without inhibition or hesitation, just an impulsive, erotic claim of your body.

“Next time, princesa,” he pauses to smear the pooling cum lightly over your asshole, “I’m going to watch that beautiful face when I make you cum on Daddy’s cock.”

“Mm, I’d like that,” you say softly, and close your eyes, the adrenaline waning. Staying still for a moment, you take a deep breath, enjoying the familiar, empty ache between your thighs that can only come after an amazing fuck. 

You start to lower your legs to lie in a prone position, but Javi wraps his arms around you as support, lowering you gently to the mattress. 

“I’ve got you, cariño.” 

You’re vaguely aware of Javi stepping into the en suite bathroom and returning with a warm wet washcloth. He gently wipes you clean and fixes the covers. 

A few moments later, you feel the mattress shift as he climbs into bed next to you. Strong arms pull you into a warm embrace. A light kiss to your forehead tickles with the soft hairs of Javi’s mustache.

Sighing, you roll your body against his, resting your head on his shoulder and draping an arm across his chest. He smooths your hair off your forehead and brushes a soft kiss to your head, stroking your arm. With the steady rise and fall of Javi’s chest, the last thing you remember before drifting off is his whispered, “Sweet dreams, cariño.”

~*~*~*~

Javi doesn’t even crave a cigarette. And he can’t remember the last time he stuck around this long after sleeping with someone. Once you fall asleep in his arms, he doesn't want to risk waking you, and there is no way in hell he’s going to sneak out on you. 

He reasons that he’ll relax for a bit, then wake you up to say goodbye. But the feel of you in his arms is better than he let himself indulgently imagine these past few weeks. The softness of your curves, the weight of your head on his shoulder; the implicit trust you placed in him this evening, and the ease with which you fell asleep with him holding you… 

It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep too. At some point in the night he stirs, and realizes you’re out of bed, but doesn’t know what time it is. The apartment is dark now, and the only light comes peeking out from the bottom of the bathroom door. Groaning, he stretches his legs, knowing the soreness in his knees will plague him for the next couple days. 

The light in the bathroom flicks off and the door opens, creaking a little. Your nude form appears, lit only by the ambient light coming through the window from the streetlamps. You pad softly across the carpet and he whispers a soft, “Hey,” so you know he’s awake. You jump just slightly then smile in relief. 

“Hey, yourself,” you whisper in return, then walk to the other side of the bed and climb in. 

“What time is it?” Javi rolls to face you and props his head on his hand. 

“Late – or early, depending on how you look at it.” 

Javi leans over to kiss your lips, then your forehead, trailing the tip of his nose down yours. You hum in that way he’s already familiar with, making him smile. 

“How late-or-early?” 

“Three-ish.” You kiss him, muffling his surprise. 

“Shit, I didn’t mean to fall asleep that long. Sorry.” Javi is about to make his excuses to leave, before you speak again.

“We better go back to sleep now. The debrief is early and I want to get up in time to bring something in for the team.” 

Yawning, you roll away from him and drag his arm around you. Javi smirks, and settles in to spoon your body with his own.

“I guess I don’t need to ask what your rule is about sleeping over, then?” He kisses the back of your shoulder and you press back into him.

“Shut up and go to sleep, Javi.”

“Okay, cariño.”

Chapter 9 - Coming Soon!

Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

No-Pressure Taglist: @kilamonster @half-moon16 @for-a-longlongtime @pedroswife69 @pedroshotwifey @angiewatson @morallyinept @peepawispunk @i-wanna-be-your-muse @marysucks-blog @guelyury @connectioneverywhere @sunshinehaze1 @drewharrisonwriter @venturawriter @survivingandenduring @thetriumphantpanda

[sp00kymulderr]

take the long way home - part 2

series masterlist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x afab reader

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, one night stand, cursing, reader is a mess, Marcus is Marcus.

Word Count: 1k

Series Summary:  Classic story, right? You meet a handsome man, let him take you home, and plan to never see him again. Of course, these things rarely go to plan.

A/N: To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist.

Marcus feels sick.

The moment he see's you in that meeting room, his new employee, he feels quesy with it. You...the person who had come in to his life one evening and left it without a word the next morning. He had thought about seeing you again, too many times to count...but hell, not like this. 

Definitely not like this.

When he had woken up that morning to find you already gone from his bed, from his home and from his life his first feeling had been quite reasonably one of disappointment. Marcus hated waking up alone, no one to talk to, no one to kiss good morning - in the past he had even chased relationships just to not be alone. After a breakup he would wake unfulfilled and lonely in bed, unable to shake the feeling for weeks. After Teresa it had been worse. 

Maybe he was naive but he had assumed you would at least let him make you breakfast, after what you had let him do the previous night. But you hadn’t left even a note, not your number pinned to his fridge or a ‘thanks for the memories’. Not even a quick cup of coffee and a kiss on the cheek. Had it been too much to expect? Was he just not well versed on the one night stand anymore? Maybe he really was just still making mistakes over and over again…just like before.

Now he thinks back to that night. Before you’d gotten home - before you’d gotten in to his bed. You’d mentioned a new life - a new job and a fresh start - in that hopeful but melancholy tone that had drawn him to you in the first place. God, he had never thought for a moment the job could be here. In his department. Working with him. Maybe he should’ve asked more but then there hadn’t been much talking after the bar.

So Marcus stands in that meeting room shell shocked and feeling sick. Not just that…he feels anxious and unsure and he doesn’t even think there is protocol in the HR documents for this kind of thing.

He stays silent for just a beat too long and someone in the room clears their throat. He’s just standing there barely through the doorway, staring at the new hire.

The prettiest new hire he could've ever imagined.

Damn he was screwed.

****

You give him a smile, hopefully something professional and not something that says ‘oh god oh god I slept with my boss’.

"Nice to meet you, Agent Pike" You say confidently, saving him from his freeze as you stand up to shake his hand. If you can just keep everything professional you’ll be fine, right? It was one night and it didn’t mean a thing, right?

The contact of his hand on yours sends a spark of memory right through to your brain and you have to blink sharply to stop seeing that same hand disappearing beneath the hem of your dress not that long ago.

"You alright, boss?" One of the others, Michael you think, says to him.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Busy morning, just trying to catch my thoughts before we go over this case" Marcus clears his throat and finally moves to sit down at the head of the table.

"So..." he takes one more moment, a breath, before pulling some papers from a binder.

There’s a syndicate of art forgers operating out of Chicago. Marcus talks the team through it as you try so, so hard to listen and not think about the things your mind is apparently determined to make you think on. This is your new job and your new life; you can't screw it up just because you screwed the wrong person.

Not again.

You want to think about work. You’ve uprooted your whole life to be someone new, someone better. But how the hell can you be that when your boss is a man with huge brown eyes and a soulful stare and a kiss that could stop time?

Somewhere in the distance you hear someone saying your name, but you're pretty damn lost in whatever the hell is happening in your mind.

"Huh?" You say, and see eight expectant faces staring back at you.

"Did you want to...can you introduce yourself to the team?" Marcus is speaking, of course it's his voice.

His voice had moaned your name just a few short weeks ago. If it wouldn’t look completely nuts you’d slap yourself just to get that damn thought out of your head.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course” You mumbled, trying to get your thoughts back on track. You sit up straighter and try for that air of confidence.

“I just transferred from New York - Organized Crime division - going for a bit of a change after…” After I got my heart broken by my partner… “After closing off one of the biggest cases. I needed something uh, different”

Not a lie, although not the whole truth. You’d worked with your partner for years and you’d loved them for years and then they’d met someone else. Just like that. After the case you’d been chasing for years was finally put to an end you’d had to get out of there and never see them again. But your new team didn’t need to know that. Your new boss definitely didn’t need to know that.

You look at the team. All of them pleasant, all of them welcoming. But all you feel is this pit of dread in your stomach. You don’t look at Marcus. After a few questions about your work, and an introduction to the others' roles they’re leaving the room before you even realize the meeting has ended.

And just like that it's you and Marcus in the room together. 

You clasp your hands together and stand awkwardly from your chair. You should look at him but god you don't want to look at him. How could you have let this happen, why did you have to go home with him that night? Why did you have to keep making these stupid decisions? 

"So...new job huh?" Marcus finally breaks the silence with a weak voice and you look over at him, steeling yourself. You will not be taken in by those warm brown eyes, you will not.

"Yeah. New job" You start, not sure what exactly to say 

“We should probably talk-“ He begins but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

"Look…Blank slate? Lets just- We’ll pretend we’ve never met before. It was only one night, it’s not like we know each other” 

Perhaps in your dream world, you’d like this to be different. He’s handsome and kind and you had really enjoyed your night with him. But this is the real world, and life isn’t a goddamn fairytale where you can make eyes at your boss without consequence.

“This job is really important for me. It's really, really important I don't screw it up" You explain and look at him with pleading eyes. Marcus looks disappointed? Upset? You're not sure. You don't like his expression.

"Blank slate, yeah, that's fair. I wouldn't want to start you off on the wrong foot here…. It was just the one night. Right" Marcus's voice is a little quiet, like he's not sure he believes those words as he looks at you - you feel like his eyes are searching yours for something. You try very hard to not give him anything to find.

“Well…" He finally gets up, saying your name as he opens the door for you.

“Welcome to the team. It’s nice to meet you”