How it works:A pick a favourite passage from your work for each category below. It can be a line or a few paragraphs.
thanks for the tags @petalsinblood @inept-the-magnificent @shadowqueen2024 @604to647 @kokoluwie @ess-evo @missadangel @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @mcthsman @milla-frenchy @bergamote-catsandbooks @madpanda75 @vodkaandpizza 💜 - I tried to choose older fics that I haven't really thought about in a while
Most Romantic (or sweetest): an oldie but a goodie, Ready When You Are - (husband!Marcus P x wife!Reader) ~ you and your husband Marcus Pike can't stop thinking about trying for a baby...
"Would you want to start trying for a baby?"
Marcus stops, coffee cup halfway to his lips. Then he breaks into a grin, only resuming his poker face for only a moment to say: "I'm ready when you are."
You nod, letting the pieces fall together in your brain. There are unknowable factors, of course, but you wouldn't be alone, and you'd be having a child with the absolute love of your life.
"I'm ready. I want to have a baby with you."
The smile on Marcus's face could light up the entire Eastern Seaboard. He takes your hands across the table, leaning in for a kiss. "I'm so glad, because honestly I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since the baby shower yesterday," he admits a little sheepishly.
His enthusiasm is contagious, lifting your heart and erasing any doubts you had. "Do you think we're ready?" you have to ask.
"Babe," he says. "You're too perfect of a person to not be making the world better by adding a few more of you to it."
You sigh in mock exasperation. "How do you know exactly what to say?"
He chuckles, but his expression softens when he looks at you. "I'm in if you're in. I mean that."
Your Angst-iest writing: I have a couple but one of my favorites is i swear i'll only make you cry - (Joel Miller x f!reader, Javier Pena x f!reader) ~ After facing an unimaginable loss, you start the healing process, only to uncover a darker secret.
The days go by in a blur. Javi's family plans his funeral, and when you offer to help in whatever way they need, you're met with blank stares and uncomfortable glances. It says all you need to know - they have no idea who you are. Javi never told them about you, not in all the months you dated.
You lose yourself in a bottle of whiskey that night, only getting up to let in your best friend, Joel Miller. He was there for you the night Javi forgot your birthday. Joel didn't forget, and took you out for a fun night. He's here for you now, holding you as you sob, pressing gentle kisses to the top of your head, taking the alcohol away when you've had too much.
He tucks you into bed, talling you he'll stay on the couch. But you don't want to be alone. You invite him in your bed and there's just a slight hesitation before he climbs in, holding you.
He's a perfect gentleman despite your vulnerable state. His hands never drift above or below your waist as you sleep.
In the morning he takes you to Javi's funeral. Your sunglasses cover your cried-out, puffy eyes. Tissues are bunched up in your hand. Joel's arm is through yours as he leads you to the casket containing Javi's body.
Joel's your strength now. Without him, you wouldn't be able to stand.
Your most humorous: yet another oldie but a goodie, Chapter 8 of Law of Attraction. God, I miss writing this series. It's one of my faves - this entire series could also be considered one of my faves for Most Romantic/Sweetest 💜
The PI looks disgusted. "Is that how you usually talk about women? I should've let Dave beat the shit out of you. Maybe then you'd have some sense knocked into you."
"Don't fucking talk about her that way," Dave agrees, casting Joel a repulsed glance. "Is it too late for me to beat the shit out of him?" he asks Tim.
"As if you fuckin' could," Joel sneers.
"Big talk from someone wearing a bedsheet around his waist," Tim rolls his eyes. "She's been in there a long time, hasn't she?"
Both Dave and Joel hurry to the restroom, finding it unlocked, the shower running with no one in it.
"She's gone. She left through the fucking window," Dave says, pushing past Joel and going around the side of the building.
Tim follows as Joel quickly puts his jeans on before running out as well.
There, in the alley behind the motel, is Carol, sprawled on her back, and you on top of her torso, pinning her down.
"Got her!" you announce, trying to catch your breath as you straddle Carol, your dress riding up your thighs and breasts spilling over the front of your dress.
For a full minute all three men stare in surprise and lust.
Your sexiest: nothing.. and I mean nothing.. can beat Halftime Show - (Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno x sex worker! f!Reader) ~ you're an escort hired for a private Super Bowl party hosted by a mysterious client and his four friends
You're practically dazed by the countless feelings of pleasure coming from every man inside you, the way they move, the way they taste, how their hands grope your ass or your breasts, your hips.. you're just a receptacle for them, a plaything. This allows your brain to soak everything in without having to think. Just feeling. None of them really care about your pleasure, not at this point. You're just a means to an end, and you like it. You've never felt more alive.
"God!" you gasp as you feel yet another wave of absolute euphoria threaten to take you under. You don't even bother to hold back. As soon as you come you feel them all come with you, like tiny explosions set off in a chain. You gulp down Joel's spunk as Dave spills himself inside your ass, and Marcus and Frankie throb then release, one only seconds after the other. Javier takes control of himself from you and spurts his cum onto your face. For the first time ever in your life, you squirt, gasping at the relief and suddenness of it. The six of you try hard to catch your breath, all of you taking in the moments of this night.
not tagging anyone because most of you have done it and I'm way late on posting this, so if you see this and want to play along please tag me
Chapter Summary: You and Marcus have a quiet night in at his place after he returns from London.
Warnings: nondescript female reader, architect!reader, could be interpreted as original female character, reader is able-bodied, no use of Y/N, language, fluff, mutual pining, light angst, descriptions of food and eating, sharing a bed
Author’s Note: There was at one point a goal to have this lovely little story wrapped up by the time The Mandalorian and Grogu was released. But between my motivation plummeting after low interaction on the last chapter, my childhood dog of 13 years dying back in January, and finally moving out of my dad’s house and into my own apartment, I haven’t spent much time writing since the last chapter. I’m so sorry for the long wait for those who love this story and wait excitedly for each update, and I really hope you love this chapter as much as I do.
Previous | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Excitement beat through your chest a few short days after you and Marcus made it official as you walked up to his apartment, overnight bag in hand.
It had been thrumming within you since he left your office that day, his kiss and that oh-so-gorgeous smile having left you weak, yet with more energy than you knew what to do with. And that buzz had only intensified the closer you got to right here, right now.
At his door.
You took a deep breath before knocking on his door, having already buzzed in and made your way up to his floor.
You may have double—no, triple-checked that you had the right building. And the right floor. And the right apartment.
But you knew as soon as the door opened that you had absolutely nothing to worry about.
Because suddenly, Marcus was there in front of you, beaming as he welcomed you in with a lingering kiss and a gentle hand on your hip.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said lowly, his voice rich as he rested his forehead against yours.
“Hey, handsome,” you replied just as low, closing your eyes for a moment to just enjoy being near him. “Happy Friday.”
“Happy Friday, indeed,” he chuckled, pulling away to close the door behind you. “I officially don’t have to think about the London case anymore until I go in on Monday. Which is good, because all I could think about since I left your office was you.”
“Hm, that’s funny,” you countered, “because all I could think about since you left my office was you.”
Marcus threw his head back as he laughed, exposing his throat to you as his Adam’s apple bobbed. You took the opportunity to draw your gaze down, failing to suppress a small smirk as you took in his navy flannel thrown on over a soft black t-shirt with a sinfully comfortable pair of gray sweatpants hanging from his hips.
By the time your eyes returned to Marcus’s face, he looked thoroughly smug and more than a little amused.
“See anything you like?”
“Always, with you,” you replied, your face heated both from checking him out and from getting caught.
“Good,” he murmured with a small kiss before he then looked down to take in your form, your casual yet comfy ensemble complementing your body perfectly. “I feel the same,” he whispered as he brought his gaze back up to meet yours.
The two of you stood there for a minute, eyes glinting as you each tried to convey unsaid words with a smile. Eventually, Marcus broke away from you to take your bag and lead you into the kitchen.
“Considering I was out of the country for a few weeks and am still partially jet-lagged, I figured we could just order in. Maybe watch a movie or something,” he suggested.
“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, grinning at him. “Nice and homey, but low effort.”
Marcus looked up at you with delight from the drawer he’d started pulling take-out menus out of. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
He laid out a few options in front of you on the counter before moving to your side. “What are you in the mood for?” he asked. “I’m partial to this Mexican place, but I kind of feel like Thai food tonight,” he said, skimming two menus he’d picked up.
You leaned over, pressing your side against him so you could see the menus. “Thai sounds good,” you agreed. “And I like that restaurant. They have excellent pad thai.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he agreed, nodding. He leaned into you, deepening the contact between you as you both stood over the counter. “I can call in an order for delivery if you wanna get comfy?”
“Are you just offering to call so you can pay for me again?” you smirked.
“Hey, you’re at my apartment. And I don’t know if you’ve been told, but you are dating a gentleman.” He paused his playful argument to kiss you. “I’m paying.”
“I figured you would,” you sighed with a smile. “And no one had to tell me you were a gentleman. You showed me you were instead, and that’s way more meaningful. At least to me.”
Marcus looked over at you, his gaze soft as he searched your face. “Well then, I’m doing my job right,” he muttered smugly before he grabbed the Thai menu and opened his phone. “Get settled, I’ll be right back.”
You watched him walk to the hallway before moving over to his couch. It was a large couch for such a small apartment, the kind of L-shaped sectional you would expect to see in a family home rather than an apartment where one man lived alone.
The space was comfortable, and very Marcus. Abstract paintings hung from the walls and plenty of lamps filled the room, letting him choose how bright or how dim he wanted it to be. A small record player sat alone on a bookshelf—the records and books, you noticed, were mostly in boxes and piles scattered at the base of the shelves.
You cozied up with some pillows and a fluffy yellow blanket on the couch as your eyes swept the room, the designer in you coming out to analyze how he chose to keep the space he lived in.
Marcus returned, joining you on the couch with a muted thud. “Should be here in 20 minutes.”
You hummed your assent, still eying his decor. He turned his head to watch you, finding you wide-eyed as you took in his living room.
“So what does my apartment say about me?” he asked, amused. You looked over at him, slightly startled but touched that he’d known where your mind was.
“You like to indulge in the small things,” you speculated. “Things that make you feel more comfortable and more like yourself. Or maybe more like a better version of yourself.” You eyed the boxes of his things by the shelves again, wondering. “Did you move here recently?”
He huffed. “I don’t know how recently you would say about nine months ago was, but yeah.”
“And you still haven’t gotten settled?”
Marcus looked over at the boxes, too, shrugging. “I don’t know. This place was meant to be temporary. I transferred here to D.C. from the Bureau back home in Austin, expecting for this to be a go-between before I found a place to really start my life here.” He looked back at you, a sad smile on his face. “I guess it didn’t feel like my life here started until I met you.”
You melted a bit at that, taking one of his hands into both of yours as you brought it up to your lips. You placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles, keeping your eyes locked with his all the while.
Marcus’s breath audibly hitched. You lowered his hand, holding it gently in your lap. “I’m glad we found each other, Marcus,” you murmured.
“Me too,” he agreed, his voice small.
You and Marcus smiled softly at each other for a moment as you ran your thumbs along his knuckles. Just as you opened your mouth to break the silence, the buzzer went off at Marcus’s door.
He reluctantly pulled his hand out of yours as he got up from the couch. “I’ll be right back,” he promised as he walked the 10 steps to the door.
In the brief moment it took him to grab the food, you filed away this new information about his semi-recent move. It was another piece in the puzzle of Marcus, one that you were increasingly eager to get to the bottom of. Though he didn’t let his insecurities show very often, what you saw when he did—a man worried about someone he loves actually staying—made your heart ache for him.
It made you want to show him that you were here to stay—no matter the challenges or conflicts, and in spite of everything he sees as something wrong within himself.
You didn’t have time to simmer on this long, though, as Marcus plopped down next to you and started unloading the food onto plates he’d grabbed from his kitchen.
As you both settled in with your meals, he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, browsing what was on. He murmured the titles of various movies and shows as he scrolled the channels, gauging your interest out of the corner of his eye.
“Star Wars, Avengers, Game of Thrones…” he rattled off a few bigger series, things you’d be sure to know before listing some more niche titles. After a minute, he grew quiet, a silent question of whether anything sounded interesting.
“Let’s keep looking,” you gently encouraged him. “What channels do you usually go for on nights like this?”
He chuckled lightly before typing a channel number in. “Classics,” he responded resolutely. “The oldies and the goodies.”
“What do they have on?” you asked through a bite of food.
He paused for a moment, causing you to focus your attention on him. He almost looked scared, as if the answer wasn’t one he wanted to give.
“Casablanca,” he eventually provided in a low voice. “One of my favorites.”
You beamed at him. “Oh, that’s perfect! Let’s watch it.”
He turned to you, doubt written clearly all over his face. “You wanna watch Casablanca tonight? Really?”
Your smile fell a fraction at how quiet and unsure he sounded. “Well, yeah,” you reasoned. “If it’s one of your favorites, of course I wanna watch it. It’s like you said when we went to the classic movie theater. Movies are a part of what makes you you. And I can’t see any better way to spend the night than watching it with you.”
Marcus stopped for a second, his breath caught in his throat.
“Have you ever seen it before?” he asked suddenly.
“No.”
“Do you know what it’s about?”
“Not really.”
“Are you—”
“Marcus, why are you fighting me on this?” you cut him off. “Do you not want me to watch it?”
He sighed deeply, taking you in with eyes that seemed to be pleading you to stop. But as you let the silence drag on, waiting for an answer, he crumbled.
“The last time I watched this was with my ex,” he explained softly. “We didn’t get very far before it became clear she wasn’t interested in it at all and we switched to baseball.” Marcus took a steadying breath. “I love Casablanca, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch it since then.”
You took his hand, cradling it between your own. “We can pick something else, if you don’t wanna watch it,” you said gently. “But I would really like to watch one of your favorite movies with you, and I don’t think you should let your ex ruin something you love just because she was stupid and didn’t like it.”
He laughed at that, a watery smile growing on his face. Slowly, he brought his hand up, yours still clasping it, and kissed your knuckles. “What did I do to deserve you?”
A smile broke out on your face. “You were just you, Marcus. That’s the beginning and the end of it all.”
Marcus returned your grin and leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and sure on yours.
Before you knew it, he grabbed the remote to turn the movie on, and he was settling into the couch, leaning his weight on you.
You maneuvered yourself so that he could lay between your legs, his head resting on your chest. He let out a deep sigh of relief.
And when you wrapped your arms around him and started carding your fingers through his short curls, he absolutely melted into you.
As the movie went on, you truthfully couldn’t tell if Marcus was awake or not. He’d go from deep, steady breathing to muttering a fun fact about the movie or its actors so fast that it was hard to discern.
He needed the rest, so you didn’t push him if he really was asleep. Besides, his body still thought it was much later in the night than it really was.
But you stayed up through the whole movie to the end, watching the main character as he found a love he thought was lost, only to let her go when he discovered she loved someone else.
It made your heart ache in all the best ways, seeing the plot play out the classic trope of if you love something, let it go.
You wondered if maybe that’s why Marcus had been so hesitant to watch this. If he’d let too many of his own loves go, and he didn’t want the reminder.
Maybe it’s because he didn’t want to have to do it again.
He interrupted your thoughts with a light snore, confirming that he had fallen asleep. You chuckled lightly, admiring his relaxed form still tucked into yours.
Reluctantly, you nudged Marcus’s side until he awoke.
“Baby, the movie’s over,” you whispered. “Let’s go to bed.”
He nodded slowly against your chest, letting a yawn overtake his face. “Thanks for watching Casablanca with me. Even if I slept through half of it.”
You smiled as you helped him up. “Of course. Now we can spend the next time we watch it discussing it since I’ll have seen it.”
He murmured a quiet, “Yessssss,” an exhausted grin lighting up his face as he led you to his bedroom. You quickly cleared away the plates from dinner and grabbed your overnight bag before joining him. Marcus sat on the edge of the bed, eyes droopy with sleep.
“‘M tired,” he stated, making you laugh.
“I can see that, baby. Let’s take that flannel off and we can go to bed.”
He complied easily, if groggily, as he shucked the flannel lazily into his hamper and raced to get under the covers. You just smiled, shaking your head at how silly Marcus was when he was exhausted, and loving every moment of how easy and domestic this was.
Soon enough, you were joining him in bed, and almost instantly, he snuggled up against you like you were his center of gravity. His arms wrapped around you, their weight comfortable and safe as they held you against him.
With a soft hum, you reached up to brush some hair out of his face and kissed him lightly. “Goodnight, Marcus. Sleep well.”
“G’night sweetheart. Can’t wait to wake up with you.”
You melted in his arms as he quickly drifted off to sleep. And watching him—his breath slowing, his muscles relaxing as all of the stress in his waking mind faded away—made one thing, one very important thing, incredibly clear in your mind.
You loved Marcus Pike.
But more than that, you knew that it was about time that he knew it, too.
Next
Author’s Note: Have you been wondering when the “sharing a bed” tag would come into play? Surprise, babes! It’s now! (I probably didn’t need to add it until now, haha. I wasn’t planning on taking this long to get here.) (Almost three and a half years. Yikes 😬) This fic was always planned to be smut-free, but that doesn’t mean they can’t literally sleep together.
Lovely people, tysm for thinking of and tagging me even though I wasn’t here a whole lot in the past month. In between vacation and work and other events, I have been writing. Actually, I got kind of possessed with an idea for @the-blind-assassin-12 ‘s writing challenge once it hit me so tysm for the inspo pic, Alyssa! It’s currently sitting at 8k (SORRY) and will likely reach 15k. But it features our boy Marcus P who I haven’t written for in…years. I’ve been having so much fun with the humour and all the tropes I’m squeezing in (oh no only one bed and a meet-awkward rather than a meet cute).
Hope you’re all staying cool in the heat and staying hydrated ☀️♥️
Thank you @sawymredfox @tateypots @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @kokoluwie for the tags these past few weeks! Now that Wildest Dreams is complete, I’m committed to buckling down and completing my unfinished trilogies: Yǒng Yuǎn (forever) [Pero Tovar x Chinese OC!Reader; reincarnated lovers] and The Detective and The Agent [Tim Rockford x fem!reader x Marcus Pike; threesome porn] 🙏🏻🙏🏻 Not sure which one will get finished first, so here are snippets from both ☺️
Pero's POV
“Don’t be sorry,” you chuckle, sitting and grabbing a cookie for yourself, “you’re saving me.”
Your words transport Pero temporarily to those final moments of your previous life together, when you saved him. And he couldn’t save you. That last look of devotion on your face before your body fell limp in his arms, achingly beautiful and still so clear in his mind threatens the corners of Pero’s eyes with fresh tears. He pretends to flip through his notebook, looking for the place he left off in an attempt to calm his fast-beating heart.
As for our threesome, thank you Kate and @time-for-my-weekly-spanking for your encouragement on this post. Here is the moodboard and some 18+ filth (MDNI pls) beneath the cut
Panting, cock drunk and delirious, you still have the wherewithal to remember that Marcus and Tim have yet to come; with what remaining strength you have left, you press your palms flat against the glass and push back into Tim’s increasingly sloppy thrusts, arching your body and presenting a canvas to the men for when inspiration should strike.
“I’m close, baby,” rasps Tim, “Marcus is, too.”
Looking over your shoulder, you take in the younger man furiously pumping his cock and coo into the camera that he’s still holding in his free hand, “Come on me, Detective. Paint me like something you’d admire in a gallery, Agent.”
OK BYE DON'T LOOK AT ME but please share your WIPs if you're so inclined!! NPT: @kedsandtubesocks @milla-frenchy @inept-the-magnificent @peepawmiller @the-blind-assassin-12
Marcus Pike tem cara de quem faz o cafuné mais gostoso do mundo. Do tipo que te faz relaxar e te põe pra dormir em questão de poucos minutos. E acho que ele ama fazer cafuné, acha cafuné um carinho tão gostosinho, faz cafuné na parceira sempre que pode.
E adora receber cafuné também, claro! Marcus ama um cafunézinho na hora de dormir; é algo que faz ele relaxar, deixa ele sonolento. Adora cafuné de manhã cedo, logo depois de acordar — os dois ainda sonolentos, amassadinhos de dormir, e a mão dela ali no cabelo dele fazendo um cafuné gostoso.
E ele ama um cafunézinho durante beijos lentos? Primeiro que ele ama que bote a mão no cabelo dele durante o beijo, aí se faz um carinho então mds ele derrete na hora
Marcus Pike looks like the type who gives the best hair rubs in the world. The kind that makes you totally relax and puts you to sleep in just a few minutes. And I think he absolutely loves running his fingers through your hair; he finds it such a cozy way to show affection, doing it to his partner every chance he gets.
And he loves receiving them too, of course! Marcus loves a little hair rub at bedtime, it’s something that instantly relaxes him and makes him sleepy. He adores it early in the morning, right after waking up - the two of them still groggy, all warm and rumpled from sleep, and her hand right there in his hair, gently massaging it.
And don't even get me started on him loving a little hair rub during slow kisses. First of all, he loves it when you put your hands in his hair while kissing, but if you actually start running your fingers through it, oh my god, he melts on the spot
Marcus Pike tem aquela cara de anjo mas eu acho que esse homem deve ser tão puto entre quatro paredes. Sério. Aquela carinha de santo é pura fachada, os mais santinhos são sempre os mais putíferos. Certeza que o Marcus fode bem demais demais demais. Sem contar que ainda dá o melhor aftercare né. É definitivamente o tipo que faz tu se apaixonar pelo jeito dele de transar, te deixa querendo sempre mais e mais com ele...
Closed Doors diz tudo o que penso sobre Pike
Marcus Pike has the face of an angel, but I think this man must be such a whore behind closed doors. Seriously. That innocent little face is pure cover, the saintly ones are always the absolute sluts. I'm positive Marcus fucks so, so, so well. Not to mention he still provides the best aftercare, right? He’s definitely the type to make you fall in love with the way he grooves, leaving you always wanting more and more of him...
Marcus Pike com certeza é do tipo que ama ficar deitado no meio das pernas da parceira depois do sexo. Ele com a cabeça deitada na coxa dele, nariz enterrado no bush dela, fazendo carinho na barriga dele enquanto ela faz cafuné nele e eles conversam. De vez em quando ele levanta a cabeça só o suficiente pra dar uns beijinhos e mordidinhas na barriga dela, um beijinho na coxa...
Ah, e tá 100% pronto pra chupar ela de novo se ela quiser, claro.
Marcus Pike is definitely the type who loves to lie between his partner's legs after sex. Him with his head resting on her thigh, nose buried in her bush, rubbing her stomach while she runs her fingers through his hair and they talk. Every now and then, he lifts his head just enough to press some little kisses and gentle bites on her stomach, a little kiss on her thigh…
Oh, and he’s 100% ready to eat her out again if she wants, of course
