#praise marcus or whatever
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Sydney Saw it First (c. berzatto x reader)
You’re Carmy’s friend from Noma and he asks tou to mentor Marcus before he heads to Copenhagen to stage. Sydney thinks you’re both fools in love and she’s determined to fix it. (fluff, sydney being the best wingman, inspired by the scene in new girl when nick points his shoes to jess, two fools in love)
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It was hard for anyone to read if the Carmen Berzatto cared.
Some days, he was loving but most days he was tenacious. It’s not like he meant it. It was just how he was wired; how he reacts to things. The crew learned that the hard way, when he exploded on Marcus, when he screamed at Sydney…when the stress gets to him, it really gets to him.
He’s imposed penance on himself for his actions, secluding himself from the world…being unreachable. If there was one thing in the world that he craved and that he was afraid of, it was love. So he secludes himself until he feels alone. Relationships were unnatural to him.
But it came naturally with you.
You were training to become a pastry chef at Noma when Carmy was there. You met each other at the halls, shared friends that it was inevitable for you two to become friends. He was your first taste tester when you first made croissants. He helped you make your own sourdough starter for the sourdough cookies that you were experimenting on. You were the first person whom he cooked his mom’s picatta. You were his sous chef, helping him prep the vegetables on important dates. When news arrived detailing Mikey’s death, you were the first person he called.
You two were great. You were great.
If anyone deserved praise, Carmy thought that it was you.
He didn’t know why but when he saw that Marcus was really interested in pastry, he called you; asked you to come and teach a really, really eager student that was going to stage in Copenhagen soon. Sydney also suggested that sweets are needed in a restaurant. You didn’t hesitate to board the plane upon his request. If anything, you were glad that he was finally asking you for a favor. It only meant that he was still—if not more—comfortable with you.
You arrived in Chicago all smiles, and greetings. It was Richie and Carmy who picked you up from the airport and Richi was floored. How did his cousin even manage to tolerate you? He didn’t hate you immediately, of course. In any case, Carmy told you about his little girl; you decided to bring her a little gift.
“I didn’t know what to get you but Carmy said that you have a daughter so I got this instead,” you said, extending a toy. “My niece has the same one…so, I figured…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Richie nodded. He muttered a small ‘thanks’ before helping you with you luggage.
The night before, Carmy instructed everyone during family to behave.
“Look, there will be no funny business, alright? My friend is flying in tomorrow to oversee Marcus and act as his mentor while we fix the Bear. No taking her knife away, no screaming, no fighting, no fucking anything, alright, chefs?” he asked. When he was met with silence, “Alright, Chefs?”
A couple of ‘heards’ were thrown.
“Who is this friend, anyway, Jeff?” Tina asked. “You didn’t tell us to behave when Sydney over here first came,”
“Someone from Copenhagen. She, uh—“
“She?” Sweeps asked, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. “You got a girl, chef?”
“No,” he replied. “She studied in Copenhagen as a pastry chef, okay? No big deal—“ he proceeds to mention your name and how you’re just really super cool. “No big deal—“
“Wait, Chef, that’s a big deal!” Marcus said. “Oh, you know her recipes are all over my station, right?” he asked. “Sydney—“
“I went to the place she worked at in New York after I graduated. Everything’s just so…good. Amazing,” she recalled. “So, yes, it’s a big deal,”
“Yeah, whatever. Just promise me to behave, alright?” Carmy asked. “She’ll have to make do with what we currently have but I’ll try to stock up and set up the station before she arrives tomorrow.”
-
You arrived at the Beef—er, the Bear a day after your arrival in Chicago. You were able to find a place that was near the city center for a good deal. You were here indefinitely, still trying to figure out if you wanted to run your own bakery or just work with others for the rest of your life. Seeing Carmy take the leap was insipiring.
“Hello, chefs, I’m Y/N,” you said, a friendly smile gracing your features. Carmy was right beside you, watching everyone. “I’m a pastry chef and I graduated with Carmy in Copenhagen. I’m here to mentor Marcus but of course, if you have any questions regarding anything, you can ask me. I know how to cook too…and uh, I’ll be taking care of family tonight,”
Carmy jerks from his relaxed position.
“You sure?” he asks softly. “I can take care of family, if you’re too tired.”
“Yeah. It’s like initiation,” you nod, looking at him and then looking back at the new faces in front of you again. “Do you have any questions…”
Sydney raises her hand.
“Um, I’m sorry if this comes across rude but why are you here?” she asked.
“Oh, well, I’m not really tied down to anything right now. When Carmy called me, asking if I could come here, I decided to go. I’m here in Chicago indefinitely and I’ve been receiving invitations to cook, teach a class, whatever. I might accept some of those,” you said. Sydned nodded. Damn, Noma’s chefs were being chased from left and right. She was in the presence of two.
“Do you have a little notebook?” Tina asked, making Sydney scofd. “With recipes?”
“Um, no,” you shook your head. “I keep all my notes in my head and then write it afterwards,” Tina liked you already.
“What do you think about Carmen Berzatto—“
“Anyway, that’s all, Chefs! Marcus, come to the office with me, chef,” Carmy said, breaking up the huddle, and making you laugh. He discreetly pulls down your shirt, a sign that you should follow him too to the office. When you were both out of earshot, Sydney asked no one in particular.
“That girl and Chef? There’s something,”
That afternoon, during family, Sydney watched the two of you like a hawk. Confirming her suspicions when Carmy stayed for family and sat beside you.
-
Sydney notices it for the second time. You were going over the Noma “picture book” with Marcus, telling him how some of the desserts came about.
“What’s this?” Marcus asked, pointing at a photo of the dessert that put you on the map.
“That’s a dish of candied hallabong peel, with a prosecco peach sorbet, on a bed of meringue, topped with candied cherries. I got it because some of my friends went to Jeju sometime and brought back this orange hybrid. I think….I think we can recreate it but it wouldn’t be the same without the orange.”
“What about the flesh and the juice?”
“I turned it into like an orange-chocolate cake with chocolate mousse,”
Carmy was just passing by but he decided to watch you interact with his employees instead.
“Anyways, where’s your chocolate cake? Let’s taste it and compare it from the last one. Also, I can send you my recipe for sourdough doughnuts. Just give me your email,” you said, looking up briefly to find Carmy already looking at you. It made him feel good to see you incorporate yourself so well in the kitchen. Well, it’s not like the Bear is open but his staff went to you for some tips and advice. They were all undergoing some sort of training to make everything more elevated. “Hey, Carm. Do you need anything?”
“Hey-hey,” he coughed, ashamed for being caught. “Nothing. Uh—“
“Chef, did you ever try Y/N’s stuff?” Marcus asked. He’d really, really, really want to taste something that you made someday. They were all delicate and so detailed. It’s probably why you got multiple awards at such a young age.
“I did. She used to bring big Tupperware containers of things they made in the kitchen,”
“He finished them all,” you told Marcus. “Wouldn’t spare me a bite,”
“I don’t know, bug,” he teased. “I vividly remember you begging me to do it because you were so sick of fucking croissants.”
“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, a playful smile on your face. “Go on now. Marcus and I have stuff to do and you’re distracting us.”
“In my own restaurant,” Carmy mutters, shaking his head. Sydney’s eyes immediately directed to Tina. Did you see? Did you hear the word ‘Bug’?. Tina only shrugged.
-
Sugar dropped in to check on the improvements being done at the Bear when she saw you and Carmen at the back, talking. She had to double take what she saw because it was quite…odd to see him talk to you with the same twinkle he used to have. She has never seen him like this. He was genuinely laughing at some of the things that you were saying, a shared plate of leftover chocolate cake between the two of you.
“Who’s the girl outside?” Sugar asked, looking at Richie and Sydney for answers.
“Some fancy pastry chef Carmy met in Copenhagen,” Richie replied. “It’s a whole bet now, you know? They’re always out in their own world ever since she got here,”
“Everyone puts in 10 to predict what’s going to happen,” Tina said. “You’re betting?”
“Yeah, sure,” Sugar says, giving a bill to Tina. “I bet…I bet they’ll fall in love right before she leaves Chicago. Like, on the way to the airport. Carmy’s going to tell her that he loves her and she stays,”
Laughter echoes in the room.
“This is not some fucking movie, cousin,” Richie said. “Obviously, Carmy’s not gonna do shit about it.”
“I think…she’ll call him over and they’ll share a moment,” Marcus said. “He’s always at her place, did you know that?”
Meanwhile, unaware of the ongoing bet, Carmy looks at you.
“What do you think about Chicago?” he asked, a cigarette hanging idly on his fingers.
“It’s nice…chilly,” you said. “But it’s nice. I’ve been offered jobs here, you know?”
“Hm?” he asked. “Are you planning to take them?”
“I’m…thinking about them. They’re all the same but like, I want my own bakery, you know? My own place.” you said. “It’s going to be a lot of work if I do that and I don’t necessarily have the staff to do all that.” you said.
“If you want…you can come stay with us if you’re not sure,” he offers. “Like a pastry chef. Actually, I’ll have to ask Sugar and Sydney if it’s alright with them but you can stay here,”
“Bear, I don’t want to impose—“
Sydney was walking outside to throw the trash but she stopped her trackes when she heard you talk.
“I want you here,” Carmy said with conviction. “But if you don’t-don’t like it here in Chicago, I wouldn’t mind either, you know? It’s just that…I want you here and-and fuck, I don’t know. I guess working with you made it so much more fun again, you know? Like us in Copenhagen. I mean, we’re always a team and-and it’s nice to have you here with me. Sugar and spice? Sweet and spicy or whatever the fuck they called us back then,” he chuckled, inhaling his cigarette to calm himself down. “We can make it work,”
“Yeah, yeah. You go talk about it to Nat and Syd,” you said, taking a swig of your water. “And then we’ll talk. Cool?”
“Cool,” he shrugged. Sydney leaves and goes back to where the commotion was.
“I change my scenario,” she said.
“You can’t do that, Sydney,” Richie said. “It’s a bet! You have to pay again,”
Sydney breathed, what was ten more, right? Fuck.
“Fuck, sure, okay. Whatever,” she said, giving Richie the bill. “She’ll stay here. She’ll realize the there’s nothing waiting for her back home and she’ll stay here,”
“Where did you get this?” Fak asked. “Quite—oh my God. Sydney, did you fucking cheat?”
“No, I didn’t fucking cheat!” she defended, it was a lie. “Can’t you see the two of them? Always in their own world? How would Carmy let her go?”
“Jeffrey has a point,” Tina shrugged. “But if she loses, just know that you lost twice, Jeff,”
“I know,”
-
You, Sydney, and Carm all went to his apartment. It was where the two of them made a menu while you acted as a consultant and a taste tester. Their palates were fucked and they didn’t know what to do or what to cook anymore. So they asked you. But you weren’t there today. You and Marcus were in your apartment, making up stuff for dessert. The Beef has officially closed down and is a rubbled mess. There was no space and Carmy just wanted to be there with you.
“Can I ask you something and you can tell me to fuck off?” Sydney asked while she watched Carmy plate the hamachi crudo.
“Hm?”
“Do you…have feelings for Y/N?” she asked, looking at Carmy. He blushed, his ears turning red for being caught.
“Is it obvious?”
“To everyone but her,” she shrugged.
“Fuck, really? I thought I was being discreet,”
“Oh, you can stay here! You’re so good and so smart and so pretty,” Sydney gushed, mocking Carmen.
“Fuck off,” he laughs. “I…I do,”
“Yeah?”
“I just…just…she’s uh, so amazing, and like, I’ve been feeling these feelings since…since Copenhagen,” he mumbles, finishing the garnish with an oil.
“Damn. You never made a move?” she asked, getting forks. She gives one to Carmen and they both taste the crudo. It was amazing. “That’s good,”
“It is. Good job, Syd,” Carmy replied.
“It was her who told me to try adding jalapeno slices,” Syd said.
“You can’t do that,” Carmy warned her. Why did she want to get you two together so bad? “But I haven’t done anything. I mean, like, she was dating these guys and they’re so cool that-that it was never really my turn,” he remembered.
“But you’re the best chef in the world! That trumps that,” she encouraged. “None of them worked out?”
“No,” Carmy shook his head. “She’d always end things and I don’t want that for myself. She told me none of them worked out…wasn’t what she was, uh, looking for?”
“Oh,” Sydney nodded. “Well, if you’re feeling brave enough…”
“I haven’t been having…fun,” Carmy acknowledges. “With the Beef and the Bear until she got here, you know? Made me feel like I was young in Copenhagen again,”
“Another question. You can say fuck off if you want,” Sydney says and watches as Carmy bites a smile. “The last one. Is that why you asked her to stay? It’s just that I heard you the other day and…”
“Fuck off,” he laughs but Sydney noticed how everything about him conveyed everything that she needed to know.
-
“This is a quenelle,” you told Marcus. You, Marcus, Carm, and Sydney were at your apartment. It was bigger than Carmy’s and your oven didn’t have jeans in them. “This took me at least a hundred tries,” you chuckled. “You just…away, back, and then hands…” You demonstrated, making a quenelle of a yuzu mousse.
“Damn, Chef. How’d you do that?” Marcus asked, trying it for himself. He failed, his quenelle being a little bit smaller than yours.
“I had a friend named Luca. He didn’t let me out of the kitchen until I made a perfect one,” you recalled. “Carmy was there and he was laughing at me. He could do it in like three tries and I remember hating him,”
“You hate me?” he asked, leaning on the countertop. He didn’t like to hear about Luca. He only wanted you to talk about the two of you.
“Hey, Bear. Try this?” you asked, spooning him the raspberry curd. Carmy opens his mouth and you walk over, feeding him the pinkish liquid and then watching his face. “It goes with a black sesame shell. Do you like it?”
He notices your close proximity and flushes.
“Y-yeah,” he coughed, looking away. “Really good. Uh, very good,”
“No notes?” you asked and he swore he could kiss you right there because you were so beautiful.
“No notes,”
“Thanks, Chef,” you said. Sydney whistles as you help Marcus master his quenelle. Carmy looks at her and she teases him with a mockery of what he just said.
Carmy and Marcus left after cleaning up. You and Sydney decided to have a girl’s night. You were both sitting on the couch, mud masks on your faces when she turned to you fully.
“You know, he likes you right?”
“Who?” you asked, trying to fit a handful of chips.
“Carmy,” you heard and you choked on the bits of chips in your mouth.
“Fuck!” you choked. “Sydney!” You were coughing while Sydney handed you a glass of vodka cranberry. You gulp it down. “You—can’t say shit like that!”
“What?” she laughed. “Look, I’m not kidding! Whenever he talks to you, his feet are pointed at you. I’ve read enough fucking books and body language shit to know that he’s interested,”
“I don’t think so,” you said. “That’s bullshit,”
“It’s not though,” she shrugged. “He asked you to stay for a reason,”
“He needs a pastry chef,” you shrugged. “Besides, he and I are friends, Sydney. I’ve been trying to get him jealous all my time in Copenhagen but he never…he never got the signal,”
“Oh,” Sydney nods. Two idiots in love. “Have you ever tried telling him?”
“Of course not! He’s always on about how he doesn’t have the energy to love or date. I tried the jealousy thing before but it never worked. Trust me, there’s nothing.”
-
Carmy arrives at your doorstep the next morning, bright and early. Sydney had already left, telling you something about stopping by at her dad’s apartment to get stuff. You were going to the Bear with him to help Sydney choose plates for the restaurant.
“Good morning,” he greets. Two cups of take-out coffee in his hands. “I got us some coffee while we walk on the way,”
“Thank you,” You took the cup from his hands and clutched your jacket tighter. It was so, so, so cold. “Didn’t know it was going to be this chilly today,”
“You wanna wear my jacket?”
“You’ll be cold,”
“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, already taking off the jacket to the best of his one-handed ability. He was only wearing a gray sweater underneath. “I have something. See?” He doesn’t take no for an answer, taking your coffee and your bag from you so you could wear the colorful jacket.
“Thanks, Bear,” you said, smiling at him. The sight of you in his clothes does something to him and he couldn’t help except give you a slight nod before forging on in the chilly Chicago weather.
You both entered the Beef giggling amongst yourselves when the usual buzzing stopped.
“Remember when Luca—“
You halted, finding the silence odd. You looked around to see everyone looking at you.
“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Carmy asked, removing his hand from the small of your back. “Syd—“
“Love the sweater,” Richie teases. You look down and feel the warmth on your cheeks.
“It was cold and he asked me to wear it,” you shrugged, leaving Carmen to deal with the staff out front. You were signalling Sydney for help but she only looked away. Traitor. “Um—“
“Y/N, if you could please help me out here,” Carmy called you.
“Your boyfriend’s calling,”
“He’s not!” you huffed before walking over. “What is it?”
“I need you to time me, is that okay?” he asked. He nodded towards the stopwatch and you complied. “Thank you. I just need to check or like, map out the kitchen you know?”
“Of course,” you replied.
“Do you need help getting on—“
“It’s okay it’s just an old thing,” you replied.
“Yo, cousin! If you’re done eye fucking, Sugar needs you.” Richie calls.
“We’re not eye-eye fucking!” you complained. “What the fuck?” You stood up from your corner before you could even work and accidentally looked down. If a man is interested his feet will—
You move to the side and Carmy follows. And then to the side again.
“Y/N–“
“Stay there,” you asked, walking around him and him turning around. “Carm!”
“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders. He looks down to his shoes. “Are my shoes dirty?”
“No, it’s just—“ you tried again but Carm still followed. “Sydney told me about like, how when a guy is, uh,”
“Cousin!”
“Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it later okay? Once everyone’s out?” he asked, looking at you. “Can we do that?” His jacket felt softer on you than it ever did on him.
“Yea-yeah,” you nodded. “I’ll go help Sydney,”
The afternoon passed by and you were alone at The Bear. You waited for Carmen to finish up at the dining area like you promised. Your heart was beating so fast, maybe a thousand miles an hour. What Sydney said has been on your mind and what if it wasn’t true and you get embarrassed? Fuck, could you even handle that?
You sighed, burying your head between your hands when Carmy walks over to you.
“What’s up?” he asked. “Everything alright?”
“Y-yeah,” you nod. “Can you stay there and just, I don’t know, be Carmy?” you asked, standing up to test the theory again. He just stands there, dumbfounded. You circle around him and he follows. You were looking on the ground.
“Fuck, what the fuck?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my shoes? I know they’re old and not—“
“Carmen, shh,”
“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders for the second time that day to steady you. “What’s wrong?”
“Fuck, I don’t—“
“What’s wrong?”
“Sydney told me that there’s like, this body language thing and like, uh, says that when a guy is interested his shoes are always pointing at you and well, she told me to look at yours,” you rambled, looking away in embarrassment. “Look, if this will be weird between the two of us, I mean—“
“Why would it matter?” he asked, hands inching closer to your neck. He was nervous but maybe this is the opening that he’s been waiting for for years. When you didn’t reply, he asked again. “Why would it matter?”
“Because…because I’ve been trying to make you jealous for years in Copenhagen and it never worked,” you whispered. You were embarrassed. It felt like you were in high school telling your crush that you liked him. “I know you don’t see me that way,” you replied, trying to look for the right words. Carmy lets you finish. He wanted to hear you. “And it’s fine. If this is stupid, let’s forget that this ever happened. Okay? God, I’m so fucking embarrassed right now,”
“Hey, hey,” he cooes, his thumb tucked the hair back and then caressed your cheek. “Whoever said that I wasn’t jealous? I had to leave all the time because I was so fucking jealous. Those guys were cool. Don’t-don’t be embarrassed, okay? I like hearing that-you, uh, like me,”
“Carmy…don’t lie to me, okay? You don’t have to pretend—hm,”
Carmy had just kissed you. Carmen Berzatto just kissed you. You were clutching on his shirt so tightly, afraid that if he lets go, he’ll be gone. But he doesn’t. He just trails his hands down to your back, touching skin to skin until you’re one.
“I’ve been waiting years to do that,” Carmy rasps, breathing heavily.
“Yeah? Then, do it again,” you whispered, smirking slightly at how he seemed to blush hard. Before you could tease him though, he tucks your hair back again, bringing your lips closer to his.
He did.
A/N: Thank you for giving my recent fics so much love and for being so motivating. Your kind words really make my day and I hope that you love this too. Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thanks again!
TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto#fanfiction#fluff#the bear#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto x you#the bear fic#carmen berzatto fluff#the bear fx
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[ 𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒; ONE WAY TICKET ]
⚠︎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Smut (18+), Dilf! Aged Up! Friend’s Dad! Mark, Daddy Kink, Blowjobs, Dry Humping, Degradation/Praise Kink
Mark thought he was like you once, shy, timid, unsure. But one singular move proves him completely wrong.
You were introduced to him as his daughter’s friend, the daughter of the couple next door, swinging by for a few weeks before heading back to campus. He gave you a handshake, a polite smile. He thought you were just a little shy when you could barely hold up a conversation with him, only speaking when he asked you something.
Initially, Mark didn’t think anything of it.
He knew you were watching a movie with his daughter, so he went back up to his room, tending to whatever business he needed to. That’s when he thought something of it. He thought about how pretty you are, gorgeous even. Sure you were shy, but he’s sure that some people are like that at your age. He knows he was like that at your age.
Mark’s not blind, he could see right through you from where your eyes subtly darted when he spoke to you. He likes you. Besides being a sight for sore eyes, you’re smart, clever, witty, he sees the way you talk to his daughter. He just wishes that maybe you were a little bolder.
Mark Lee doesn’t make first moves.
That’s when you lied between your teeth to your friend saying you needed to use the bathroom. You didn’t really. You didn’t even know why you even told her that. So, you walked upstairs, hunting for the bathroom when you decided to go…left, right, left…right—you decide to go right. As soon as you do, the bedroom door swings open making you stumble back into a wall. You blink a couple of times.
Oh look, it’s Mr. Lee.
“Holy shit,” he apologizes, his eyes widening in horror. “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
You’re still rapidly blinking, also in horror. “N-No, sorry, Mr. Lee. I- I didn’t mean to, uhm, yeah.”
He’s confused for a second. He glances at the bathroom door. “Were you gonna go in there?”
“Uh-”
“Because, honestly, the toilet’s just kinda like a little-”
Screw it. The next thing you know you’re shoving his chest back into his room. He hums a little in surprise, muttering “What the—?” the moment the door clicks behind you. You’re a little surprised you did that.
He’s a little surprised he let that happen.
You breathe in. “I want to suck your cock.”
What the fuck. You’ve never done this before. Why did you just tell him that? You're only acquainted with Mr. Lee and, to be completely honest, you don’t even remember his first name—John? Marcus? William? You're sure it starts with an M. You’re also sure it’s probably Mark.
Mr. Lee does a double take. “Did you say…?”
You nod. “Yes. I wanna get on my knees and gag on your cock.”
He narrows his eyes down at you.
“Please.” You add, hoping that maybe it’ll convince him.
“Y/n, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he trails off like he’s skeptical. “You’re young, I’m like twice your age..and I don’t think maybe you’d wanna mingle around some guy like me, honey. You should go for someone younger, maybe, closer to your age, y'know live your life.” He continues, “Besides, I’m an adult, you’re probably barely an adult, and I just don’t think you should be getting into adult games you should be getting into young adult things.” His hands are on your shoulders at this point.
Is this man serious? He’s not your dad. “Y’know, Mr. Lee, thank you for the fatherly advice, but, I’d rather you give me life lessons while your cock is in my mouth.”
One of his eyebrows is cocked up, probably in amusement. “Uh-huh…you sure you wanna…”
“Suck your cock? Yes.” you answer immediately. “Please.” You add, again.
“Well,” he shrugs, walking over and sitting in one of his cushioned chairs. “Just tell me if it gets too much for you, honey.” he sighs, pointing for you to sit in-between his thighs—you quickly oblige, getting on your knees in front of him.
You look up at him as you unfasten his belt, pull down the zipper; your fingers reaching for the waistband of his briefs. His voice interrupts your movements, “You sure my kid’s not gonna wonder where you went?” he pries “Whatcha’ gonna do if she comes in to see her pretty little friend gagging on her dad’s cock, hm?”
Fuck you for wearing shorts. You could feel your wetness begin to ooze out of you.
The corner of Mark’s mouth curls up just a little when you don’t respond to him, opting to pull his briefs down lower until his swollen dick slips out, slapped against his stomach. Your lips part in awe, looking at it up and down; your eyes fixate on the white fluid beading at the tip. It’s precum according to Twitter.
Your stomach is doing somersaults. Why did you think you could do this? Why did you think you could fit all of that in your mouth? You have a gag reflex!
Fingers creep through your hair, almost soothing you, messing your hair just a little. “Go on, baby,” he pushes. “Take it just like you told me you wanted to.”
You press an unassuming kiss on the base of his cock first, earning a curse from him.
God you’re such a virgin.
You stick your tongue out, letting it glide from the base up to the precum where you close your mouth around the tip. His fingers in your hair leave your scalp, the fingers wrap around your hair creating a makeshift ponytail, insinuating he wants to have control over her. Maybe he’s holding back.
Yeah Mark is definitely holding back.
If it was anyone else like one of his flings, he would’ve already been far into their throat, shoving his dick in as far as allowed. But he’s not. Because you’re different. He likes you. He definitely likes you. If you were just anyone else he would be less…reserved. He doesn’t want to scare you. He’s refraining himself.
It’s not for long, though. You come to realize that you need more, you want him to teach you about his stupid “adult games”. You use one of your hands to play with his balls and the other to hold onto his calf. You release your hold when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, a.k.a the part you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He twitches in your mouth, while he cusses again, his grip on your hair tightening. You assume you’re into pain by the way your cunt clenches around nothing at the feeling.
Mr. Lee clicks his tongue, the “tsk” he gives is just a little condescending. Using his free hand, he grips your jaw to help you out a bit, easing his dick further into your mouth. “Such a pretty girl with a pretty mouth,” he grins. You take another inch of him, trying your best to use your tongue more than your teeth. You conclude sucking dick might be harder than you thought.
“Look at you, struggling on my dick. Pretty baby’s havin’ a little trouble down there, isn’t she?” he chuckles at the way you glare up at him, all helpless and at his disposal. “Don’t forget to breathe through your nose, baby.”
You try to breathe in, breathing in his scent as you take him deeper, letting him guide you by your hair. You swirl your tongue around his base, emitting soft groans from him. Gosh your jaw hurts. And he hasn’t even hit your throat yet!
He groans, loudly. “Fuck, I love your little—shit—You ever had a cock in your mouth, baby?”
You don’t answer, his hold on your jaw tightens. “Answer me.”
Tears are forming in your eyes as you shake your head. You pull back a little only to plunge his cock farther, his pubes tickling your nose just a little.
“Good girl,” he praises, your chest swells with pride. “Such a smart girl, aren’t you?”
You’re so wet now, you’re desperate. You bob your head, tears becoming more prevalent in your eyes everytime he hits your throat. He smiles, using his thumb to wipe away your tears while still holding your jaw.
You finally have the courage to look up at him, seeing how large he appears from this angle. He’s got a small smirk on his face, a strand of his greying hair fallen on his forehead.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Look at how fuckin’ gorgeous you look,” He praises, now rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “You’re such a slut too, beggin’ to suck your friend’s dad’s cock. You love my cock, don’t you?”
You whine around his dick, gasping when he yanks you by the hair to pull out. He’s looking at you expectantly. A smirk plastered on his face. You bite your lip, nodding your head eagerly. “Yes!” you cry “Yes, sir!”
He’s immediately satisfied, plunging your mouth back straight to his dick. This time, you hollow out your cheeks, sliding your mouth even further and backwards. His hips thrust upwards, clutching your hair harshly as he uses your mouth. “Such a good girl for me, baby, fuck. Baby knows how to use her mouth for some good, huh?”
His praise makes you hum around his shaft. Though, a part of you feels just a little jealous he’s been with other people. Not to mention the fact that he’s clearly had a wife.
Mr. Lee’s dick hits the back of your throat making you gag around him. “Thaaat’s my little slut,” he groans out. “Gag on my dick like I know you wanna.”
You do as you’re told, letting his cock slide into the back of your throat over and over again. You feel him twitch inside you, his hips beginning to stutter.
He cusses again, “M’gonna cum, baby,” he pants “M’gonna cum down your throat, and you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, aren’t you?” he chuckles. “You’re gonna take it just like you wanted, pretty girl.”
You whine around his cock. He smiles.
Mr. Lee is beyond pleased. Good.
“Fuuuck,” he lets out a long drawl before he shoots his cum straight down your throat. Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head at the feeling. He yanks you off his dick, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick. “Swallow it all.”
You oblige. Looking up at him when you’ve taken everything. “I’ve never done that before.” you timidly admit.
He scrunches his nose at you, his eyes still hooded. “Lying is a bad, bad thing to do, little girl.”
You pout, “I swear!”
“Then you’re very good at it,” he holds your jaw again, his thumb parting your lips. “You ever been kissed before?”
“Once or twice.” you murmur, a little ashamed.
He gives you a little smile, his lips now touching—kissing yours. You whine against him, your hand resting on his thigh. He grins against your lips, reaching down to pick you up and place you on his thigh. You’re pretty sure he can taste his cum now that his tongue made its way inside.
Something possessed you when you were straddling his thigh, the next thing you knew, you were rubbing your cunt on his leg.
Mr. Lee chuckles softly, watching you in complete amusement as you humped his thigh. You’re so sensitive from rubbing your thighs together that you’re such a whiny mess on him. Yes, you still need to get back to your friend (his daughter), but yes—you feel too good to do so.
He keeps you secure, his hand still on your waist as he watches you use his thigh to your heart's content, moaning and whining out just for him. You don’t even care that you’re leaving a damp spot on his stupid trousers. “Get off on my thigh, you poor baby, you need to cum so badly, don’t you?”
You sob, his hand on your waist comforting you. “Please,” you begin to beg, “J-Just wanna cum, Daddy, please~”
That’s the exact moment his grasp on your waist tightens, his already dark eyes grow darker. “Good girl,” he praises, his heart swollen from pride by the name you called him. “Such a good girl making yourself cum all over Daddy’s thigh.”
You cry out, your body shuddering and clinging onto the man for dear life. As if you could get any closer to your orgasm, he continues.
“That’s why you need me, huh, you need a fuckin’ Daddy.” he groans “None of these boys, lousy little inexperienced college boys. Do they bother you, baby? Is that why you come to me to get off? You come to me to guide you? Why you need your Daddy?”
A loud moan leaves your lips, “Yes, yes, yes, Daddy! T-That’s why I need you, need y-you so…so bad!”
“Good baby,” he coos, drawing out the “O” as he lifts your flimsy shirt above your head, pushing your bra out of the way, pinching your nipples. “Cum. Cum for Daddy, sweetheart.”
Your limbs turn all jelly-like, and the next thing you know you’re like a puddle in Mr. Lee’s arms. Screaming and crying as your body spasms with nothing but pleasure, it’s like you’re seeing stars. You can barely hear him praising you endlessly as you cling onto him. You’re a hundred percent sure you’re sobbing tears.
He’s got a shit eating grin on his face as he takes you in. His finger dipping in your shorts to find the slick that’s gushed out of you, holding it to his mouth to taste. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles to himself as his eyes shoot to your tits then right back at your face. “Pull your shirt down, baby.” The smile never leaves his stupid face. “And fix your cute little bra.”
Your face is on fire. You glare at him, fixing your bra. This man can’t be real.
You’re both just staring at each other now, not really paying any mind to the time or anything else, really. But, the clock on his wall is like a slap in the face. You sigh. “I- I should really go.”
Mr. Lee looks at his watch. He sighs, “Guess so, baby.”
You place a kiss to his cheek and throw him a demure smile when you pull away. “You know where to find me.”
He rolls his eyes at you before grabbing your face, kissing you right on the lips. He pulls away. “Dunno ‘bout that honey,” he teases.
“Then maybe open your window later for a little something, Daddy.” you tease back.
You both realized your rooms’ windows face eachother.
Perfect.
“Maybe I will.”
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, biting back another smile. “See ya, Mr. Lee.”
“Later, gorgeous.”
You leave his room, closing the door behind you with an ear-to-ear grin on your face. Before you know it you’re lying to your friend again about how sick you feel, saying you need to go home.
On your way up to your room, you’re mouthing “Mark” until you open your window. Your face heats up when his window is already wide open, he’s already there giving you one of his shit-eating grins.
You beam back at him. Luckily, you managed to get his number from his daughter. You call him. He looks at you questionably, but picks up, amused.
“Hey there, old man.” you taunt.
“You really shouldn’t have came into my room, honey.”
“Really? Why not?” you pout.
“Being with your friend's dad really isn’t good for you.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “And how do you know what’s good for me Mr. Mark ‘know it all’ Lee?”
“Cause' I’m older.” he extends his arms, stretching “Got more life experience.”
“So,” you prod. “Whatcha’ gonna do about it, hm?”
“Knock some sense into you.”
“Uh-huh,” you raise your eyebrows. “How do you plan on doing that, exactly?”
His eyes never leave yours. “You’ll see.”
★ Adult Games | A “One Way Ticket” work | wc: 2.6k
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©earth-to-that-asian/mull3ts, 2023
#nct smut#nct dilf#mark smut#mark lee smut#nct mark smut#nct 127 smut#nct smut imagines#nct dream smut
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Mother Knows Best
Marcus Pike x female reader
Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: E for Explicit! 18+
Word Count: 17.5k
Warnings: Food/alcohol, meddling mama, cursing, reader is an unapologetic nerd, flirting with books, BDSM mention (but no portrayal), vagina sex, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise and a little dirty talk.
Summary: Marcus Pike's mother has a tendency to overstep a little. While she means well, any time she has ever tried to set him up it has always turned out terribly. This time, though, she's pretty sure she has it right when she arranges for Marcus to go on a blind date with the youngest member of her book club.
Notes: This all kind of sprang out of a TikTok I found about a bookshop date idea. And I'm not sorry about it in the least. Also, subtle shout out to my brother-in-law's band is buried in conversation 🎶
"Marcus sweetie, what are you doing on Saturday?" Donna Pike is pulling weeds in her garden with her younger son in a lounge chair nearby, and she tries to make the question as nonchalant as possible. It's Sunday now and she might as well be asking what he wants for dinner. Although her idea of what he might be doing for dinner on the night in question is almost definitely different than whatever Marcus might have in mind. He has been back in Washington D.C. for almost four months and has spent the whole time sulking – something that no mother likes to see.
Marcus is probably more relaxed than he's been in a few months. Finally deciding that he is better off without Teresa since she would rather be with someone else more than him. His eyes half closed as he holds his beer, he answers without even thinking about it. Or why giving his mother an empty day without plans wasn't a good idea. "Nothing." He hums, smiling slightly at the thought of not having any work or responsibilities.
"Oh?" Donna smirks, glancing over her shoulder to see Marcus has his eyes shut as he sits in the sun. "No dinner plans? Drinks with coworkers?" She asks carefully, keeping her tone breezy as she weeds the tomato bed.
"Not a damn thing." He admits again, not seeing the smirk on his mother's face, otherwise alarm bells would be sounding in his head. Instead, he's plotting what he will do with his day off. Hopefully sleeping until ten is the first thing on the list. Then he might take a book out to the Mall lawn and read in the sun. Pick up one of those touristy drinks to sip on as he does.
"So..." Training one eye on him as she pulls another weed up from the root, Donna's lip curls into a smile. "You would be free for dinner, then?"
"You want me to take you to dinner?" Marcus's father passed nearly eight years ago and when he could, he would take his mother out to a nice dinner. Making sure that she felt special. "Sure."
"Not exactly what I had in mind, sweetie." Donna is all-out grinning at this point, and maybe even a little evilly. "Do you remember my telling you about a new girl joining our book club? She works with Marjorie Klein at the Library of Congress?" Every time Marjorie talked about her new colleague it seemed like the younger woman would be a perfect fit for their group, so six months ago they had offered up the empty spot at their table. Now, every time Donna Pike sees or hears from you, she seems to become more and more convinced that you would be perfect for her youngest child.
"Mom...no." Marcus shakes his head and immediately drowns the rest of his beer bottle and desperately wishes another would appear. "No, no, you aren't setting me up, again."
"But Marcus she's such a good match!" She won't say 'perfect' because that will make Marcus revolt and probably run away screaming. But she has such a good feeling about this one. "And I might have already scheduled the date with her..." Might is such an innocent lie. She definitely already scheduled the blind date with you after giving you a few background details on her baby boy.
“Mooooooooooom.” The sigh Marcus gives is one of extreme frustration. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but no. I can get my own dates.” The truth was, his mother had horrible taste in choosing women that she thought Marcus would be interested in.
"Oh yeah?" Donna tucks her proverbial tongue securely in her cheek. "Is that why you've been hanging around your old Ma's house so much the last few months? Because you're so good at getting your own dates?" She tilts her head at him and waves one hand, dismissing the tease immediately. "She's sweet, Marcus. And so smart. You don't have to marry the girl, but it's hard to get back out there sometimes. Just...give it a try?"
“It’s— I just got out of that thing with Teresa, Ma.” He reminds her and notices the expectant look on his mother’s face. She’s well meaning, really she is, but god does she meddle. “You already told her I would go out with her, didn’t you?”
“The thing with Teresa was months ago.” Donna’s grin spreads like wildfire. “She’s a nice girl and I called in a favor to get you a table at Founding Farmer’s because I know you like to keep the first date kind of casual.” Something she considers a mistake, but she knew that if she had gone and made a reservation somewhere more upscale then Marcus would squawk.
“Jesus Christ.” Marcus groans, slapping his hand over his face and imagining how boring and completely incompatible this woman is for his mother to talk about how nice and sweet she is. All the other girls she has tried to hook Marcus up with since he was a teenager have been a train wreck. “What time?” He sighs, resigned to his Saturday being ruined.
“Seven-thirty.” Crows his mother, who definitely made sure that the reservation was early enough in the night that they could do something else afterward. “I really think you’re going to like her, sweetie.”
He thinks he’ll be wasting an hour of his life but he grunts in response, already dreading Saturday.
******
You’re probably taking this far too seriously, all things considered. The book club of mostly middle-aged and older ladies that you had been offered a place in by one of your coworkers has been really nice. Everybody sits around and drinks and gossips about the book characters like they’re real people, and there is always good food. You like the ladies in the book club, you really do. But this whole idea of a blind date with Donna Pike’s son has you nervous for some reason.
Blind dates don’t typically go well for you but you’re honestly kind of desperate. It’s been nearly a year since your last date that even qualifies as mediocre and at this point you would say yes to just about anyone halfway decent. And with that in mind, you kiss your cat goodbye and smooth one hand down your floral sundress before slinging on your leather jacket to keep out the autumnal chill. If nothing else, maybe you’ll have a nice meal tonight.
Marcus sighs as he checks his reflection in the mirror one more time. He had opted to leave the suit at home, but couldn’t dress down completely casual. The restaurant that his mom had chosen would be nice enough that slacks, a polo and a sports coat wouldn’t look too out of place. Despite his reservations, he is wanting to make an effort. He sniffs his cologne to make sure he didn’t douse himself and picks up his keys. Off to see what a nightmare this would be, although he hopes that this girl won’t throw a glass of wine in his face when he reveals he’s a federal agent.
Founding Farmer’s is bustling when you arrive, packed to the gills and you wonder if the younger Pike brother thought to make reservations. For now you adjust the (admittedly cheesy) flower in your jacket lapel and slide over to the bar to order a cocktail. If he stands you up, you at least want to have a drink in hand to soothe the embarrassment.
There had been a fierce internal debate on if he should stop outside the little flower stand that was just a block down from the restaurant to buy some flowers. Romantic Marcus would do it, and even though he had not asked this girl out, she deserves the niceties that had been bred into him after watching his father continuously court his mother through their marriage. When he enters the door of the Founding Farmer's, he can see why he had to park two blocks away and is grateful that his mother had made reservations. "I— I have a reservation. Marcus Pike." He tells the frazzled hostess. "But I'm waiting for someone...." He cranes his neck to look around, not sure exactly who he is looking for. His mother had been very vague with the physical description, which doesn't help on a blind date.
You hear him before you see him — sitting just a few feet behind the hostess stand is strategic, and you hear him give his name. The most careful sneak of a peak nearly has your jaw on the ground and you sit straight up again immediately. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely drop-dead movie star level gorgeous. And he’s carrying flowers identical to the one tucked into your jacket, making you smile unexpectedly. “Marcus?” You turn slowly on your stool, hoping you’re not about to make an idiot of yourself.
He hears his name and looks around again, his eyes searching until they fall on a lovely looking woman wearing a pretty sundress and jacket. A flower in her lapel in a move that immediately makes him grin at the old-style charm of the gesture. He nods and says the name his mother gave him, finding himself hoping that you are that person.
“That’s me.” Sliding off of your stool with your glass in hand, you put out your other hand to him and smile. His mother absolutely failed to mention that her son is an absolute dreamboat. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I feel like I’ve heard a hundred stories about you and your brother already.”
You're pretty. Maybe it's shallow, or vain even, but Marcus had been worried when his mother had focused so hard on how nice and sweet you are. He's not the type of man who insults someone because of their looks, but physical attraction is a basic for any romantic relationship and some of the women who would be just ‘perfect’ for him in his mother's eyes didn't fit in any of the categories. Not even intellectually. He shakes your hand firmly and smiles. "It's all lies, I swear." He jokes, offering you the flowers. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage because I know your name and that you are sweet."
"The ladies in the book club sort of adopted me." The flowers are beautiful, and fresh, and you inhale the scent happily as the hostess leads you to a small, secluded table in the corner. "And I..." You laugh self-consciously, shrugging a little. "I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with this. It was all Donna's idea. So if we don't get along or something, it's no hard feelings."
"I have to apologize." Marcus shakes his head, enjoying the sounds of your light, nervous laugh. "My mother likes to meddle, so if you weren't actually interested, I will understand." He moves to pull out your chair for you when the hostess indicates the table and looks at you expectantly. It's your choice if you wish to sit down or not.
Maybe it's shallow – to take one look at him and know for sure that you're at least going to ride out this dinner to see what he's like. But then, isn't that what blind dates are, at least a little? Judging a book by its cover and then taking a peek to see what's inside? "I think it would be a shame to miss out on making a new friend, even if that's all this amounts to," you tell him as you sit down.
He can agree with that, admire it even. Smiling again and he wonders if that's all this will amount to. "What are you drinking?" He asks, nodding towards your glass that you had brought from the bar.
"It's called a Farmer's Daughter," you tell him, holding up the half-drunk glass of delicious fruity-boozy goodness. "Vodka, lime, passion fruit, raspberry...something else that I didn't know what it was so I can't remember what it's called. Domaine de something?" Shrugging shelf-consciously, you offer him the glass to try a sip. "It's fantastic."
It's charming the way you offer him a drink. He takes it and tries a small sip. "That's good." He agrees. "I was going to suggest a bottle of wine, but perhaps another of these?" He asks you.
The hostess nods and disappears after leaving your menus, and you sit back in your seat a little bit more comfortably than before. "This place has their own spirits. It seemed too good to pass up, and turns out that was the right choice." A small smile plays on your lips and you really don't know where it's coming from but you feel strangely confident tonight. "So you're usually a wine guy?"
“I am.” He nods, knowing that he would happily split a bottle with good conversation and laughs. “Are you more of a cocktail girl?”
"Usually." Again, you shrug, but offer him a smile. "But only because I know nothing about wine. I'd like to learn, if I found that I knew somebody who wouldn't mind teaching me."
“Well, if you like, we can have one more of those delicious cocktails and I’ll order a bottle of my favorite wine for you to try?” He offers. “Or perhaps just a glass to share, and if you don’t like it, we can explore what you do like?”
"That sounds like fun, actually." Normally when a guy offered to 'teach' you something it was just him insisting that he knew all the best of something or had every fact memorized. Marcus isn't like that and you relax just a little bit more with this discovery. A little bit of sharing and get to know you is perfect for a first date.
“Yeah?” He grins and nods, admiring your sense of adventure and that smile that you are giving him. “Okay, so the wine I like is kinda of dry, a red. That sound okay?”
"Sure." You agree brightly, basically up for trying whatever he suggests. "Like I said, I know nothing about wine. You could be ordering the stuff that comes in a box and I would just trust you that it's good."
He laughs, enjoying your honestly. “No boxed stuff, I promise.” He tells you and thanks the waiter when he comes back with your cocktail. “I’m sorry, but could we also have a glass of the Marqués de Riscal Rioja Reserva 2012?” He asks with a small shrug. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted, and now I do.”
Oblivious to the fact that that could have been an entendre, the waiter just nods and walks away, leaving the two of you alone at your cozy table again. "So..." you can't help the way your cheeks have gotten a little warmer in the last few seconds. "Is there anything you would like to know about me up front? You said your mother didn't tell you much."
“She did tell me that you work at the Library of Congress.” Marcus nudges the new drink towards you and takes the half finished one. He’s already drank after you, so it’s nothing to him. “So what do you do there?”
"I am a preservationist in the Children's Literature Center." Your work is delicate, and it is important, but some people find it unbelievable that your entire career is dedicated specifically to kids' books. "I'm part of the team that is digitizing rare children's books so that their contents will never be lost."
“Wow.” He’s impressed, knowing that is important work. Literature sound be preserved for the future generations to enjoy, much like art. “That’s— that’s gotta be pretty interesting day in and day out.”
“It’s no game of cops and robbers.” His mother had bragged about his promotions more than once, and you can’t help but smirk slightly when his ears turn red. “But I keep busy.”
“So you know that I’m a federal agent?” He asks, not sure what all his mother had rambled on about. Knowing her, she had told you about every girlfriend he had.
“Yes. Donna is extremely proud of you, so we all heard all about the last promotion.” Taking a sip of your drink, you feel just a touch of warmth is your cheeks that is all attraction and not from the cocktail at all. “Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thank you.” He bites his lip, caught between being embarrassed his mom was talking him up and enjoying the congratulations. The joy of his success has been sucked away by the Teresa thing, but he’s been trying to get back on track. “She’s just happy I’m close.”
“She’s very glad you’re home.” You can absolutely attest to that. It’s sweet, actually. They clearly get along well. “It sounds like if she could get your older brother to move back, she’d be in heaven having you both here.”
“Don’t think he’ll be moving to D.C. anytime soon.” Marcus admits. “But she’s happy to get out of the cold to go visit him during Christmas.”
“Louisiana always sounded like fun to be. Like a completely different world from anywhere else.” Probably that thought comes from having grown up in the thick of the Canadian border, but still. It seemed romantic to think about. “She said he’s in New Orleans?”
“Yeah.” He nods and grins. “He keeps telling me to come down for Mardi Gras.”
“Sounds like fun.” He has just one perfect dimple and you swear this is the first time you’ve understood why anyone would swoon. “Are you liking being back in DC, at least?”
“What’s not to love?” He asks, looking up again when the waiter returns with the glass of wine. “The museum, the Mall, the historic sites. I love walking through the Smithsonian.”
“I will absolutely drink to that,” you agree without hesitation. “This city is pretty much perfect as far as I’m concerned.”
He hums as he hands you the glass. “Try a sip of this, it’s dry but floral. I love this with a good cheese board.”
“A charcuterie guy, too? Nothing I love more than Adult Lunchables.” The grin on your face grows as you take the glass, giving it a sniff like you have any idea whatsoever what to look for, and take an adventurous sip. “Ooh that’s…I don’t know what I was expecting but that’s great. It’s like…it’s rich but it’s not heavy, if that makes sense?”
He nods and grins at you. “Now, imagine it with a funky cheese and a tart grape. Or a salty cracker.” He tells you, proud that you enjoy it. “Maybe a glass with dinner?”
“Absolutely.” It’s like a wake up for your senses, and even though you enjoy the sweet cocktail that you had ordered initially, the wine sounds like a decadent and very mature option for dinner. “Do you have any idea what you’ll order for food yet?”
“I figured I was going to order the braised short ribs with wilted summer greens and braised carrots.” He tells you, having looked at the menu before he ever arrived.
“Sounds pretty perfect.” When the waiter comes back you fill out your order, getting a basket of the kettle corn that the waiter gushes over to start with and ordering your dinners with another glass of wine so you can both indulge a little as you get to know each other.
“So, were you as nervous about tonight as I was?” The wine is being passed back and forth between you as your cocktail has been abandoned. He takes a sip and raises a brow at you in challenge.
"Terrified," you admit with a small laugh, but there is no point in trying to act smooth or more charming than you are. You're a slightly awkward person in general, and sometimes that can be charming all on its own. Or so you've been told. "I'm not...great at dating. Then the book club ladies took it upon themselves to figure out whose son was closest to my age and, well...here we are."
He laughs at the image you paint, all the ladies tossing out their eligible sons’ birthdays like trading cards. “Well, hopefully, you are enjoying yourself.” He offers with a grin, setting his elbows on the table and leaning in. The liquor and wine are loosening him up slightly, but it’s more that he’s enjoying conversing with you. Something he’s really missed about dating or being in a relationship with someone.
"I really am." His laugh is deep and rings in his chest, making his smile a little broader every time and making you wish that you had thought of something compelling or deeply interesting to tell him about yourself before setting foot in this restaurant tonight. But you had feared the worst, and expected the mediocre, so maybe that was the entire reason you found yourself enjoying this night? Simply by being handsome, intelligent, charming, and interesting, he was already blowing every single expectation you had out of the water. "Hopefully you are, too?"
“I am.” He gives you a small, self-conscious shrug. “My mother doesn’t have the best record when it comes to setting me up.” He admits. “The last one was a part of some antigovernment group and threw a glass of wine in my face when she found out I was, quote, a ‘fed pig’.” He tells you with the air quotes.
“That…” It takes a beat of extreme self-control not to laugh at how ridiculous that is, but you manage to keep yourself together. “Please say she didn’t know that this girl was anti-government when she set you up?”
“She had met her in her favorite bookstore.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Didn’t have a clue but she had to find another bookstore because it was the girl behind the counter.”
“But she tries to find you girls that read, huh?” That encourages you a bit. That Donna considers her son that intelligent. After all, he can’t be a slouch – not in art crimes. He has to at least have a little history and culture under his belt.
“I don’t want to always talk work, or politics.” He admits. “She had raised me to love reading and I’m forever grateful for that.”
“What do you like to read?” The question is automatic for you – something that you always ask new acquaintances and especially dates. It’s an important part of getting to know someone. “Personal curiosity as well as professional. I promise.”
“I can read anything.” Marcus tells you. “But, I spend so much time reading reports that I really enjoy fiction. Thrillers, intrigue. Even the odd romance novel.” He blushes when he admits that but he’s not going to lie.
“A good romance novel is entirely underrated. They’re great character studies. Plus?” You grin and pick up a piece of popcorn. There are only a few left in the basket and you’re enjoying the salty-sweetness with his dry wine. “Anyone who claims they don’t enjoy love stories is either lying or a bummer.”
“It’s like not liking classic movies.” He agrees with a grin. “I feel like some of the emotion has been lost. You give me Casablanca any day and I’ll show you a movie that is about loss as much as it is love.”
“I dumped a guy once for not liking classic movies,” you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. “He said that black and white was dumb because life is in color so ‘why weren’t all movies?’ And that all the stories were too trope-y. Can you believe that? Where did he think the tropes came from in the first place?”
“They are the model for the tropes.” He chuckles. “We had a class when I was in high school where you read classic literature and watched classic movies. I think it should be standard around the country. It helped shape my love of black and white movies.”
“I used to watch them with my mom whenever I was home sick.” Those memories are still so vivid for you, and precious. It had felt like a personal insult and not just a preference when the previous guy had talked down about classic cinema. “She got to see Katharine Hepburn in Coco in New York City when she was little and just worshipped her ever since. So, of course, I did too. And we would just watch everything we could get our hands on.”
“Oh wow.” Marcus is impressed and he shows it. “It would have been something, I’m sure.” He agrees. “I’m not all classical though. I like a good mix of modern as well. My old band used to play in Texas and I would go see them.”
“That’s right.” Donna had told you all about his band, of course, but it had slipped your mind while you got distracted over how attractive Marcus is. “Bass player, right?”
“Yeah.” He huffs out a small laugh, wondering if his mother had complained that he hadn’t wanted to cut his hair when he was playing, or if she was bragging. “And some vocals. Mainly backup.”
“Don’t downplay it.” You grin, watching his cheeks turn pink yet again. “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. And getting on stage? I think I’d panic. That’s something you can be really proud of.”
“It’s not that bad.” Marcus tells you. “Just pick the prettiest girl and imagine them – uh –” he falters for a second. “Kissing you.” He supplies.
“Is that how you get past stage fright?” You have definitely never heard of that particular tactic before and you nearly giggle with how embarrassed Marcus looks admitting it. “Seems like we ought to get you back on stage then, shouldn’t we? That’s a very nice fantasy to let yourself play out.”
“Nahhh it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a stage.” He admits. “I like to just drink a beer and dance with the pretty girl.”
“Oh yeah?” The impulse to insinuate yourself into that situation is deep but you just smile, knowing very well that your cheeks and ears are burning with the thought. “Sounds…pretty perfect.”
“Yeah?” He grins and there’s a partial idea forming for later tonight if the rest of dinner goes like it is now. “Does it sound good to you?” He asks. “What’s your ideal date?”
“I—” Clearing your throat slightly, your skin burns even more. “Dinner and dancing, probably? Or going to see a screening of an old movie together.” Taking a sip of the wine before you hand it back to him, you brace yourself for the tingle you’ve been getting whenever your fingers brush. “I saw a TikTok the other day of a bookstore date, too. That looked fun.”
“A bookstore date?” He’s intrigued on that what that would entail. He leans in and snags the wine glass to take another sip. He should really order another glass so you each have your own, but there is something oddly fun about sharing. “Tell me about that.”
“It’s silly.” But somehow, you think he might like silly. “There’s this list of prompts. And you roll a die to see which prompt you get and you’re supposed to go all over the bookstore looking for a book to read that fits the prompts. It’s…to a librarian it sounds fantastic…choosing books for each other and having an automatic something to talk about on the next date, ya know?”
“That sounds like a great date.” Marcus agrees, liking the adventurousness of it. “A really good date. Maybe even you have to call the other person to read them a portion of the book that appeals to you.”
“I haven’t had anybody read to me in ages…” You can feel how soft you get in response to the idea but you just can’t seem to care. Every few minutes Marcus Pike seems to get more and more perfect. “That sounds absolutely dreamy.”
“You haven’t?” He’s surprised at that, and then there’s a little fantasy that plays out in his head. Calling you every night that he could and reading a few paragraphs to you while you are snuggled in your bed. “Maybe that will change.” He hums.
"I think I'd like that." The way he says it makes you feel so hopeful, like maybe this night is going as well for him as it is for you, and you bite your lip to hold back a full-force grin. "I think I'd like that a whole lot."
Marcus actually hates when the waiter comes back to order the meals, allowing you to order first and he puts in his order for his own meal and asks for another glass of wine. “Do you want one, or do you want to keep sharing?”
"I'm not going to lie, I kind of like the sharing," you admit with an embarrassed grin. This waiter just smiles politely and steps away, having seen plenty of good and bad dates over his career and not really thinking anything of the request.
“I like it too.” He admits with a matching grin. “Although if we order dessert, we’ll need to change to different wine.” He tells you.
"Ah, so my education continues?" He wouldn't have brought it up if he wasn't thinking about it in the back of his mind, and that makes your smile grow. "I know I've seen Dessert wines listed on menus before but other than knowing they exist, I don't think I could name anything else about them."
“They are sweeter, crisper.” He tells you. “Meant to enhance the flavor of the desserts. We will have to see if we have room.” He grins. “My sides are meant to be shared.”
“Maybe we’ll have to come back?” You venture, hopeful at the idea that tonight is going well enough to lead to a second date.
“It is a very good wine list.” He tells you with a grin. “Although there’s this little place down near the Potomac that is a wine bar paired with your – what did you call it? Adult Lunchables?” He tilts his head. “I think you might like that.”
The fact that he picks up on the thread immediately makes you flush warm again and grin so broadly that your cheeks ache. “It sounds perfect,” you admit. “Although I think Donna might float just a little if she finds out we’re planning date number two before the entree is even served on date number one.”
“We don’t have to tell her.” His own grin turns slightly mischievous. “Let her dangle for a bit before we let her know about that. It’ll drive her crazy.”
"You know I'm going to get just as many voicemails as you, right?" The devilish smile highlights his dimple far too perfectly and just about has you swooning, but you manage to keep it down to just a girlish giggle. "Are you going to be a bad influence on me, Marcus?"
“Depends on what you think is bad.” Marcus quips, winking at you as he leans back. You are charming, funny, sweet. All things that his mother had noted but he’s also attracted to you. And thoroughly enjoying this date.
Confidence looks very fucking sexy on him, and you end up leaning forward instinctively when he leans back, like he's pulling a string somewhere inside your ribcage when he goes. "Maybe I like bad. And I'm just making sure I'm going to enjoy myself?"
There’s a split second where Marcus has a choice on if he’s going to make a dirty innuendo, just like you have. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.” He promises, that grin turning slightly salacious. “Multiple times.”
He knows full fucking well what he’s doing, and the poorly timed sip of wine you have just taken nearly comes out your nose when you quickly cover your mouth with one hand to keep from spitting it everywhere or even choking on it. “Guarantee, huh?” When you can breathe again and don’t have wine in your mouth anymore, you manage to raise one steady eyebrow at him. “You’re a very confident man, Agent Pike.”
“It’s a money back kind of thing.” He teases, enjoying the easy banter and the fact that you are leaning into the atmosphere rather than getting offended by it.
“Oh, I see.” You tease right back, loving the freedom in the atmosphere between you. “So I’m investing in my future enjoyment?”
“Exactly.” He hums, nodding in an exaggerated manner. “You understand perfectly.”
******
“I don’t think I can do it,” you groan playfully, looking over the empty plates of the amazing dinner you just shared and knowing that dessert would have disastrous consequences. “I think I might pop like a balloon.”
“It was a lot of food.” Marcus admits, his own stomach edging just on the cusp of being overly full. “Plus the wine. So I don’t think I can make room either.” He sighs and leans back to rub his belly just to tease.
“It’s a good thing it’s a beautiful night for a walk.” The thought had been brewing for a while, and you offer Marcus a hopeful smile. “Only if you’re up for it, of course.”
“Absolutely.” The check is discreetly placed by his elbow and he shakes his head when you move to your purse. “This is my treat.” He insists, pulling out his wallet and putting his credit card down without glancing at the bill.
“Then next time will be mine,” you insist, having a feeling that Marcus is not at all the kind of guy to let that fly, but at the same time you have to wonder when the last time was that he allowed anyone to take care of him.
He hums, not agreeing or disagreeing. “So, where would you like to walk?” He asks. “There’s a lot of little shops and bars nearby.”
Pennsylvania Avenue is certainly lively, and since you had taken the Metro you don’t particularly care what direction you head in. “We could always head toward the Mall and let ourselves get distracted along the way?” You suggest, wanting to leave the night wide open for anything or everything.
“That sounds good to me.” Marcus brought his car, but the neighborhood is relatively safe and the parking isn’t by the hours. “Do you have comfortable enough shoes on?” He hadn’t noticed your footwear, but he wants to check.
“I’m not really a heels kind of girl,” you admit, hoping that that won’t break some kind of weird unconscious rule he has in his head. You’ve been told before that you should dress more femininely but the idea that high heels are the only feminine footwear seems utterly ridiculous. “And I’m always up for a walk.”
“That’s good.” He chuckles and when both of you stand from the table he kicks out a foot and shows his comfortable loafers. “I have to wear dress shoes at work, but I’m never going to bash comfortable footwear.”
“I learned a long time ago that knee-high boots go with almost any dress or skirt.” You take his arm when he offers it – very gentlemanly – and before you know it you’re out in the crisp night air. The moon is high and the streetlamps are bright, and you sigh a little contentment. Tonight is so, so much better than you thought it was going to be.
“That sigh is either a very good sign or a bad one.” He teases, looking over at you with a playful grin. “Can I ask which?”
“It’s good, I promise.” And as if to prove you, you send him a beaming smile. “I was just thinking how nice the night is, that’s all.”
“It is a nice night.” Marcus agrees. The air has just a bite to it without being bitter and yet it is still cozy. The dark night is illuminated by the streetlamps and the noise from bars and shops spills out onto the sidewalk in muted tones. “It seems magical, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” You agree with a grin, but for you, that magic is pouring off him – not the street around you.
******
“Hey look.” It’s a building that he hasn’t really noticed before but maybe it’s because he hadn’t been looking for it before. “Do you want to stop?”
“Sure.” You’d agree to almost anything right now and you shrug. “What is it?”
“Well, the name is Tomes and Tannins, so I’m thinking it might be one of those trendy wine shop slash bookstores?” He grins at you. “Why don’t we find out?”
“That is a level of fancy I never thought I would reach,” you admit with a grin and let him lead you inside. It’s deceptively mood-lit inside but with enough supplemental lights that you can read everything you need to, and there are cafe tables with chairs smattered around some mismatched armchairs and ever sofas with drink tables at either end. It’s cozy and welcoming, and obviously meant for you to stay a while.
“Hmmm this looks promising, right?” He asks, looking to see if you approve. “Interesting place.”
“Books and wine? Sounds amazing and looks even better.” A beaming smile of affirmation is all for him and you nudge him toward the stacks. “Where do you want to start?”
“Well…” he smirks slightly. “Show me that date idea that you liked? Picking out books for the other to read?”
“Oh!” Somehow you had already forgotten, and grin guiltily as you pull up the list of twenty prompts on your phone. “You’re supposed to roll a die to find out what numbers you get. Roll a die, find a book for each of us that fits the prompt, and just keep going until we decide we have our arms full.” Digging into your purse, you come out with a d20 from when you play Dungeons and Dragons with your friends and hold it up. “Do you want to go first?”
“Ladies first.” Marcus grins and motions towards a bookshelf. “Roll there and we will see what we come up with.”
Normally a high roll would be a great thing to get, but as you stare at the 17 that pops up on the die, you skim down the list on your phone and feel yourself smirk. “Number seventeen. A book that inspired a tv show or movie.”
“Now is this for me to find for you?” Marcus asks seriously. “Or is this your criteria for my book?”
“I think we’re both supposed to pick a book for each other that fits the category.” The video hadn’t exactly been clear, but that is how you interpreted it. And it sounded like the most fun way to do it anyway.
“Okay. So we each find the other a book that inspired a tv show or movie.” He agrees. “I say I roll and then we separate. We don’t show the other the book until we are done picking them out.”
“Alright.” You hold up the d20 to offer it to him. “Roll away, G-man.”
Marcus plucks the die from your fingers and puts it in his palm to close his fist around him. Grinning as he blows on it playfully like he’s rolling dice in a casino. “Here we go.” He tells you before tossing it down.
It's playful and sweet, and you giggle softly when the die hits the shelf and comes up with the number 5. You consult your list, tilting your head with a grin when you read what category he ended up with. "Number five. A book with an overly long title."
He hums and nods. “Why don’t we add a little bit of a challenge?” He asks. You tilt your head curiously, obviously interested. “We have ten minutes per book, so twenty minutes total. When the twenty minutes is up, we meet at the tables to have a glass of wine and exchange books.”
"Deal." The element of a game makes you smile even more broadly, and you hold up your finger before he can jet away from you. "One more thing?" You ask and wait until he nods. "I want to know your least favourite book of all time. Just so I don't grab it by accident."
“Honestly?” He gives you a guilty grin. “I hate the Lord of the Flies.” He admits with a small shrug. “Hated when it was required reading.”
"You are in no way the first person I've ever met who hated that book," you promise him, smothering a little laugh in the process. "I did not like Gone With the Wind. Couldn't even force myself to be empathetic with any of the characters, which is a shame. The plot is interesting."
“The movie is better, at least it’s watchable.” Marcus admits. “I always hated the scene after the little girl died.”
"Alright." Pulling out your phone, you set a timer for twenty minutes and watch him follow suit with that mischievous smile painted back in place. "Ten minutes for each book, and then we meet right back here for wine and to trade titles."
“Good luck.” With a wink, Marcus whirls around and rushes off, already having a title or three in mind.
It becomes a sort of secondary game – any time you run into each other in the maze of shelves you immediately guard the books you are carrying with your entire bodies and back away or even sprint away from each other so that the surprises won't be spoiled. It has the two of you giggling like idiots and has definitely attracted the attention of some of the other patrons, but no one seems to really mind. Who could possibly mind people having fun in a bookstore?
When he finds what he wants, Marcus barely resists hiding it under his jacket as he rushes up to the counter to make his purchase. Wondering if you will call him out or be disappointed. So he has a backup plan in case. Taking his bag and looking around the bookstore as he walks towards the table you agreed to meet him at.
You use an entire eighteen minutes debating whether or not it's cheating to just grab two of your favourite books to see if he'll like them before you finally just do it. They do fit the categories and he did say that he likes romances so one of them is only sort of a stretch. Grabbing the two novels, you head to the register and then back to the table, only to see him already sitting there. "You were speedy," you observe, raising one eyebrow as you sit down across from him at the table.
“I know what I want.” Marcus tells you, biting back the grin that he wants to display and feeling giddy for his reveal. He motions towards the board that displays what wines they have available. “Do you want to get a glass before we exchange?”
"Sure." He's being cheeky and it's sexy as hell, so you nod and bite back a grin. "You're the wine guru, so I'll try whatever you say is good."
“I think something sweet.” He decides. “A nice Shiraz for us to share?” He asks, wanting to know if you want your own glass or to share again.
"A shiraz to share sounds perfect." Not that you know what the hell shiraz is besides the obvious conclusion that it's wine, but the sharing part is what sounds best to you.
“Okay.” He nods and shoots you a wary look. “No peeking while I order.” He orders playfully, pointing at you. “I’ll be watching.”
He steps up to the counter and you dutifully put your hands on top of the brown paper bag stamped with the shop's logo that you paid for, not peaking in the bag he bought despite desperately wanting to. He comes back in less than three minutes but you're already near squirming in your seat because the suspense is killing you.
“Okay. This is a glass of Layer Cake.” He tells you. “Sounds good, but it’s honestly a first for me too.” He was feeling adventurous and wanted a new experience with you. He’s had shiraz, but he wanted to try this at the same time you did.
"So it's a new adventure for both of us, then." That somehow makes it feel romantic and not just sweet, but it would be silly to say so. "You take the first sip, I insist."
He chuckles. “So I can make sure it’s not poisoned?” He teases. “As you wish, my princess.”
The 'princess' bit makes your cheeks burn, but you don't want to admit that you want to know whether or not he likes it first. There's something about trying wines that makes you nervous and you don't want to accidentally end up loving something that he thinks is subpar. Maybe that's trying wines that is intimidating you, or maybe it's just that you like him. You can't tell, honestly.
Picking up the glass, he sniffs and hums before taking a sip. “Oh this is good.” He groans. “That would be good anytime you wanted wine.”
"Well now I'm excited." He hands the glass over to you and you take a sip, immediately sighing. "Oh, that's fantastic. That would have made me a wine person ages ago."
“I’m selfishly glad that you are exploring it with me.” He admits, admiring how you savor the wine and take another small sip.
"Feel free to be selfish, then, because this is fantastic." Handing the glass back to him, you waggle your bag in his direction with excitement. "Number seventeen or number five first?"
“You want to go first?” He asks, not caring at all. “Sure. Why don’t you surprise me?”
"Your librarian date is excited about books. This should be no surprise." Laughing as you reach into the bag, the book on top is what you decide to go with and you pull out an old faithful favourite. "Number five. A book with an overly long title." You tell him, presenting him with a copy of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg.
Marcus bites his lip and takes the book. “Okay.” He nods. “That is a long title.” He’s a little worried that you won’t like what he had chosen now.
"You look nervous." He does take the book, though, not reject it. "Have you read it before? It's okay if you have...or if you didn't like it." You're not one of those people who believes that a couple has to like all the same things, after all.
“No, no, I haven’t read this one.” He promises. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about. Especially since you seem to love it.”
"I do." It would be kind of useless to claim otherwise, and you sit back in your chair to accept the glass of wine from him. "What did you find for number five?"
“So…” he flashes you a small grin. “I kind of…cheated.” He admits. “I chose a book that is both five and seventeen.” He admits. “But now, so have you so I’m completely thinking that I fucked up. But I’ve got a corny ass back up.” He rushes out to assure you.
"You say cheating, I say creativity." You do bite your lip though, before admitting, "I actually have two of my favourite books that worked for what we rolled...so this is kind of just my excuse to show them to you. Which is also cheating. Just a little."
At least you aren’t mad. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a beautiful hardback book. “My book for you is this. The Princess Bride: S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure.” He slides the book in front of you.
It probably isn't the reaction he expects to have you almost tear up at the table, but you gently place your hands on the book and draw it closer to you like it is something delicate and precious – which, to you, it is. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I mentioned wanting to be read to, does it?" You ask him with a grin. "Marcus it's perfect. And believe it or not...despite this being one of my favourite movies? I've never read the book."
“You haven’t?” His jaw drops and he shakes his head. “I don’t know which I like better, the movie or the book.” He admits. “I have my own copy at home.”
"I've read Cary Elwes' book, but somehow not the novel." The way he lights up at having made a good choice for you might be the most adorable thing you've ever seen. "I guess that's finally about to change."
“I did get another book but I decided it was a bit much after.” He admits, slightly flustered that he bought that book. But it has been made into a movie.
“What was the other one?” His ears have turned red and now you have to know, even nudging the wine glass back toward him in case he needs a little courage.
He blows out a breath and pulls out the other book from the bag. “Okay, but don’t judge me.” He begs, revealing the front of Fifty Shades of Grey.
“Why Marcus, is this a hint?” He has turned an even deeper shade of red and you can’t resist another giggle before batting your eyelashes at him.
“I— no, I don’t mean— it’s just that—” he sputters and chokes on his words before he heaves a sigh and drops his chin to his chest. “Fuck. I knew I should have just found something else.”
“You only should have grabbed something else if you didn’t mean to flirt with me,” you tell him honestly and pull your own book that inspired a tv show or movie out of your paper bag to hand him. The Duke & I by Julia Quinn now has images from the Bridgerton tv show splashed all over the cover, making it unmistakable. “You said you like romance novels sometimes,” you defend, shrugging your shoulders.
“I’ve not read this.” He admits, reaching for the book to read the inside cover. “It sounds interesting. This is a show right?”
“Bridgerton.” You nod, wondering what - if anything - he’s heard about it. “Most people call it something like… ‘horny Jane Austen’.”
He snorts and chuckles to himself as he continues to read it. “Then I see why it appeals.” He jokes. “Nothing like love and sex.”
“Technically isn’t that what this is, too?” You ask, waggling the copy of 50 Shades at him. “Just… kinkier.” It’s an honest question, really. Since you’ve never read it.
“It’s – not bad but you can tell that whoever wrote this is just guessing at what they think BDSM is about.” Marcus tells you.
"So...do that mean you do know what BDSM is about?" It's an intriguing thought, to imagine this otherwise very clean-cut looking guy being into anything kinky, and you can't say you hate it. Not at all.
"I—" He never should have opened his mouth. He never should have opened his goddamn mouth. If it was possible to get any hotter, Marcus swears his face would just burst into flames. This isn't something that his mother would know because there is zero chance in hell he would ever tell her. "I was undercover." He explains. "The people I was— associating with, they were into that kind of scene." He bites his lip. "I had to do a lot of research on it, but I've never actually, you know, uh, practiced it." He assures you.
"Please don't think I'm judging," you reach over the table quickly to give his hand a squeeze and shake your head vehemently. "Honestly, if anything? I find it very...interesting. But have never practiced any of it, either."
"I just don't want you thinking that I'm—" He shrugs slightly. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. Normally I'm more confident than this, but not this time." He chuckles quietly.
"You don't want me to think you're kinky?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. "It's not a bad thing to be. But...I'm sorry if I did anything to shake that confidence." With a half-smirk, you shrug one shoulder in admission. "I promise you'd be extremely confident if you could hear the monologue in my head tonight."
"You didn't do anything, I promise." Marcus reaches out after you had pulled back and takes your hand again. "My last...relationship. She's the one that kind of screwed with my head." He confesses quietly. "But I want to know about this internal monologue of yours."
"The coworker." Of course his mother had told you about his ex-fiancée. She hadn't wanted you to feel like she was throwing you into an unknown situation. "From what your mom said...she sounds like she was a little...dishonest? And that's bullshit. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."
"It's done." There's nothing he can do to change it, and he's not sure that he would want to now that he's looking back on the situation. "But I'm hoping that I can get that confidence back."
"Well, if you hadn't said anything, I never would have known that this is the less confident version of you." His hand dwarfs yours, the warmth of it completely welcoming and overtaking all your senses. And it's so, so welcome.
"Is the book, alright?" He asks. "You can just read the first one if you want."
"Oh, no." The grin you aim his way is mischievous. "I'm definitely going to read both. Who knows? I might learn something."
"Have you seen the movies?" He asks curiously.
"No..." You can feel your cheeks heat up all over again. "It always seemed...I don't know, maybe I'm just really vanilla, but they always seemed so close to porn to me?" Not that that is a bad thing. And not that you don't watch your share of porn. Just usually not of the BDSM variety.
"It was actually pretty tastefully done." Marcus admits. "I've seen them. My ex wanted to see them, so..." He shrugs. "You go see them."
"See? You're already a font of information compared to me." His hand is still covering yours and you shiver a little at the innuendo of it all. Of how warm and tempting he is. "I guess I'll have to catch up. Educate myself."
It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you that you can watch the movies together, but that might be too forward. Instead, he grins. “Sounds like you have a research plan.”
"Apparently so." Under the table, the toe of your shoe finds the back of his leg completely by accident as you shift in your seat, and you grin guiltily. "I was about to apologize for that," you admit, knowing that it must have seemed like you were trying to play footsies or something under the table. "But honestly? I'm not sorry."
“Really?” His brow lifts and he shoots you a grin. “You like playing footsie?” He asks, his own foot reaching out and tapping yours gently.
"I think it's kind of cute, honestly." The innocent shrug is accompanied by a bright, smitten smile, and you nudge Marcus's foot back playfully.
“Best part of cuddling is sliding your foot along the leg of your cuddle buddy.” He tells you. “Or letting your hands wander.”
"Mmm...it's hands." And he has such huge hands...the possibilities are endless. "It's definitely hands."
“You’re a touch kind of girl?” He asks, intrigued by the idea and he wonders if your love language is physical touch. He’s noticed that you’ve reached out several times when reassuring him.
"Touch is a powerful thing." You reason, not making a single move to take your hand out of his. "It can be intense or gentle, reassuring or electrifying. It can be almost anything."
“Electrifyingly reassuring.” Marcus quips, squeezing your hand gently. He picks up the wine with his free hand and takes a sip.
"Like it's exciting but at the same time...feels kind of...right?" Which is exactly how you feel about him, and you're kind of going out on a limb admitting it but you don't think he's gearing up to reject you.
It does, he looks down at your joined hands and smiles. "I think so." He hands you the wine and hums. "Now, we have a couple of options for the rest of the night, if you're up for it." He grins. "We can continue to walk and talk. Or...." He shrugs. "I have my car back at the restaurant and I can drive you back to my place and we can have a cheese board and read to each other?"
He knows what he’s offering — not even in a salacious way — and that a night of reading books is like catnip to a librarian. You can’t help but get excited for it. Even the most boring night in the world would be improved by this, but tonight? With how it’s going? It sounds practically like foreplay. “What are we waiting for?” You ask, grinning, and take the last sip of wine from the glass. “We both have brand new books to read and my guess is that you definitetly have a couch big enough for two. I’d say that decision is easy.”
"Yeah?" He had expected you to say no. It's the first date after all. Beaming at you, he motions towards the wine. "Do you want to get a bottle of this to take with us?" He asks. "It would go good with any of the adult Lunchable things we can get."
“You’re going to keep teasing me about it, but I stand by that description.” You do nod though, having thoroughly enjoyed this particular glass of wine even more than what he had ordered at dinner.
He chuckles. "It's a good one." He admits. "I've never looked at it that way, but now I can see why you say that. I used to beg my mom to buy Lunchables."
“And now you love charcuterie. Which is the very same thing in a much neater package.” It’s silly, but you’ve always liked silly. It can really open a person up.
He squeezes your hand. "You finish that glass and I will see about getting us a bottle to take home." He tells you, letting go to stand up and quickly walk back to the counter. Feeling incredible about this date and almost hating that he had ever been dreading it.
Two sips and a purchased bottle later, the two of you are out the door of the little shop and heading back in the direction of the restaurant to retrieve Marcus’s car. The night is clear and crisp now and even though the city lights glow brighter than the stars you can sweat you feel the distinct light of the moon before anything else.
“How did you come to dinner?” He asks as he guides you towards his car. “If you feel more comfortable following me, I can give you the address.” He huffs. “Although I should probably do that anyway so you can send it to a girlfriend.”
“I have to admit, it’s comforting to have a guy even acknowledge that kind of thing.” Especially that he’s a federal agent, and doesn’t seem to feel entitled to your obedience or safety based purely on that fact. Instead he dutifully gives you his address after you tell him that you took public transportation to get here, and you send it off to your best friend.
“I understand.” He admits. “The number of people who disregard others safety or their own drives me insane sometimes. At the end of the day if someone gets offended for wanting to feel secure, they don’t have good intentions.” Marcus tells you. “Plus, my mother would kick my ass.”
“She definitely would.” You can agree to that, and thank him quietly when Marcus opens the passenger door for you to get into his car. The address he had given you was in Georgetown so you had a short but nice drive ahead.
“So what kind of music do you like?” He asks as he starts the car and looks behind him to back out of the spot. “Feel free to change it to whatever you like.”
“I would never change Pearl Jam.” Is the very serious reply he gets from you, as the alternative rock station he has programmed on his satellite radio is currently playing ‘Even Flow’. “There was a band that played in my college town that did all 90s rock covers and they were the absolute best shows to go to.”
“That had to be awesome.” Marcus hums. “I was too busy playing to really see a lot of shows and I regret it. But I loved being in the band.”
“Well then I guess we’ll have to find some live music to go see.” There seems like plenty of common ground that you can pick up on together and that is a very good sign if nothing else. “If the sound of a 90s influenced jam band doesn’t make you want to run for the hills, The Southern Ocean is playing at The Runaway this weekend.”
“I’ve never heard of them.” Marcus admits sheepishly. He’s been focused on work and not really out on the social scene the past few months. “Are they good?”
“I mean, I think so.” It’s not exactly surprising that the name is unknown to him and you glance over at him while he drives. “Their bassist is a friend, so I try to support whenever I can.”
“Then that’s definitely something I would want to check out.” Marcus nods. “It’s always good when you see friends play.”
“Would you want to come with me?” It’s only slightly presumptuous to plan out a second date when you’re still in the middle of the first one, but you like Marcus. You like him. He’s smart and handsome as hell and sweet, and even balances flirtation and respect on the perfect level. Honestly, you can’t imagine what kind of an idiot his exes were to let him get away.
“If you’re offering.” He smiles. “Who the hell ever resists an invitation from a pretty girl to go see a band?” He shakes his head. “I might be dumb, but I’m no fool.”
“You’re not dumb. Or a fool.” That’s exactly the kind of thing you don’t put up with from guys you date and you were glad to be able to rule it out very early with Marcus. You exchange a small smile at the next light when he pulls up to it and for the rest of the ride you sing along with the music and just enjoy yourselves.
When he pulls up to his house, Marcus is sort of panicking. Wondering if he had picked up this morning after he had dropped his clothes on the floor from his run. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was a slob.
“Home sweet home?” You guess, looking up at the picturesque blue house with its literal white picket fence. It even has a gate out front that someone lovingly painted flowers on in lieu of adding a name.
“Yeah.” He chuckles and gives a small shrug. “It was a hell of a deal when I stumbled on it and I jumped.”
“It’s beautiful.” The lawn is dotted with wildflowers from what you can see in the dark, and suddenly the mental image of stargazing with him on a blanket is impossible to shake.
“Thank you. Luckily, I pay a wonderful company to keep the yard looking nice because I don’t have time to do it.” He admits with a small laugh.
“They do a much better job than the landlord at my duplex,” you offer him a smile before he slides out of the car and goes around to your door to let you out. The front door is a mere six steps away and Marcus’s house is even sweeter and more inviting once that door is open. It’s like somebody built the set of a Hallmark movie in real life just for this handsome FBI agent.
“So, this is home.” He knows that it’s decorated more than the standard bachelor pad and he’s okay with that. He’s not the type of man to just have a chair and a tv in the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I can put your coat in the closet if you want?”
“Thanks.” It’s the most intimate contact you’ve had tonight besides holding hands, and you swear you can feel your skin tingle when he slides your jacket off your shoulders for you before hanging it beside his in the closet. The little shiver that runs through you is a private thrill and you know you probably look dreamy as hell as you follow him past the living room to the kitchen.
“How about you arrange the cheese board while I open and pour the wine?” He asks as he opens the refrigerator to pull out the sliced cheeses and meats he keeps there because he likes them.
It sounds wonderfully domestic, and you agree to it easily as he pulls out a small board and sets it down on the counter. Packages of Gruyère, havarti, and something marked Seriously Sharp cheddar all fill out the board and you do your valiant best at attempting to fold and rolls the slices of cured meats into petite little roses for the two of you to enjoy demolishing together. Some fresh grapes and cherry preserves join the tray, and Marcus produces a half of a baguette seemingly out of nowhere once the wine is poured. It’s all deceptively easy, the way you seem to work with and around each other, and by the time you make it back out to the living room you know you’re just completely gone for this man. His little smiles, deep laugh, and soft demeanor have you utterly relaxed and so, so smitten.
“Do you want to put on some music?” Marcus asks. “Maybe we can just relax. Lean back and read to each other?” He’s leaning into the idea that you would like this and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.
“What do you want to read first?” It sounds like possibly the most romantic idea in the world – just sitting and reading to each other in comfort with an indulgent (and savory) dessert. If the thought of curling up with him and finding out what it feels like to be close to him is anything, it is fairly close to perfection.
“Ladies choice.” He hums quietly, moving over to the record player he has sitting next to the collection of vinyl’s. It’s not to look snooty, he’s been obsessed with them since his mother played them while cleaning, claiming it sounded better. For classical music, it does. It brings back a sense of nostalgia, sets a mood.
“Rachmaninov?” The melody sounds familiar, like something out of a dream, when it starts up and the name seems to drudge itself out of the depths of your memory. “That’s got fantasy and romance written all over it.”
He hadn’t chosen the music with that in mind, but he smiles. “Too much?” He asks, even though he doesn’t feel like you will think that.
“Not at all.” In fact, just the opposite. It feels just right. “But it feels like The Duke & I or Princess Bride for sure.”
“Okay.” He smiles as he moves over to the couch and toes off his loafers to reveal the dress socks he had been wearing underneath. “You can get comfortable.” He promises, taking off his sports jacket and removing his tie.
Getting Comfortable on a date for you would usually lead to sexier things than snacks and reading — but then, is there anything sexier than reading in the first place? For a librarian that seems impossible. So instead, you follow suit and toe off your boots to curl up in the couch beside him.
It seems almost natural to have you curl into the crook of his body and Marcus opens his arms slightly. “How about I read to you to start?” He asks softly.
For most people this might be a recipe for falling asleep, but tonight the sound of his voice is vibrating through the thin fabric of your dress as you lean against him. The lingering scene of his cologne mixed with the wine and new book smell in a way more intoxicating than alcohol ever could be. “You’re dangerously comfortable,” you warn him, drawn right against him like a magnet.
"I don't mind being called that." He laughs quietly, trying not to jostle you too badly as you snuggle against him and he settles into opening the new book. Hearing the spine creak open slightly and he wonders if you are like him and prefer hardback over paperback books. At least for gifts.
“All we need is a fire in the fireplace and we’re just about as picturesque as I can imagine.” It’s dangerous to turn your head to smile at him from this angle because it brings you within about two inches of his perfectly tantalizing lips, but you remind yourself to behave. This is just the first date. No need to rush.
“Not quite cold enough yet.” He can’t help but look down at your lips, imagining kissing you in front of a cozy fire after a night in. Or maybe coming home to relax after a night out.
“Soon.” The moment is so soft, and you watch his eyes drift down to your lips the same way yours did to his a second ago with a warm buzzing in your chest. Whether you mean the fire or the kiss should be soon is entirely up to him to decide.
“Should I start to read?” He asks quietly. Feeling the moment start to grow into something warmer, sweeter.
“Yeah—I—um…” Any hesitation on your part is strictly attraction based, and you move your head a safe distance from his lips so as not to get distracted. “Please.”
Marcus turns his eyes to focus on the book and not on you. “The birth of Simon Authur Henry Clyvedon Fitzranulph Basset, Earl Clyvedon was met with great celebration.” He keeps his voice low, intimate between the two of you as he was reading you a story before bed.
It’s simultaneously the most relaxing thing in the world and causing you to be completely on edge, the way Marcus’s rich voice seems to roll right through you as he begins to read. Every place that the two of you are touching seems to be on fire and you cannot decide if you want to jump him or take the world’s most luxurious ride on his narration alone.
He feels you stiffen in his arms and he wonders if you’ve change your mind. “Everything okay?” He asks, wanting to check in with you. He had anticipated you melting against him, but you seem on edge and if it’s something he’s doing, he wants to fix it.
“Of course.” There’s nothing wrong with how relaxed you feel right now, but you know you’ve been a little tensed against him. You had just been hoping that he wouldn’t notice. The fact that he looks at you incredulously says he definitely did. “I’m—” Flustering, you clear your throat as gently as you can manage and bite back a smile. “I’m a little distracted,” you admit, wondering how well complete honesty will go over with him.
“Cold?” Marcus asks. “There’s a blanket right over your other shoulder.” He hums. “Snuggle against me and curl under it. I meant it, make yourself comfortable.” He’s not sure if it’s the change from having your jacket and boots on that’s distracting you, but he doesn’t mind the idea of being under a blanket together.
Not entirely sure that snuggling more would distract you less,” you pull the blanket down anyway and do as he suggests. It brings the two of you even closer and you have to tamp down the coil tightening even further in your gut. Keep your shit together. You’re a grown ass woman! “There.” You smile, but looking up at him brings your eyes to his lips again and you don’t even realize as your tongue darts out to wet your own lips at the sight. “All better.”
His eyes drop down to your lips and he all but groans at the sight of them wet. “Good.” He croaks out, clearing his throat. “That’s good.” It’s hard to tear his gaze away from you, but he needs to so he doesn’t overstep.
“Mmhmm.” Nodding is like a reflex, and for all your determination you just can’t look away. “Very good…”
There’s a moment where Marcus wants to put the book down and give into the desire to kiss you. But that wouldn’t be what you had planned when you came over here and if something happens, he’s determined to let you lead. “So, uh, where was I?”
“I think—” But the thought isn’t there. You have no idea what the last thing he read was, despite how much you love the sound of his voice. Every sense has been taken over by the buzzing hum running through your body and the spark of his skin touching yours. “I don’t—” You could bluster. Or try to skim the page and guess. But your impulses are a hell of a lot stronger than your good sense tonight. “—I really want to kiss you—”
Marcus groans quietly and the book snaps shut with a definitive thump. “I really want you to kiss me too.” He admits. “You should go with your instincts.”
“Instincts are important,” you nod as wisely and seriously as possible even as you’re turning into his side. Those warm puffs of breath that have been ghosting over your skin make you shiver, and you just have an unshakable feeling that this is that start of something completely wonderful. “Oh yeah?” You hum, close enough to nudge his nose with yours.
“Yeah.” Marcus exhales roughly, feeling like he is about to vibrate out of his skin. Despite his complaint to his mom that it was too soon since Teresa, he feels that this is nearly perfect. You’re perfect and he’s painfully attracted to you.
It only takes the smallest movement to fit your lips against his, but the response that floods your body is monumental. It really should only have been a quick, light, gentle kind of first kiss — but he did say to go with your instincts. So instead your hand comes up to graze the line of his jaw when the blissful feeling of having him kiss you back makes you feel like you might vibrate out of place right there on the couch.
It’s innocent, really. The kiss doesn’t go much deeper than the exploration of each other in that first pressing of lips and yet he feels like his heart is about to explode out of his chest. The only reason you pull back is to check in with him. It really is. Because that simple little first kiss might be the best first kiss you’ve ever had. His smile is a little dreamy, almost goofy as his eyes flutter opened after closing on their own. Looking at you as if you had hung the moon after that kiss.
"You look how I feel," you tell him, grin splitting your face clean across as you tuck tightly into his side. That pure joy radiating from his smile is the same feeling filling up your chest right now.
“Like you could tap dance on air?” He asks with an answering grin of his own. Wanting to pull you close and kiss you again, but resisting.
"Maybe." Neither of you were expecting the giggle you share, but it makes you both smile that much harder and you shift slightly against him. "And...like I didn't want to stop..."
“That too.” The book falls to the floor as he shifts slightly. His eyes are darker now, the lust and desire making his amber eyes turn to onyx. “You don’t have to.”
The momentum sweeps both of you up in a way you didn’t expect at all. As soon as he agrees to wanting even a little more you feel like the whole world tilts on its axis. You shift in his arms to surge toward him, lips pressing against his in earnest and barely managing to swallow a moan when he pulls you in tighter. It has you throwing caution to the wind and taking advantage of the open-mouthed kiss to taste him with your tongue — and letting a second moan out when he tastes just as sweet as you thought.
His arms wrap around you, not wanting you to shift too far away as he drowns in the kiss. Letting the feeling of your tongue caressing his completely overrule any semblance of thought beyond you and making sure you are aware of how much he is enjoying kissing you.
Trying to get as close to each other as you possibly can, you turn one more time in his arms and shift forward without ever breaking the kiss. His arms hold you steady, following wherever you’re going next, and in a moment of impulsivity and bravery you swing one leg over his lap to straddle Marcus completely on the couch.
Groaning, he absorbs your weight easily and his hands slide down your sides to squeeze your hips. He’s not upset you’re in his lap, quite the opposite. It makes his kiss just a little more frantic, trying to devour you a bit more.
Marcus has big hands. You know that already. But feeling them on you is totally different. His grip is firm but gentle, sweeping up and down your sides, and you’re suddenly hyper aware that you chose a dress and leggings and that those things provide no barrier between his body and yours. You can feel damn near everything underneath you and that is a blessing as well making you hyper aware of the warmth radiating off of him in waves.
He pants against your lips and feels like he’s underwater. Knowing that he is starting to harden underneath you at the warmth of your body, your core pressed against him.
The only thing that could possibly reel you back in at this point is him — the very same thing that is driving you crazy. But before you start grinding against him or even so much unconsciously moving your hips, you need to make sure he’s okay with it. You’re both panting heavily when you press your forehead against his, and your hands grip his shoulders tightly for balance. “I can stop…” you promise him, knowing that reeling yourself in now will be easier than later. “If you don’t want—more—”
“No.” The word is more whimper and plea than command and he wouldn’t do that anyway. “I— I’m good. I want—” He shakes his head and leans in to press his lips to yours again.
He wants just like you do, if the growing bulge beneath you is any indication, and you are not the slightest bit upset about that in anyway. It isn't what you came here for – or why you went on this date in the first place – but fuck if it isn't feeling like the perfect way to cap off the night.
The subtle circling of your hips has his fingers digging into your thighs as the most delicious groan rips out of his throat. Unsure if he wants you to stop or to just grind on him until you’re panting his name, he slides his tongue down your jaw and to your neck to follow it up with tiny kisses.
"Fuck— Marcus." The iron grip you had on his shoulders has slacked only so you can run your hands down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer under your fingertips just as fast as your own as he dusts kisses along your neck and raises goosebumps in his wake.
“So sexy.” He murmurs into your skin. Scraping his teeth over your pulse and sucking lightly. Enjoying the tremor that runs through you and the way you press down against his cock as you moan. He’s hard and starting to ache now, twitching every time you move.
“Unbelievably hot.” The first time you deliberately tilt your hips and rock your core over him, you both moan and you melt against him with your fingers fumbling for his buttons. “C—can I?” You manage, even though you feel like your voice is shaking. “Want to touch you, baby. Please?”
Exhaling on a shudder, Marcus gulps in air greedily. "Whatever you want." He croaks out. "I— fuck," His eyes close and his head tilts back slightly, exposing his Adam's apple. "I want you, but this stops wherever you want it to." He's not the type of man to push beyond your comfort, but if you said you wanted him inside you, he'd already be asking about protection. Not feeling like this is some sort of rebound, it feels like the beginning of something wonderful.
“I don’t want it to stop,” you admit, pausing with your fingers already in the first button of his shirt to find his eyes. This is not your usual first date M.O. but there is something here. Something very real and new between you that has wrapped itself around both of you together.
“We don’t have to stop.” Marcus promises you breathlessly, biting back a groan of pleasure when your hand splays across his chest, touching his hot skin.
"Thank god." Your own moan is a soft and breathy thing as you lean back to watch the broad expanse of his chest come into view with every button you manage to wrench open.
He manages to chuckle, even though he wants to just pull you closer and rip your clothes open to touch you, but he just pulls you close.
It's so damn easy to sink into him. For both of you to let your hands wander and your kisses migrate across each other's skin. He's stronger even than he looks at first glance and that is very strong – to the point where you really wonder if he might be able to just lift you up and carry you off. And that is just about the sexiest thing you can think of.
Keeping his hands on top of your clothes is going to be a real fucking challenge. Especially now that you have stripped him of his dress shirt and his undershirt. Squeezing and caressing every inch of skin you are baring, even the back of your tender neck while he scatters kisses along your lips.
The way he grabs and bunches your dress in his hands but doesn't reach further makes you groan, wondering if he's hesitant or if he's just waiting for permission. It really only takes a few seconds to realize there is something hesitant about the way he is kissing you or palming your hips and breasts over your dress, so you take one of his hands and guide it under the hem of your dress in invitation.
Marcus moans when you guide his hand under your dress, giving him permission to touch you and it becomes his mission to touch every inch of your body. Both hands slide up and down your thighs in sweeping passes, over your panties and to your stomach.
"Fuck." His hands are burning hot, making you shiver counterintuitively and lean into every touch. At this rate you may leave a damp patch from grinding down on him, but you don't even care. The friction is too good to ease up on. The only way you're moving off is so Marcus can get his pants off.
"That's right, baby." He agrees, unable to stop twitching every time you grind against the hard bulge in his slacks. "Fuck is right." His thumb sweeps under your breast right before he slides up to cover it with his hand, right over the bra and squeeze possessively. "You want to take off your dress for me, sweetheart?"
It's not even worth wasting breath on a reply, you just tear your hands away from his chest to pull your dress up over your head. It gets tossed somewhere on the floor and instantly forgotten about as you pant for your breath back and watch Marcus's eyes drink you in.
He didn't know that he could look so many places at once. Your tits, mouthwatering and begging for his attention. Down to your pretty panties that he wants to rip off and bury his tongue inside you to hear you squeal his name. Back up to your face and he nearly growls as he rushes in to kiss you again.
The momentum nearly knocks you backward but Marcus's arms are there to hold you steady. If he has his way you'll be staying skin-to-skin for a whole lot longer tonight and you have absolutely no problem with that. Every time his cock twitches under you, you can't help but moan, and soon it's going to be just a litany of that sound over and over.
Deft, sure hands reach back to undo your bra, making the first move to strip clothing off of you. Pulling the straps down your arms and immediately reaching up to cup your breasts and fill his hands with them. As simple as it might be to get a simple piece of clothing off of you, your high-pitched whine says everything about how eager you are to be rid of every stitch. "You have the best hands," you moan when he pinches your nipples and rolls the tight buds between his fingers for the first time.
"You have the best tits." Marcus hums, almost chuckling as he watches your head drop down to your chest and then roll back. "Fuck, that's it," he groans when you circle your hips on his cock again.
"S—swear this isn't what I was expecting—" You manage to breathe out, trying to assure him that you never expected sex tonight. "But fuck, baby."
"Me either." He agrees, kissing your jaw and then down your chest. His hot mouth moving towards your breast until he's pulling your nipple into his mouth.
“Mar—Marcus.” The heat of his mouth makes you keen even as your head drops back and the fingers of one hand tangle in his short hair. At this point every time you grind your hips down it’s like you’re trying to reach his cock inside his pants, and you know he’s as hard as you are wet.
He huffs and blows his breath against your nipple as he lets go of it, smirking up at you before sucking it back into his mouth. Knowing that tonight is nowhere near what he had imagined it being like and yet he can't be mad at it. He's eager to feel more of you.
“Feels so damn good.” The contrast of hot and cool on your skin makes your eyelids flutter and you rock in his lap.
He moans in agreement, his tongue flicking over the stiff peak and he loves how it puffs up even more in his mouth. Pulling off only to attack your other breast with equal enthusiasm.
Every flick of his tongue sends another shiver down your spine and as much as you just want to ride it out and see if you can cum only from having your tits sucked on, you want him more. One hand stays threaded in his hair but the other reaches down between you, finding the thick bulge of his cock in his pants and squeezing experimentally to see what makes him moan.
Marcus’s breath is ragged, shuddered against your skin and he pulls away because he might bite down too hard if you do that too well. “Fuck, baby.” He groans when you squeeze him again.
"I—" You breathe, panting when he twitches in your hand and you can feel how thick he is. "I have a condom in my wallet." It had been just a nothing idea, to throw one in while you were getting ready. More of a joke to yourself about how you always seem to be so overprepared. But now? Thank god you did.
"Yeah?" He kisses up your neck again and his tongue slides against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. "I have one too." He admits. He's always carried one, but not because he expected sex, but because it was surprisingly handy to have at times. "Do you want to use yours or mine?"
"Yours first, mine second." It might sound a little overconfident, but something in you tells you for certain that this isn't just a one-time thing. Besides that, Marcus's hazy, lust-filled grin at your comment is worthwhile.
"Good girl." He groans out, twitching against your core at the thought of multiple rounds after you've both caught your breath and recovered.
That makes you moan reflexively, and you don't even pretend to demure over the reaction. It's honest and it's real. Who doesn't want to be praised during sex?
"Oh you like that." He chuckles and leans in to kiss your lips again softly. "I'll keep that in mind." He will, he will take note of every damn think you like.
"Not even going to pretend I don't." You lean forward to nip at his neck in turn before stepping back from him with a groan. With two feet on the rug, you already hate the distance between you. But you'll take care of that as soon as you strip his pants away.
Marcus pouts slightly but he quickly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants so he can lift his hips up so you can pull his pants down. Black boxer-briefs under black trousers is very adult of him, and you're far too focused on the thick length trapped under that last layer of fabric to tease him about boring underwear. Instead you toss him his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and slip off your tights while he fishes for the condom packet.
Catching his wallet, Marcus opens it and pulls the condom out and tosses it on the coffee table before he bites his lip. Looking at you before he lifts his hips again and pushes down his boxer briefs.
Broad shoulders and a thin waist give way to long legs, but your attention is focused on his dark eyes until you let your gaze drop to his lap. The head of his cock is bordering purple, dripping precum, and it gives a distinct twitch against his belly when he watches you watch him. The perfect moment of quiet before the storm that is about to take over, you crack a grin at Marcus and take a step forward. That cock is going to feel so fucking good inside you.
"I take it you approve?" He asks, smirking himself as he holds out his hand to you. "Now, I want you to take off your panties for me, sweetheart."
“Oh, these things?” With your thumbs hooked into either side of your panties, you grin a little wider before slipping them straight down your legs to pool at your feet. “Gone.”
"Fuck." He groans, cock jerking again at the sight of you completely bare in front of him. "You're so beautiful. I'm lucky to be able to touch you."
You hum, shaking your head and making a show of walking the three steps you need to need to be ready to crawl back into his lap. “I could say the same thing.”
He chuckles and rips open the condom to roll down his length. Biting his lip while he studiously applies the prophylactic, he looks back up at you with his hand wrapped around his covered cock. "Then touch me again and make me believe it." He teases.
Never having known a single man who didn’t like having his cock ridden, you fit one knee on the outside of each of his hips and sit yourself down directly over his core, replacing his hand with yours and wishing you had had the opportunity to suck his cock just a little before he applied the condom. Next time, you tell yourself, rocking over the tip of his length and watching his Adam’s Apple bob dramatically until you start to slide that length inside you an inch at a time.
His hands find your hips again. Not to rush you, but to hold you as you slowly start to engulf his cock. Moaning out your name when you get the first two inches inside your hot body and your walls squeeze him tight. "That— fuck, baby, you feel so good." He praises breathlessly. "How— is it good?" He can barely think straight, but he wants to make sure you are comfortable.
“Perfect.” Barely holding onto your last shred of control, you are determined to make sure you both latch on to the bliss of this moment before anything else. “Fucking perfect.”
Your fingers dig into his shoulders but the slight pain just adds to how good the way you sink down onto him feels. Groaning again as you keep taking him, wrapping him up in the heat of your body. "Good."
“Goddamn.” When he’s fully seated inside you, you pause long enough for both of you to catch your breath. “Tell me when I can move, baby.”
"Anytime you want to move." He moans, wanting you to move now, but he's not the one who is on top. "You set the pace, baby."
That in itself is enough encouragement, and you raise up on your knees right away to the musical harmony of a moan ripping out of each of you. “Fuck you feel so good,” you moan, barely keeping your eyes open as you set an even but energetic pace. It feels that good, but you want to be able to watch him.
Breathing out shakily, Marcus can't even speak. Too overcome by the pure pleasure that comes when you start to move. Rolling your hips and clenching down around him, you fit like you are perfectly molded around him. Eyes fluttering when you start to lift off his length, but then take him even deeper when you sink back down.
The sounds of sex are distinct – sloppy and wet and loud – as the two of you find a rhythm together. If you believed in Fate you’d say he felt like he was made for you, but as it is you really can barely form any thoughts at all. He fills you in a way you don’t think you’ve ever felt before and every perfect man goes straight to your clit as you ride him.
His fingers are still grazing your hip as his thumb presses against that little button that drives women crazy. Humming when he starts to work quick, small circles on top of it as you move. Wanting to match the rhythm for your pleasure. Your hands are everywhere, pulling in his hair and bracing on his shoulders, grazing down his chest and even reaching behind you to lean backward and get a slightly different angle and groaning loudly when it strikes you just right.
Letting you lead doesn’t mean that Marcus does nothing. His hips rock up every other thrust to make sure that you are impaled on his cock. Toes curling every time, he groans out your name again and again.
Curses and praises fall from your lips, punctuating the litany of moans with colorful encouragement and pleas. Every time he thrusts upward you feel like you’re going to have all of your insides rearranged, and it’s so fucking good you never want it to stop.
“Fuck. Baby.” Marcus leans forward and presses his forehead to your clavicle. “You’re taking me so well. Love it.” His mouth sometimes gets filthy when he’s lost in a moment and it’s no different today. “Pretty little pussy clamped down over my dick.”
Fucking hell. He even talks dirty. You keen in response, a moan so animated and turned the fuck on that you’re picking up the pace and pawing at your own tits in Marcus’s face. It’s beautiful to watch your tits bounce and your hands pluck at them, but he’s a hands on kind of guy and he lets go of your waist so he can lavish attention on them.
It’s an automatic switch. When his hands move to knead your tits and pluck at your nipples, you replace one of your own on his shoulder and let the other drift to your clit to run the same circles that he was just a second ago. You’re hurtling desperately close to cumming and you can’t wait to hear what dirty little praises he’s going to come out with when you clamp down on his cock even harder.
Marcus moans and groans with his nipple in your mouth. His eyes watching your fingers dance over your clit and he’s memorizing the fact that you enjoyed the way he had been touching you. His hips rocking up fast to punch up into you. Feeling you getting closer to your peak with ever gasped squeal you give him.
“So—fuck— so fucking close,” you manage between pants and moans as your body starts to lock down all at once and that coil in the base of your spine tightens beautifully like you were warning it and not just him. “Oh fuck, I’m cum—”
The second he feels you tense up, Marcus pops off your tit and his arms wind around you like steel bands. Holding you in place so he can take over. Thrusting up into you while you start to cum. “That’s it.” He hisses. “Cum for me. Soak me baby. Show me how good my cock feels.” He groans, the hard, sharp thrusts knocking his breath out but he fucks you through it, still babbling. “Like a vice, like a fucking vice. Come on baby, give me all of it.”
The filthy babbling almost breaks you, with the way that it shakes through you and makes you gasp at breaths even with how much you’re panting. Sparks flash white behind your eyes as Marcus’s hips start to stutter, and you’re vaguely aware of a stream of your own encouragements — or maybe just begging him to cum so you can see how gorgeously unwound he looks when he hits his peak. You can’t be sure which it is, or if it’s both, but either way his arms tighten around you that much more and he groans in your ear like sin incarnate.
"Fuck you're so good." Marcus breathes. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill your little pussy up." That's not going to happen because of the condom, but logistics don't exactly matter right this second. All that matters is that he's going to be buried inside you as he cums. "Fuck baby, fuck." He chokes out, giving one more thrust and grinding up into you as he whines your name into your ear. Spilling into the condom in hot waves of pleasure.
“Holy shit.” You’re the first to break into giggles, when you finally have your breath back. His arms were so tight around you at the end that you might feel a little bruised tomorrow but you can’t find it in yourself to care at all. That’s the best ride you’ve had in ages and it was only the first time.
Humming, Marcus leans in and nuzzles his nose against your neck. Panting to catch his breath. "Holy shit is right." He gives his own little giggle because he's feeling so loose and good.
“Let me know when I’m getting too heavy.” With your forehead pressed to his shoulder and the feeling very slowly returning to your extremities, you’re still not sure about moving immediately. “My legs aren’t working yet. You turned them into jelly.”
"You can stay right here as long as you want." He promises with a grin, his spent cock twitching inside you. He will have to hold to condom when he pulls out, but it's worth it. "Want me to read to you now while you recover?"
The awe and adoration in your expression when you pull back from him is unmistakable. He’s going to read to you post-coitus?! “You’re actually perfect,” you sputter out in disbelief, though you’re absolutely not saying no.
He chuckles and sends you a warm smile. "It's the least I can do," he teases, "since you did all the work." His hands slowly caress your spine and he’s enjoying the way you feel against him.
“And I’ll gladly do all the work again for round two if that’s the response I get.” Not even teasing, you nudge your nose against his and steal a kiss, savoring the taste of perspiration mixed with Marcus’s kiss.
He hums against your lips and slides his hand up to hold you in place to deepen the kiss. "Thank you." He murmurs when he pulls away. "For this. For making it easy to enjoy the best damn date I've had in a long time."
“No need to thank me.” There is so much softness in it that you melt a little bit more, nuzzling into him right there in his lap. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time trying to make sure our second date beats it.”
It makes him laugh, a giddy, carefree sound and he sigh happily. "We should just keep it going then." He decides. "That way we don't have to think of ideas to top this."
You could float away on the sound of his laugh, just reveling in this joyful energy. All the same, you pull back again and find his eyes carefully. “You asking me to stay the night, handsome?”
"What kind of date would I be if I sent you home when your legs are Jello?" He asks playfully, leaning in and nudging your nose with his. "Especially since it's my fault."
“Fault. Generous gift. Same thing.” You both grin, indulging in more kisses until you’re sighing into him all over again. “In that case, I think we should go upstairs,” you murmur. “Read in bed until we either want to go again or fall asleep.”
"Do you want some water?" He asks softly, knowing you might be thirsty after all that work. "I can get you some before we go up?"
“Perfect gentleman.” You hum softly, knowing you need to climb out of his lap but wanting one more kiss first. “Water would be amazing.”
He gives you another lingering kiss, smiling against your lips when you start to pout as you lift off of him. He slides his hand between you to hold the base of his cock, keeping the condom from moving. "Good. My room is the last door on the left." He tells you. "I'll be up in just a second, as soon as I get rid of the condom and get some water."
"Okay." Even though you pause to gather up your stuff, you don't bother getting dressed. Sauntering upstairs naked has an air of comfort and unexpected sexiness to it that you can't deny, but you do stop off in the bathroom to do the extremely unsexy task of cleaning up and having a quick pee. By the time you get out, you barely have a second to slip under the covers before Marcus appears in the doorway.
"Bottle of water, like the lady ordered." Marcus put away the cheeseboard and wine, gathering up his own clothes before coming upstairs. He wants to make sure you are comfortable. Grinning, he walks over in his boxers to hand you the water. "Need anything else, sweetheart?"
"A little company, that's all." Did he manage to get more attractive in the less than five minutes you were apart? That's wholly unfair.
"Company I can definitely provide." He smirks slightly as he walks around the bed to climb in beside you. "Comfortable? Need another pillow?"
"Not gonna lie." As he slides in next to you, you move toward him like a magnet. "I was kind of hoping for a human pillow."
"That's my favorite type of pillow to be." His arms open up to let you settle against him. "Especially when I'm going to read to you."
"Absolutely perfect," you murmur happily, laying your head down on his chest as he picks up the book. Tonight really was, without a doubt, the best date you've ever had. You're going to have to do a hell of a job hosting the next book club meeting as a thank you.
He picks up reading again, basically just starting over. Keeping his voice low and the only light is from the lamp on his bedside table. Letting the atmosphere stay intimate. It might be the first date, but it was going to hopefully the last first date he has.
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury
My Masterlist!
#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Marcus Pike#Marcus Pike x you#Marcus Pike x reader#Marcus Pike x female reader#Marcus Pike x f!reader#The Mentalist#Mentalist fanfic#blind date
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Netflix & Chill
Marcus Pike x Female Reader
18+, MDNI
Summary: You spend your fifth date with Marcus at his place watching Netflix.
Or
You might be in your thirties, but you can still Netflix and Chill.
Warnings: fluffy smut. Kissing. Little bit of dirty talk. Fully clothed. Marcus just being the love of my life the entire time.
AN: Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. I am too busy having my brain absolutely disintegrated by thoughts of Agent Pike. I am sick over him. Down bad. Wanting to rip off my arms and beat myself senseless with them over him. Leave me alone!! But also leave me nice comments because I’m a slut with a praise kink lol. Thank you so much for reading 🤎
Graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics
Moodboard by me
“Oh god,” you whimper, both of you are fully dressed. You’re caged under his strong body as he pushes his hips down on you. You can feel his cock through his grey sweats and your thin, black yoga pants. The credits of whatever movie you were watching rolled in the background.
“Is this ok?” He asks, kissing at your neck and earlobe. The soft, fuzzy brown blanket falls around both of you, encasing you in his earthy and citrus scent.
“Ya, please don’t stop.” You writhe under him, feeling that familiar tingly pressure building. He smiles into the crook of your neck.
It was your fifth date with Marcus Pike, FBI agent and potential man of your dreams. In his younger years, he probably would have already slept with you by now. But age has made him a man of patience and waiting. Only giving what he’s willing to let go of, what he can nurture and grow. And for the first time in a long time, he thinks that might be you.
“I won’t stop, baby.”
Baby, shit. He panics internally. He’s only called you by your name until now. He nervously looks over at you and you smile sleepily.
“I like that,” you mumble.
“Which part?” He asks his voice like warm oil along your skin. “Me grinding into what I’m sure is the most beautiful pussy in the world, or the kisses on your soft, slender, vanilla scented neck, or me calling you baby?”
Your legs start to shake around him as you pull him in to kiss him hard. You sweep your tongue along his bottom lip. He tastes like the popcorn and expensive Cabernet Sauvignon you were both drinking.
“All of it,” you say between kisses.
He pulls away, bringing his hands to your face and gently wiping the few loose hairs that stick to your skin, then drags the tip of his nose down yours before resting his forehead against yours.
“You’re truly so beautiful. I’m so happy I met you, baby.” He pushes his hips into you harder and a pornographic moan fills the room as the trailer for whatever Netflix is suggesting next plays. “Sound so pretty too.”
“Marcus,” you say wantonly.
“I know. I’m here.” He says, eyes still locked on yours, one thumb making sweet, soft circles on your cheek while his other slips behind your head.
Your hands bunch into his white t-shirt. “I’m gonna cum,” you moan, letting his coca-cola coloured eyes wash over you, and drench your whole body in carbonated pleasure. Sparkling, bubbling, fizzing over the edge.
“I’m right here, honey.” He whispers, pushing into you a little faster. Your body jolts into his as you suck in quick, shallow breaths.
“Ohgodohgod. Mar-Marcus,” your walls clench tightly around nothing as he hits at your puffy, sensitive clit through your pants at the perfect tempo and pressure.
“Relax, baby. I got you.” He encourages and then you fall apart for him. Your body twitches on its own accord as your orgasm rolls through you for what feels like an eternity.
“That’s it,” he whispers, stilling his hips. “Just take. That’s a good girl.”
You clamp your eyes shut as you reach the top of it. “No, look at me, baby. You’re so beautiful like this.”
Pink flushes your cheeks at his words and the blood that seems to not know where to go in your body. Everything feels like it’s being doused with warm water as you finally come over the edge and the fluttering of your pussy slows.
His eyes dance around your face before he kisses your forehead, and the tip of your nose. You smile into his lips as he places a light and lingering kiss on yours.
“Are you okay?” He says sweetly, pulling back slightly.
“Ya, that’s was…” you search his face for any hint of regret but all you see is admiration. You finish with, “…unexpected, but amazing.”
As he starts to respond, a whipping sound followed by a moan comes from the TV. Both of your heads turn towards it.
“Netflix is suggesting 50 Shades of Grey,” he laughs.
“That’s more of a seventh date thing for me,” you say flatly as his face whips back to you. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction. Both of you now laughing as you sort yourself back out, cuddling into him to find a new movie to “watch” next.
Taglist:
@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @keylimebeag @pimosworld
@casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @jessthebaker
@jasminedragoon @pedroswife69 @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @pedroshotwifey
@mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @untamedheart81
Special tag for @survivingandenduring because I know you share my love of this man.
#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal characters#pedro stories#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal fanfiction#marcus pike x you#marcus pike fluff#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike#the mentalist#marcus pike smut#netflix and chill
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make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: friday
pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader
warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, smutty smut-smut, this is an 18+ chapter so minors dni, no use of y/n, second person pov
word count: 6.7k
summary: buckle up people, because this is a long one! tonight is the night: the night you and marcus' dessert menu goes live, the night you meet natalie berzatto, and the night that truths are revealed.
a/n: is it hot in here or is it just me? who's ready for some smut? this will be the last chapter i post till sunday/monday, so we can all sit with this. hear me out: it's not that i think carmy is really good at sex. but there's so much tension between these two, i think reader is good at sex, and there's something to be said for being so turned on by the other person that it just hits different.
and here is that song -- the jazz standard turned acoustic cover.
read: part three | masterlist
Friday
“Just remember that we don’t have to reinvent the wheel here. You just have to deliver a really damn good dessert time after time,” you instruct, setting Marcus up, pre-dinner shift.
“I think we should focus on the burnt basque cheesecake in lieu of the classic. You already have a heavier lift on the bake for the chocolate cake. That way, whatever happens with the mixer, or the ovens… this version of cheesecake is pretty forgiving. And you don’t have to fuck around with a water bath just yet.”
“The tiramisu is perfect because it’s a no-bake option, and you can mix it up with different kinds of flavors – call it a special.”
“Like what we’re doing Sunday?” Marcus suggests, in reference to the strawberry, lemon, and mascarpone version you be doing at the end of the week.
“Exactly,” you reply.
“Hell yeah.”
“It all fits into the menu so nicely too: elevated classics.”
“A play on tradition.”
“Exactly."
“Ah, I see you, chef,” Marcus nods along, excited about tonight’s R&D night.
The game plan is to serve smaller portions of each dessert for the price of one, then get feedback by the end of the weekend.
“Hey, family’s up in a minute. You guys ready to roll tonight?” Carmy asks, stopping by you and Marcus’ little pastry corner.
“Yes, chef,” you both answer, in staggered timing.
“She got me workin’ on a strawberry compote. Here, try it, chef,” Marcus encourages, grabbing a clean spoon and scooping out a spoonful from the deli container it’s been stored in. Carmy takes it, putting the spoon in his mouth and he tries the compote.
“That’s gonna be really good with the tang and slightly bitter outside of the burnt cheesecake. Good work, chef,” he congratulates, inspiring a grin across Marcus face.
“I’m learning so much from you. Seriously. Thank you, chef,” he says, turning to you.
“Hey, you’re the one that made the compote,” you reply, redirecting the praise back to him. “Just sayin’.”
“Family’s up!” Sydney calls out to the whole kitchen.
You lock eyes with Carmy, and he nods towards the front of house as if to say, ‘follow me.’ You and Marcus file in through the limited space that leads from the kitchen to the front counter, then finally, into the dining area of the restaurant. Carmy had told you all about the hellish remodel of this place – that the two tops, booths, and bar remodel had taken for-fuckin-ever. That it looked like nothing more than a diner with a few arcade games before the reopen.
“Hey, thanks for jumping in so that Angel could cover me the other night,” Ebrahim says to you, as you find a seat next to Carmy, and across from Marcus.
“Oh, it’s no problem. You feelin’ better?” you ask back.
“Very much so. A little rest and a little maraq digaag and I’m good as new,” he answers.
“What’s good, Jeff? Surprised you’ve stuck around this long. Glad we haven’t scared you away yet,” Tina greets.
Carmy’s shocked, considering Tina rarely warms up to anyone.
You chuckle in response.
“It takes a lot more to scare me away, chef,” you reply, confident that you can keep up with everyone’s witty banter. Even though you’ve been welcomed in over the last few days, you know that they were a family before you came.
And will still be one after you.
Right. Because this is temporary. You’re only here for a week, you remind yourself.
“Yeah, thought she’d be long gone after workin’ the line the other night,” Richie chimes in. “Especially considering she’s way out of your league, cousin.”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Carmy shoots back, almost instantly.
“I’m just glad you’re here now. Man, it’s been three days and you’ve leveled my shit up already,” Marcus compliments.
“Besides, it’s nice to have some solidarity amongst the little boys club we work in every damn day,” Sydney points out, eliciting a scoff from Richie.
The two of you share a look, like a psychic high five or some shit. It begins to dawn on you that you could get used to this: this kitchen, these people….
“What? You got something against women supporting women, Richie?”
“Oh, so what? You’re the voice of feminism now, Syd?” Richie spits back. “Holy shit! Did you guys know that we were here in the presence of the new voice of-.”
You watch as Tina and Gary slump in their chairs, as if to say, ‘here they go again.’
“Don’t be such a prick, Richie. Oh wait.” Sydney challenges.
“You know what-?” Richie starts up, before being swiftly interrupted.
“Damn, Syd. This is fantastic,” you interject, your voice louder than normal, in reference to her family meal. “These tostadas are fuckin’ perfect and I’m gonna need the recipe.”
Richie continues to go on about god knows what, distracting himself, as Sydney mouths a, ‘thank you’ across the table towards you. You nod towards her as if to say,
I got you.
*
“Hey, I’m a little behind on plating. Sorry, chef,” Marcus apologizes, and you can tell he’s stressed. He gestures towards the plates that are ready to go out to the bar.
He hesitates before asking, “Oh and uh… these ones are ready to go out. Can you-?”
“‘Course, chef,” you answer, a mini-pep talk coming his way. “But uh… before you keep going, Marcus, take a breath. I know you struggle a little with pacing – you want everything to perfect – but, it’s gonna come with practice and repetition.”
You can see that he’s flustered – a little frustrated even.
“Expediting during dinner is a whole other animal, and it’s just night one. You got this,” you reassure.
You and Carmy had such different leadership styles. While you both had come up in the same kind of kitchens, you didn’t like to yell unless you had to. You were here to teach, and you can’t remember the last time someone screaming at you had ever helped you learn something.
You’re more than happy to support him by taking these plates out. You spent the first half of dinner service plating so that he could get some face time with customers – since you’d be asking for feedback. Then you’d switch halfway through service. You also thought it might be good practice for him to lead, considering they’d need to hire more help with the new menus.
You take a look at the ticket, one dessert tasting - two people - bar top, before taking the dessert plates out to the designated seats at the bar. There’s a gorgeous blonde woman sitting next to a guy in a sweater vest, as you make to approach the bar top.
“Hi, you guys,” you greet, a cheerful smile on your face. “Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re testing out a few new desserts for our dinner menu, so I’d love to hear what you think.”
“Oh this looks great,” the woman says, looking at both perfectly plated desserts.
“Here we have a burnt basque cheesecake with a strawberry compote, The Bear’s signature chocolate layer cake, and then a classic Italian tiramisu,” you explain, walking through each piece.
“Wow,” the man marvels, almost as if he’s surprised.
You share your name with them, and let them know that, if they have any feedback, that they can ask for you. As you turn to go, the woman calls after you, stopping you.
“Wait,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You’re Carmy’s friend.”
“Yes.”
“Pete, it’s Carmy’s friend!” she exclaims, nudging the man next to her with her elbow to try to jog his memory. “You know! The one that’s staying in our airbnb.”
“Oh!” he says, as the light bulb goes on in his brain. “Yeah, we’ve heard all about you.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman apologizes. “I’m Natalie, his sister, but you can call me Sugar. This is my husband, Pete.”
“Oh my god! Natalie! Yes, I’ve heard so much about you too,” you reply, finally registering that this was the same woman in family photos that Carmy had shown you years ago. “It’s so nice to put a face to the name. And great to meet you too, Pete. Seriously, thanks for letting me stay at the place. I mean, you really didn’t have to.”
“Likewise,” she says back. She scoffs before rolling her eyes and continuing. “Leave it to Carmy to ask us for a favor and not even introduce you to us, that soft shitty bitch!”
“Babe,” Pete starts. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Carmy, you know, in front of his-.” He gestures towards you and you’re not sure what he thinks you are to Carmy.
Sugar brushes him off with a, ‘whatever,’ before you notice that they’re both in need of clean forks.
“You guys need clean forks. I’m gonna-,” you start.
“Oh no! I uh-, let me get it,” Pete interrupts, practically jumping out of his seat.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” he agrees, leaving the two of you alone.
You lean against the bar top towards Sugar.
“Well, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” you say with a laugh, stating the obvious. She laughs with a nod towards her husband.
“Yeah he’s… special,” she replies. “I think he uh, I think he just wanted to give us some time to talk.”
You’re not sure what to say next, because you’re not sure what you and Carmy’s sister, one you’ve never met before, would have to talk about.
“So how’s the place? Do you have everything you need or-?” Sugar begins, in reference to the airbnb.
“Oh! Yeah, no it’s great. I’ve got everything I need. Again, thank you. You really didn’t have to do that.”
“No, we wanted to!”
“Thanks…” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable – nervous, maybe? Yep, definitely nervous, you realize, as you begin to ramble. “It’s a really great apartment. Beautifully styled.”
What the fuck are you even talking about, you think to yourself.
“Oh, I did that! Styled it, I mean,” Sugar’s quick to respond.
“Oh, wow!” you say. Were all the Berzattos creative? “Yeah, I just-, I really appreciate it. Made getting out here a little easier.”
“No, yeah, it’s-, it’s no problem,” Sugar continues. “Really… anything for a friend of Carmy’s.”
You’re not sure why it’s so awkward, and it feels like you’re somehow both dancing around something you’re not even sure you should be dancing around.
“I hope you don’t think I’m a total bitch for saying this but,” Sugar starts, cautiously. While she doesn’t want to make her brother look like a total loser in front of you, she’s also unsure of how else to say what she says next.
“Bear's never really had any friends… not a lot of them, at least. So I-. Thank you. I mean. For being his friend, I guess… is what I’m trying to say.”
Bear.
You figure it's a family nickname. You wonder why you’ve never heard it before, and yet, it’s no surprise that he kept it from you. He’d been so evasive about his family when you’d first met. For a bit, it just felt like a topic that was off limits.
You take a beat, processing what she’s just said. In some ways, you always knew that Carmy was a bit of a loner, but you could feel the weight of what she’s saying – how much it meant to her.
“I know he’s not always easy to love but. I don’t know. He acts like he doesn’t need people, and I know he does. I mean, people outside of this fucked up shit hole anyways,” she continues, gesturing to her surroundings.
You agree with a small laugh, “Yeah, he can be a real dick sometimes. That’s for sure.”
“Seriously. Thank you,” she says, genuinely.
“Of course,” you reply, making sure she knows that her words mean a lot to you. You take a more playful tone as you continue. “To be fair, we did meet in another fucked up spot. Not so much a shit hole though.”
“Yeah, and there’s that,” she sighs, lightheartedly.
“I’m just glad he has someone. He needs someone. Even when he doesn’t want to.”
The rest of dinner service is a blur, as your mind continues to incubate on what Sugar had said to you. You let your interaction with her sit there, but try your best to focus on supporting the rest of service.
You all work together to wrap up the evening – a chaotic dinner service with a lot of lessons learned. You and Carmy are the last to leave as you notice he’s wrapping up a few things in his office. With your jacket on, backpack slung over one shoulder, you stop by to say goodnight before heading out.
He’s sitting in the chair, furiously scribbling a few notes down on a few pages of graphing paper. Your eyes flicker over all of the silly doodles on the whiteboard behind him.
“Hey,” you say, causing him to look up from his notebook.
“Good service tonight,” he says back.
“Yeah,” you nod in agreement. “Desserts were a hit.”
“I heard,” he replies.
You wait for him to say more, only he doesn’t.
“So, I’m gonna get out of here. Marcus is gonna fly solo tomorrow morning, so I won’t be in till the dinner shift,” you start, shooting him a polite smile.
You take a few steps away from the office before he calls out to you.
“Hey!”
You stop, taking a few steps backwards so that you’re standing in the office doorway once again.
“You hungry?” he asks, tentatively.
There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify: a little nervousness, and something else you haven’t had a chance to name yet. It’s like he’s not ready to part ways with you yet. You smile back at him, hoping to quell whatever nerves he has about the question he just asked you.
“Always, Carm.”
You’re tired and your feet ache from a particularly busy service, but you’re not ready to part ways with him either.
“Watcha thinkin?” you ask curiously, sliding your other arm through the loose strap of your backpack.
“Can I cook you something?” he proposes, hopefully.
You laugh.
“Is that even a real question?”
You wait for him as he wraps up his notes and gather his things. Carmy slips on his jacket and ballcap, ready to head home with you. On the way, he lights up a cigarette, offering one to you, but you tell him that you’re trying to quit – or at least trying to cut back. It’s not a long walk back to his place, and you anticipate it being something along the same lines as what he had in New York: facebook marketplace couch, minimal food in the fridge, a TV and a bed.
Nothing else – just a place to sleep, before he spends most of his day at the restaurant.
When you arrive, you’re not surprised to see that your assumptions were correct. Carmy flips on a few lights as you follow behind him. You drop your book bag onto his couch, slipping your shoes off and removing your jacket, as Carmy bee lines for the kitchen. You hear the faucet turn on as you tentatively explore his small apartment, before meeting him in the small kitchen area.
He takes his time, washing his hands, before drying them on a dish towel and throwing it over his shoulder.
“So what are we makin’, chef?” you inquire.
“We aren’t making anything. You’re gonna sit right over here,” he begins, gesturing towards the area across from his gas stovetop. “Oh shit. Hold on. Let me grab you a-.”
“I’m good here, chef,” you interrupt, making a sound as you hop onto the kitchen counter. You immediately reach for the bag of chips he’s thrown onto it. It’s not even closed properly with a clip or anything so expect them to be stale as you pop one of the chips into your mouth.
“Sour cream and onion? Change up from your regular doritos, huh?”
A small smile spreads across his face as he moves around his kitchen, locating a quarter sheet pan. He opens his practically desolate fridge, pulling out a fresh brick of pecorino romano, guanciale, and a few eggs he throws right into the pint-sized deli container that lays on the sheet pan. The rest follow: an unopened pound of dried spaghetti and black pepper, before he gently places the sheet pan on the counter, beginning to preheat two pans on the stovetop.
“Are you-?”
“Uh huh.”
You smile to yourself. He’s making one of your favorites: carbonara.
The first time he’d made it for you, you had just started spending some of your days off together – had just agreed to be a part of each others' quarantine pods. You knew he had Italian-American heritage but it was blatantly obvious when you took your first bite.
“Holy fuck,” you had practically moaned at your first bite. “This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude.”
You had tried to convince him that this is the food you both should be cooking, but he vehemently denied the idea, insisting the fine dining was the highest on the food chain and the only way he could make a name for himself.
He’d been drinking the kool-aid. You both had.
You sit quietly, as Carmy works. You watch as he cuts perfect lardons, then renders the fat from the cured pork bits. The smell of the guanciale begins to fill the apartment, and Carmy opens a window, just to let the smoke dissipate.
“You can uh, put some music on if you want,” Carmy says, motioning towards the small bluetooth speaker he has on the coffee table. You agree to, hopping off of the kitchen counter and making your way towards his living area to set up the speaker.
You flip through your phone, looking for a good playlist to put on, settling on one of your dinner party playlists. The speaker booms with the sounds of an old jazz standard, redone as an acoustic cover, and you turn the volume up a little as the water for the spaghetti comes to a boil.
You spend time looking through Carmy’s bookshelf. It’s filled with thick-spined cookbooks from James Beard winning best restaurants and chefs. You drag your fingertips over the spine of a few classics, but settle on a fairly new book, written by someone at the New York Times.
“Do you have any other books besides cookbooks?” you call out to him.
He lets out a dry laugh and you take it as a no.
You make your way back to your spot on the counter, sliding the open chip bag over, before hopping back up to your seat. You flip through the cookbook as Carmy stays busy with the pasta.
It’s quiet moments like these that you’ve missed so much. Some days the two of you could talk for hours about sous vide vs reverse searing, and the right way to make a fucking bearnaisse sauce. Other days, Carmy wasn’t much for conversation, and you loved those ones equally. Sometimes, you just wanted company, so he’d come over and work on a recipe and you’d read while he worked in your kitchen.
You could just be together, and it was nice to feel that again.
No awkward tension of things left unsaid.
But there was a different kind of tension that seemed to linger between the two of you and you wondered if it had always been there. Had you just never noticed? Between the little comments from Richie about being out of his league, and Pete’s open-ended ‘not in front of his’ you wondered if everyone knew something you didn’t.
“Which one’d you go with?” he asks, continuing his graceful dance around the kitchen.
“Korean American. Eric Kim. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up a copy for myself yet, actually,” you answer, flipping through the first few pages.
Your met with quiet as you continue your story.
“You know we’re kind of friends. We went out for drinks a few times. Before I quit my job. Went dancing in the east village and stayed out till two in the morning bar hopping and gossiping about our mutual celebrity crush, Timothee Chalamet,” you add, your attention still fixed on the vibrant, colorful food photographs.
“Timothee Chalamet, huh?” Carmy asks, amused.
Your attention isn’t on Carmy, or what he’s doing, save for the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. That is, until you look up to find him unceremoniously close to you, peering over onto the page you seem so fascinated with.
“Jesus Christ, Car!” you gasp, surprised by his close proximity. Your heart was beating faster as he took a step back. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry,” he mumbles, his head hanging as he takes a few steps back. “Didn’t mean to.”
“No, it’s okay!” you assure. But it’s too late, so you change the subject, deciding to finish your story. “Anyways uh… I had to hang out with someone after you left New York. Make some new friends.”
“We both know you’ve never struggled with that,” Carmy points out, eliciting a playful eye roll from you.
He returns with the most aesthetically pleasing twirl of spaghetti carbonara. It’s so perfect you almost can’t fathom eating it. He hands it to you, then returns to his kitchen counter, plating a second bowl for himself.
After finishing the second twirl, he carelessly tosses his carving fork into the sink, opening another drawer to grab two forks for eating.
“Come on. You don’t want it to get cold,” he encourages, handing you one of the forks.
He waits patiently for you to try it first, so you dig your fork in, creating a spaghetti twirl that hugs the fork, before raising it up to your lips. You open your mouth, taking a bite, before closing your eyes in absolute bliss.
“I can’t fucking stand you.”
He smiles, and it’s the biggest smile you’ve seen on his face this whole week.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I mean. Fuck you. Like… absolutely fuck you.”
He laughs, finally picking up his own fork and digging into the second bowl he’s plate for himself.
Holy fuck, is it out of this world.
“Like, do you think they’re such a thing as a talent aggression? Like a cute aggression, only I want to squeeze your head off because you’re so damn talented-kind of aggression?” you pitch your idea to him, playfully.
He laughs, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “Uh… no. I don’t think so.”
Carmy rests his back against the counter, as you eat together, side by side. You eat quietly, exchange looks and quiet giggles as the two of you finish your pasta, slurping up the cheesy, egg-yolk coated noodles. When you finish your bowl, you put it down on the counter next to you, throwing your head back with a sigh.
“Thank you,” you say, fully satisfied as you feel the dopamine rush of eating carbs.
“That good, huh?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face.
“So good,” you exhale happily, as you rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know it, you asshole.”
He chuckles, turning his head towards you just as you lift your head off of his shoulder, your faces mere inches away from each other. You watch as his face turns a few shades darker, the blush across his cheeks running through his whole face.
Are you two fucking idiots to pretend that you were just friends?
Yeah. Yes, you are.
“Sorry, I’m, I didn’t mean to um,” he stutters, beginning to pull away from you.
“Wait,” you call out, reaching out to stop him. You grab his arm.
And there it is again… the tension. That thing that, even when you had talked it out, has remained between you two. He stops moving, his eyes fixated on your hand – the one that’s reached for him. The one that feels hot against his skin.
“Carm, I-. Um, I’ve really missed…” you stammer through, trying not to sound as breathless as you feel.
I’ve really missed you.
“... your carbonara.” He looks up at you with those beautifully sad, cerulean blue eyes, and if you weren’t breathless before, you certainly are now.
“You should make this more often,” is all you manage to get out, and you know you sound helpless.
He doesn’t know what to say back. That he can hear the ache in your voice – a yearning for him that he never imagined anyone could ever have for him. That it’d be world war three, trying to get a carbonara on the dinner menu. That screaming would ensue over a goddamn emulsion. That there’d be no way to pull this off authentically, and that he’d have to use heavy cream, and no fucking way would he compromise on that.
On your favorite fucking dish.
That he only has these ingredients on hand because he went out and bought them in preparation for your visit.
That he only got them for you.
Because he maybe only wants to make carbonara for you, and only you, for forever and ever.
That he’s missed you too, and that wanting you is one of the scariest things he’s ever felt.
His eyes flicker from your hand, the one still holding onto him, and then back to your face. He’s not sure what possesses him to do it, but he can hear his brother’s voice in his head, let it rip, pushing him to lean in – even closer towards you. You wrap your fingers around his arm, encouraging him closer to you – if it’s even possible. Your foreheads meet and it’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. It’s like your vision narrows and the dimly lit apartment has faded away behind you.
It’s just you and him.
You feel dizzy – in the most delicious way possible.
You’re not sure who moves in first, but the tip of his nose is ever so gently bumping against yours. You brush the side of your nose against his, neither of you daring to take a breath.
“Carm?”
He doesn’t answer, so you gently begin to leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth.
“This okay?”
Then the side of his top lip.
“Mhm,” he nods, eager to continue where this is going.
Then you pull back, pulling him towards you so that, as you remain perched on top of his kitchen countertop, he fits perfectly between your knees. You lean in to kiss him, and this time, it’s not as hesitant… not as cautious as you’ve both been.
No, these kisses are different, each one opening up the door to more and more – more want, more need, more lust – and as it blooms, as it blossoms, you feel Carmy’s hand move gingerly to cradle your face as you fall down the rabbit hole. Your fingers tangle into his blonde curls allowing your sheer want for him to consume you. It’s lips, and tangled tongues, and tentative, soft moans as you continue to pull each other closer and closer.
And you slowly begin to understand: the lingering tension, the avoidance of labeling you from his brother-in-law, why he’s been terrified to say a damn thing to you this entire week.
As much as you tried, and as much as he’s tried, neither of you had put that night behind you.
Sure, it was shitty timing, and sure he wasn’t in the right headspace then. But now?
Now, could be different, if you’d let it.
Carmy pulls away from you, reluctantly, his face hot before asking, “You uh, you wanna take this somewhere else?”
His tone is hopeful, as if he’s the teenage dirtbag asking the prom queen out – like if you heard him, and you laughed in his face, he simply wouldn’t survive it.
But your response is quite the opposite, and he feels silly for worrying, as you manage a breathy ‘yes’ going back in for one more kiss. He gives you some space to hop off the counter and you grab his hand, leading him towards his bedroom. It’s not a huge place, so you put two and two together about where that is. Carmy leaves the lights off in his bedroom, the only glimmer of light either of you can see comes from the living room lamps, and the kitchen overhead.
With his hand in yours, you pull him towards you again, and he’s more than happy to let you lead. You begin to kiss him, taking note of how perfectly his top lip feels nestled in between yours. He follows you down to his bed, hesitant to put his full body weight on top of you. You giggle into the kiss, pulling him down to you.
“I’m not a porcelain doll, Carm,” you tease, gently.
You feel his lips twist into a smile against yours, as he begins to leave sloppier, wetter kisses down your neck. You allow him to explore as his hesitation lessens, his hands beginning to bunch up the hemline of your shirt. Higher and higher. And before you know it, you’re taking it off, impatiently throwing it somewhere you’ll barely remember in the light of day. You pull Carmy back down for another kiss, this time with a little more intensity, as he covers his body with yours, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of newly revealed skin that he possibly can.
You’re not sure when his shirt joined yours on the floor but before it registers, you’re running your fingers across the muscles of his back, exploring each peak and valley. You hiss in pure pleasure as he pulls down one of the cups of your bra, his tongue running across one of your nipples. You can feel him smile against your skin, a well-won reaction from the pleasure he’s giving you. His other hand reaches up to give equal attention to your other breast, and moments later, you’re both impatiently pulling your bra off.
“Wanna try something,” Carmy murmurs, his eyes meeting yours.
You can feel the wet heat pooling between your legs as you breathe out, “Okay.”
The anticipation is building in your body and you feel like your head might explode. Carmy busies his mouth once again, leaving kisses down your torso as his hands begin to fiddle with the button on your jeans. You giggle, more than willing to help him out as he gets them undone, lifting your hips so that he can slide them off.
He’s hesitant, and you’re trying your damnedest to be patient as he takes his sweet time to marvel at your almost-naked body.
“So fucking perfect,” Carmy whispers, in between leaving wet, open mouthed kisses across your hip bones. You can hardly breathe, panting out loud as he continues his exploration. You make space for him between your legs as he slips his hands into your panties, dragging a finger up and down your dripping sex.
He checks in with you, gauging your reaction, and you nod as he continues what he’s doing.
“This all for me?” he asks. He means for it to sound confident, but as the words leave him, he sounds more surprised than anything.
Before you can answer, he’s pushing your legs wider, his tongue gently running across your clit, causing you to cry out to the gods. He’s tentative at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to gather up the confidence to keep going, with the noises you’re making. At first it’s all tongue, licking, circling and flattening up against you, but you’re losing your mind as he adds his fingers back into the mix. His fingers are buried deep inside of you while his lips and tongue are bringing you far past your edge.
It’s as if the only words you can remember are his name, and ‘fuck.’
You feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he murmurs, “Just wanna make you feel good.”
You can feel it – your climax – building up, and Carmy groans, rutting his hips into the bed as he can no longer ignore how hard he is.
“Carmy, yes. Don’t stop, please. I’m-,” you beg, your voice shaking.
And he has no intention of stopping till he gets what he wants – till he makes you cum. He works you through your orgasm, groaning against you as you cum on his tongue and around his fingers. You swear for a moment that you can’t hear a single thing as stars fill your vision. As you come to, it starts with only the sounds of the heavy pants that escape your mouth. Carmy sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“Holy fuck,” you say, breathless.
Carmy lays over you once again, kissing you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.
Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans and you order, no patience left in a single cell of your body, “Off. These need to come off.”
He chuckles, hurrying through the removal of his jeans. You’re so eager to feel the weight of his body on top of yours again that you pull him back down to you before he’s even able to properly take them off.
He’s kissing you again as you reach down, grabbing his hard length through his underwear. He’s thicker than you remember. You slip your hand into the waistband of his briefs, causing him to grunt. He hisses your name as you wrap your soft hand around his dick, bucking his hips into your hand.
“Do you have a condom?” you ask, desperately. “I wanna feel you, Carm.”
“Mhm.”
He doesn’t keep condoms around. It’s not like this happens very often for him. But Richie had thrown a pack of condoms at his head the minute he found out that the friend that was coming to visit was a girl. Richie had teased him with some stupid quip like ‘don’t forget to wrap it up, cousin. No one wants a mini-eleven madison park dickhead running around here.’
He hadn’t expected this to happen. But it’s not like he’d thrown the condoms away either – tucking them into the single drawer of his nightstand.
You wait as he reaches over and pulls out a condom from his nightstand. You want to ask him about why he has them, but as long as you get to feel him, you’re not sure you care.
You’ve been here before with him, but this is different. He sits up on his knees and you follow him, pulling his briefs down properly and giving him time to roll on the condom. He follows you back down onto the bed as you wrap a leg around his waist so that he can fit perfectly between yours.
He waits a beat, and then you feel his thick tip pushing against you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He rubs the head up and down your slick core, before slowly beginning to push into you.
You both gasp at the feel of each other.
“Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, dropping his head into the crevice of your neck. He hopes you can’t tell how utterly helpless he feels.
You hiss at the way he’s stretching you open, the pads of your fingertips digging into his arms. You’re holding onto his arms for dear life as he fills you all the way to the hilt. You let out another moan as you as he stays there for a moment.
“This okay?”
You nod, pulling him down to kiss you again. You start moving your hips against his as Carmy gives you shallow thrusts.
“Hold on,” he breathes out, holding your hips down for a moment. “Just-, just give me a second.”
And you do, allowing him to collect himself, before he’s giving you shallow, gentle thrusts.
But you’re in desperate need for more.
“Carmy?”
“Yeah?”
“Fucking move.”
Finally, finally, he pulls almost all the way out, before driving himself back into you, earning a cry from you as the pleasure is just too much.
“Oh fuck!”
You want more. You want everything and all of him and so much more. And he gives it to you, continuing to check in that what he’s doing is okay. Before you know it, you’re begging him to go faster, harder, convincing him that you’re not fucking breakable and that you want more, grasping at the sheets and his biceps, and his curls – anything you can hang on to as he’s bringing you over your edge again for the second time tonight.
You’re crying out his name as you cum, and Carmy thinks it may be the sweetest, best thing he’s ever heard in his life. He fucks you through your climax, beginning to slow down the pace of this thrusts. He pauses, kisses you long and hard, passionately pausing just to be in this moment with you.
“Carm?” you manage to get out. You wonder if he can hear how much you want him just by the sound of your voice.
“Hm?”
“I wanna ride you,” you say, and you can feel that your words have gone straight to his dick as he twitches inside of you.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The two of you clumsily change positions – him on his back staring up at you in awe, like how the hell does that perfect, beautiful, creature want to be here with me now? You reach down, guiding him back inside of you and you’re both gasping at the contact. You begin grinding your hips against him, watching his eyes roll back as you make your movement a little bigger.
“Jesus Christ,” he sighs out, the pleasure of it all taking over his brain.
You know he won’t last much longer as you begin to ride him, rocking your hips back and forth. Carmy hands are on your hips, then running up and down your torso, grabbing your tits, and then they’re pulling you down to him for another passionate makeout as you continue your movements. You can feel his thrusts becoming more erratic as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep riding him, reaching for his hands and placing them along your hips.
“Show me how you want it,” you whisper in between kisses.
“I think this is nice,” he manages to say.
“Show me how you want it, Carmen,” you demand, emphasizing your need for him with use of his full name. “Let me make you cum.”
You squeeze his hands against your ass, egging him on, and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve this. He holds onto your hips, before thrusting up into you, setting a bruising pace as your moans become louder and louder. You scream out his name, as he brings you closer and closer to your high, chasing his with him.
He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier, messier, more desperate and you let him use your body in the most delicious ways.
“Are you gonna cum?”
Instead of answering, he’s driving into you like a fucking mad man, and you’re riding him through his high till you both collapse.
Carmy lets out a strangled moan as he cums, so you begin to slow your movements. You’re breathless, hunched over him, your foreheads touching as you exchange a laugh.
It's a kind of 'I can't believe we just did that' kind of laugh.
“Holy shit,” he says, shaking his head.
“Yeah,” you agree, a stupid, blissed out smile on both of your faces.
“That was-.”
“Yeah.”
You get off of him, allowing him to get up and dispose of the condom. He’s not gone long before he returns to you, wrapping the both of you up in his sheets and into his arms. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever had.
It feels… magnificent.
“Stay with me tonight?” he asks, leaving a few soft kisses along your shoulder.
“After that?” you giggle, as his lips against your neck begin to tickle. “You’re not getting rid of me, Berzatto. Not a fucking chance.”
read: part five
taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney
#carmy berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto#carmy x oc#the bear hulu#the bear fx#jeremy allen white#carmen 'carmy' berzatto#the bear marcus#sydney adamu#the bear tina#richie jerimovich#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto smut
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Ok ok since these two cuties won’t leave me alone with their friendship 🤭 fic preview under the cut👩🏾🍳🧑🏼🍳
“Chef de Cuisine, Sydney Adamu of The Bear, has been nominated for the James Beard Award for Best New Chef, Casual Fine Dining, Midwest. As well as Executive Chef, Carmen Berzatto. Okay, it doesn’t read like that exactly, but you fucking get it.” Richie reads over the expo so the whole crew is in on what just happened.
Sydney just stands in place and Carmy wraps his arm across her shoulder for stability. Afraid she may crack into pieces or drop in shock. “You deserve it Chef,” Carmy beamed next to her.
“I couldn’t have done it without-“
“No no we are not starting that shit again. We are proud of you Syd!” He lets go so the others can give their congratulations properly.
She lifts her hands up to hide her face.
“We are mami! Bravo!” Tina reaches up for another hug and Syd tries her best not to breakdown again in her sous chef’s arms this time, but hugging Tina almost feels like hugging her mother and if she thinks to hard about it she might lose it again.
“I gotta hand it to you kid. I always knew you had it in you to get this shithole together.” Richie punches her shoulder lightly before she rolls her eyes back at him and accepts his pat on the back.
“Shit Syd, I always knew you had it in you!” Marcus daps her up then shakes her shoulder encouragingly. She can’t but share a big smile with him.
“You next Marcus! For real.” She looks up at him with assurance.
“Man that’s you and Carm all pressed for the awards and shit. As long as y’all keep letting me make whatever I want. And Carmy stops being a little bitch. We good.”
“I wish y’all would let that shit go already.” Carmy shakes his head.
“So when’s the big day?” Marcus asks them both.
“In a month.” Sydney responds rubbing her hands on her apron, ready to get back to her prep. She was not built to receive this much praise at once. Like yeah, she wanted a star and she wanted the awards, but that almost meant that she would have to be perceived more and praised more and the only person’s attention she craved she finally has… for the most part.
“We gotta get you right Syd! But we got plenty of time. Can not represent the bear in your baggy sweaters and overalls.” Marcus ribs her in a playful way.
“Dude shut up! Let’s get back to work Chefs!” Sydney calls out to the kitchen so they can get the dinner prep done before their booked night.
Yes Chef!
Carmy taps his spoon against the back of his hand as his mind starts flooding with ideas, but instead of meat, sauce, and herbs, it’s fabrics, patterns, and stitch variations. It’s long limbs but tailored to perfection around soft curves. It’s bright colors that compliment deep brown skintones.
“Carm, hey.” Sydney snaps at his face quickly. “Where’d you go? Can you pass me the strainer?”
“Yeah, sorry chef. Um just thinking.”
#sydcarmy#I’ve been working on this for a couple weeks now#how convenient is that#platonic and messy#charged and sexy#now that we’re all completely dead from the golden globes win#I figured we deserved a little treat#don’t know when this is coming out lol#sydney x carmy#sydney adamu#carmen berzatto
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Teach Me Tonight - Part 3
[Part 1] [Part 2] Part 3: [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]
Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)
Rating: Explicit (5k)
Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Oral (M and F receiving), Phone sex, Dream sex, P in V sex, a sprinkle of SoftDom!Carmy at Reader's request, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink
Summary: With everything you had heard earlier, it seemed like sex was another facet of his life where he wouldn't let himself just enjoy stuff. "I want to make you feel good too," you insisted.
It was a foggy day, the cold of Chicago promised a quiet afternoon with few customers. Sydney showed up at the store and invited you to family, saying something about a surprise for Carmy. You quickly closed up and followed her back to the restaurant. Most of the staff knew you by now; Tina cupped your face lovingly, Nat hugged you, and Richie showed you to your seat. Everyone was there except Carmy.
"What's going on?" you asked Nat in a whisper.
"He didn't tell you? Of course he didn't tell you," she rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "It's his birthday," she said simply.
"Oh!"
You felt a weight settle in your stomach. How could you not know? You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hide your nervousness and stopping yourself from crying at the same time.
"Oh, sweetie," Nat put her arm around you. "You shouldn't feel bad about it. He doesn't tell anyone. The only reason I know is because I'm his sister. We don't do presents or candles or sing because of all the- Well, you know," she gestured vaguely. You nodded.
You didn't know the whole story but Carmy had let you know bits and pieces of his unstable childhood and the fraught relationship with his Mom, from way before Mike died.
"But Syd wanted to cook something nice for him and Marcus wanted to test a cake recipe, so," she shrugged. You managed a smile. "He'll be happy to see you," she squeezed you to her side.
"Okay, everyone start eating and act fucking normal," Richie bellowed. "We don't want the birthday boy to feel ambushed or whatever. We're having a nice meal, with our neighbor, and there's a random ass cake here for absolutely no reason, okay?"
"Your ass is random, man!" Marcus replied from the other side of the table, cutting slices of what looked like tres leches cake. Fak chuckled between forkfuls of salad.
Sydney had already started passing plates around, it was lamb and salad and it smelled delicious.
"Thanks for inviting me," you told her once she got to you.
"I mean, you're practically family, right?" she smiled.
By the time Carmy appeared, you were all eating and talking, and he could sneak in and sit by your side almost unnoticed.
"What's all this?" he asked, looking frantically around the room.
"They asked me to come over for family," you smiled innocently. "It's very good," you added pointing at your plate.
"No, I mean-" he hesitated, his eyes kept searching for Nat. She was leaning against the door frame and when she saw Carmy, she put her fingers to the corners of her lips and pushed them up, to shape a smile. 'Be happy, okay?' she mouthed.
Carmy nodded, then looked down, a relieved smirk curving his lips. He tried to relax, leaning back on his seat and placing an arm behind your chair. He took the plate Richie brought him and started eating with gusto.
"So, you know?" he asked after a while.
"No presents, no candles, no singing," you repeated, knowing it would calm his anxiety a little. "I want to make a suggestion though."
Carmy turned his head quickly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," you smiled mischievously. "I think this cake should be like a staple at the restaurant. No way I'm waiting for your next birthday to have it again."
Carmy laughed. After his first bite of the cake he had to agree. "That's fire," he hummed.
His face looked bright and lovely. Your hand didn't leave his thigh for the rest of the meal.
You leaned against Carmy's side; he kissed the top of your head and sighed, burying the two of you deeper into the cushions of the sofa. It had been a beautiful day. With his arms around you, you asked him.
"Why don't you like presents on your birthday?"
"Uh- I'm not sure," he replied honestly. His fingers drew pretty shapes on your shoulder. "I guess if you're not expecting anything then you can't be disappointed, right?"
"I get that," you said after a while. "I just think it's a waste that I sell vintage, and you love vintage, and you don't ask for presents, you know?" you added playfully.
He smiled. "I guess. I think I like it better when it's on a random day, for no reason at all."
"Yeah," you nodded. "Can I do something nice for you, though? Just because I want to, not because it's your birthday," you clarified.
He turned to face you. "Uh- Okay."
You disentangled from his embrace and knelt between his legs on the floor . He tilted his head in confusion. You smiled and grabbed a hair tie from your pocket, making a show of putting your hair in a ponytail. Carmy's eyes widened when your hands ran up and down his thighs, slow, sensual motions that sent shivers up his spine.
"You don't have to-" he started protesting.
"I want to," you said.
It had come up a couple of times. You'd offer to reciprocate after he'd eaten you out and he would refuse, saying he would rather be inside you. With everything you had heard earlier, it seemed like sex was another facet of his life where he wouldn't let himself just enjoy stuff.
"I want to make you feel good too," you insisted.
He seemed torn, one of his hands reaching to caress yours.
"You're absolutely free to say no. There's other ways we can have fun but don't say no just because you feel you don't deserve it, Carm. You do. I promise," you said earnestly.
He bent over to kiss you fiercely. "Alright. Yes. Please," he said.
You moved slowly, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his trousers, watching the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing became more erratic. You pulled his trousers down, towards you, and started touching his thighs gently, raking your fingers through the coarse hair that went down his stomach, palming at the growing bulge over his boxers.
"Uh-" Carmy swallowed. "I have never- So if I don't last just-"
"Hey, it's okay," you reassured him. "Listen, if you last five seconds but you enjoy it, then I'm happy."
He laughed at that and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll aim for six then," he quipped.
You removed his boxers carefully, his cock was already hard. He groaned when your breath touched his bare skin. You suspected he was right, he wasn't going to last, so you tried to make it worth his while.
You started by kissing his head, licking the drop of precum in a quick flick of your tongue. It made him shudder with pleasure - and it made you feel powerful, the effect you had on him.
"Let me know if there's something you don't like," you said, your right hand closing loosely around his shaft. He nodded. He was hardly moving and his hands were fisting the cushions of the sofa. "You need to breathe, Carm," you reminded him, your voice had turned husky. You took one of his hands and placed it on your head, his fingers intertwined around your ponytail and you heard him exhale. "Good."
You leaned forward again, kissing around his head, making the kisses open mouthed as you went, letting him get accustomed to the feeling of your lips on him. Your hand started pumping his length, softly, no rhythm to it yet, more a caress than anything.
"You're going to fucking kill me," he rasped, his hand holding tighter to your hair, loosening the ponytail when he massaged your scalp. You moaned against his skin, which made him writhe his hips in return.
You opened your mouth, taking the first couple of inches of him. You couldn't deep throat, but he didn't seem to mind- your hand was pumping and making up for the rest of his length. He moaned and it made your pussy tingle.
"You sound so pretty, Carmy," you praised. He chuckled, out of breath.
You licked the length of his shaft, wetting it enough to help your hand glide easier. You took him again, a little deeper this time, not far enough to make you gag, just enough that he threw his head back in pleasure, the veins of his neck visibly pulsing and his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried in vain to breathe normally. It was all quick gasps and the occasional groan. That was enough teasing, you decided.
You started going back and forth, the rhythm of your mouth echoed with your right hand, the left rested on his knee. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding tight.
"Please, don't- don't stop," he begged. His face was downwards now, looking you straight in the eye, his pupils were blown and his mouth hung open. "It feels so fucking good. Please, please..."
You sped up, hollowing out your cheeks, moving your left hand so that you were sinking your nails into the muscle of his tattooed forearm. Your underwear was wet with arousal and the sounds he made weren't helping, you pressed your thighs together to get some relief and ended up moaning on his cock.
"Holy fucking shit," he gasped. "I'm sorry, I'm gonna-"
You felt him twitch inside your mouth, every muscle in his body growing tense. He groaned over and over, going quieter each time, letting go completely. Salt covered your tongue in spurts and you did your best to swallow most of it, a little bit of it fell down the corner of your mouth. You slowed down, pumping him until he pulled you off his softening cock, mumbling something about "so good" and "too much". His hand let go of your hair and cupped your face, his eyes were glazed over and blissed out, a loving look to his sweaty face.
"So fucking good," he managed to say in an exhale. His thumb cleaned the drop of cum off your chin - so carefully, so gently that it warmed your insides. "You're beautiful."
You laughed in disbelief but then you remembered how gorgeous he looked when he emerged from in between your thighs, half of his face completely wet, a turned on blush on his cheeks...
He pulled you up on his lap and kissed you senseless, his tongue caressing your tired lips, humming contentedly into you. You were both a mess: him naked from the waist down, you with your hair completely undone and your underwear soaked.
"Best birthday I've ever had," he said against your lips, his forehead to yours. "Thank you."
You smiled. "You're welcome. Happy birthday, Carmy."
~
You had slowly gotten used to sleeping in a bed that smelled like Carmy. Whether it was at your place or his, even if the sheets on his side were cold they still had a hint of salt, smoke, and his expensive aftershave.
"Get a fucking grip," you reprimanded yourself in a low voice.
Call me when you get home?
You sent the text before you could chicken out. He wouldn't leave the restaurant for another hour or so, so you settled on the hotel room bed, the unfamiliar cream colored covers suffocating, the sound of a movie on the TV only making you more antsy.
When the phone rang, it was a little before midnight. You were comfortable and warm - and completely awake.
"Hey, you okay?" Carmy's voice sounded raspy on the phone.
"Yeah, everything's fine. I just- I couldn't sleep and-" you chuckled without a hint of humor. It felt silly: it was an overnight trip, you were staying at a nice hotel, and you couldn't sleep because Carmy wasn't there. It was so fucking silly. "Never mind. I'm okay, it's late. I'll see you tomorrow night."
"Hey!" Carmy stopped you from hanging up. "Talk to me. What's up?"
"Fuck," you looked at the ceiling. "I don't know. Nothing bad happened. Actually, the estate sale went great. Uh. This lady had a big collection of dresses, fifties and sixties, beautiful pieces. And shoes! Just tons of them, barely used, Gucci and shit."
"And you got them?" Carmy asked, you could almost hear him frowning.
"Yeah! It's all good stuff and I think it will sell well too."
"That's good," he said, his tone soothing. "So, what's wrong?"
"Uh- I don't know," you repeated. "I came back to the hotel and it was so- just so fucking quiet and it feels wrong, you know?"
Carmy hummed in agreement.
"I get it," he said after a beat. "When I got here, uh, the apartment was very fucking quiet too. Creeped me out a bit."
You sighed. Maybe it wasn't so silly.
"It helps, though," you said after a beat. "Talking with you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you smiled. "How was your day?"
"It was absolute shit," he replied.
"Too bad I'm not there to fuck about it," you said.
Sometimes, when Carmy's day was too bad to even talk about, you would fuck - hard and fast - and then talk about it. Hence, fuck about it.
Carmy chuckled. "Yeah," you could hear him exhale as he fell heavily on the couch or the bed. "That would actually help a lot."
You bit your lip, feeling your stomach flip a little. "Um, Carm?"
"Mmm?"
"I know you said you hadn't been with anyone before me-" you prompted. "Does that mean you never had phone sex either?"
He coughed loudly on the other side of the line. You pictured him choking on his own cigarette smoke, a deep blush to his cheeks.
"Sorry?" he asked after a moment.
"I mean that we can still fuck about it... If you want," you offered. "You know, you can say what you would like to do to me, or maybe tell me what I should do... That sort of thing."
"Uh," he hesitated. "I do- I'd like to try but I- I'm not good at playing pretend, you know? Never been, not even as a kid."
"If I do the talking? Would that be better?"
"Maybe?" his voice sounded ragged but not just from coughing.
"I've never, uh, taken the lead before but that would, like, even out the playing field, right?" you reasoned, your heart beating faster.
"What- what would that be like?"
"I could tell you about the nice pajamas I'm wearing," you lowered your voice. "The blue ones?"
"With the shorts and the little bows?" Carmy asked. "You look good in those..."
You opened your legs, your free hand playing with the elastic of your shorts.
"I wish you would take them off for me, Carm. I wish you would touch me like only you know how. I want your fingers inside me," he cleared his throat on the other side of the line. "Would you like to do that?"
"Yes," his voice was breathy, "I would, yes."
"I want you to do something for me, Carmy," you started teasing between your legs over the fabric of your shorts. "Remember when we first fucked? You closed your eyes and touched yourself to get hard again. Can you do that?"
"Yeah. Yeah," you could barely hear his intake of breath and it still made you shiver.
"You looked so fucking hot, I still think about it when I finger myself," you confessed. You could picture him clearly, the veins of his arms and neck bulging, his head thrown back.
"Shit..." he rasped.
"Can you hold the phone close, Carm? I want to hear you while you touch your cock."
"I want to hear you too... Ah, fuck!"
The sound made you curl your toes with anticipation. You got your hand inside your underwear and traced lines on your folds, caressing slowly.
"I'm already so wet," you said. "Are you hard for me, Carmy?"
"So fucking hard," he drawled and you moaned.
"What would you like me to do?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. "If I was there, Carm, what would you like me to do?"
"Ri- Ride me," he managed.
His breathing was a quick staccato that made your hand pick up speed, spreading wetness around your clit. You sat up on the bed, imagined Carmy underneath you, holding tight to your hips, your hands on his sculpted chest.
"How? How do you want me to- oh, God- ride you?"
"Just- hard," he groaned but it was a muffled sound, he was holding back.
"Carm..."
"I want you to fucking wreck me," he blurted out.
If he felt like he had fucked up, like he had done something terribly wrong at the restaurant, he liked it to hurt a little, you knew that by now. Maybe the rhythm was punishing, maybe it was way too fast, maybe you denied him his orgasm for a while. Anyway, he was atoning.
"I want you to touch you like I would, Carmy," you said. "Can you do that for me? Put lube on your hand, hold your cock tight, and go as fast as you can, okay?"
"Yes," it was barely a whisper. But suddenly you could listen - deep growls from way within his chest, rhythmic gasps that grew quicker and quicker. You struggled to catch up with him, your middle and ring fingers pumped in and out of you in tandem with his sounds.
"Oh, fuck," he rasped. "I can hear it. Jesus Christ."
"It's not the same without you, Carm," you said honestly. Your hand was wet to the palm but you still wanted that fullness only he could make you feel. "I need you inside me, I need you."
"Oh, fuck!"
He got quiet for a second, then groaned a few times, your pussy clenching while he did. You were so close. He sighed into the speaker, relieved and spent - you wanted to be happy for him but you were still on the edge and desperate for release. You kept moaning.
"Have you come?" Carmy asked.
"Not yet," you managed to say.
"Shit."
"I'm close though. Just stay on the line, please."
You could feel it slipping out of your grasp. It wasn't enough to have him listen, you needed something to hold on to. You let out a needy whine.
He read your mind, and in that fucked out voice he said: "That was- holy shit- that was so, so fucking hot. You made me come and you didn't even touch me," you fluttered against your fingers. "Can’t believe you're mine. You're my good girl."
He had never called you that. That was it. The tension within you snapped and you could breathe again. Eyes shut and forehead to the duvet, you could almost feel Carmy's hands touching up your back, tickling at your sides. You let out a shaky laugh.
"Fuck, Carmy. Fuck," you repeated, something warm settling in your belly.
"You okay?" he said. You had dropped the phone and you heard him far away.
You wiped your hand on your hip and settled back on the bed, tired and a little sweaty. You'd have to shower again in the morning but you found you didn't care right now.
"I'm okay," you replied when you could pick up your phone. "So okay. You?"
"So okay," he repeated with a chuckle.
"Okay," you let out a big exhale. "Now tell me about your day."
~
You were at The Bear, it was late at night, the lights were dimmed down and there were no patrons. You turned around and found the place empty - ghostly and quiet.
"Hello?" No one replied.
Now that you thought of it, you didn't know how you got there - couldn't remember, actually. But Carmy was suddenly there too, hands on his hips, wearing his pristine chef's whites. The blue of his eyes popped with the ambience lighting in a way that felt supernatural.
"Carmy," you called but he didn't move.
"On the table," he said brusquely, pointing with his head at the only piece of furniture left in the restaurant. There was no tablecloth or cutlery on it.
"What?" you asked.
"On the fucking table!" he yelled and you obeyed, sitting quickly on it, facing him.
"What's going on?" you asked.
He laughed - it wasn't his usual laugh, soft and floaty - it was a cruel sound, glass like.
"What's going on, sweetheart, is that I'm going to fuck you, on this table, until you come three times," he said and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Or until you beg me to stop, whatever happens first."
You didn't say a word, you couldn't: he kissed you violently, biting on your lip and grabbing your throat.
"Carmy, holy shit! Slow down," you pleaded when you parted to catch your breath.
He stopped but only to spread your legs wide open, his fingers digging into your thighs forcefully, then going up your skirt. He leaned to whisper in your ear:
"You sure you want that?"
His voice was low, caramel like, delicious. You ran a hand up his chest, fisting white fabric, bringing him closer.
"Good," he said. His fingers shoved your underwear to the side and teased mercilessly.
"Fuuuck," you whined as he made you melt in his hands.
He was touching you just right, having you soaked and pliant so fast it left you dizzy. He thrust two fingers inside you and started pumping fast, his thumb circling your clit - you thanked your stars that you had showed him early on where it was. Your moans grew louder and longer.
"Are you gonna cum for me?" he asked but it sounded like an order.
You nodded frantically.
"Are you gonna let me bend you over this table, fuck your pussy as hard as I want?"
"Yes, please, fuck," you whined.
Just before the knot within you could unravel, the bright light of morning rushed through the window and made you squeeze your eyes and cover your face. And suddenly you weren't at The Bear, you were at Carmy's place, warm in his bed. It was Sunday, you remembered.
"Oh, fuck," you mumbled.
Carmy was right next to you, twisting to face you as he woke up too.
The mornings you shared were few and far between, the occasional day off, the days when you had to get up early to take a train for a sale out of town... They were precious, you loved to see Carmy with sleepy eyes, reaching out for you from under the covers. You smiled and stared at him.
"Morning," you said, feeling a little weird about your dream.
"Mornin'," he slurred with his eyes closed. "You sleep okay?"
"Uh-huh," you tried to sound casual. "You?"
"Yeah," you let him pull you in closer, his nose brushed the side of your neck. And his hard on brushed your thigh.
"Oh!" your heart raced - the one thing that still remained from your dream was the wetness between your legs.
"Shit," Carmy covered his face with his hand. "I'll, uh, I'll take care of it. Don't worry about it."
You cleared your throat nervously. "Actually-"
You didn't know where to begin so you simply grabbed his hand and showed him how wet you were, even through your underwear he could tell. His eyes widened.
"Wh- What- Why?"
"Uh, I dreamt of you," you said simply.
"What about?" he asked. You shrugged. "I mean, if you liked whatever happened in your dream that much, we could..." he let the offer float. He had that curious look about him.
You bit your lip. It had been good, so good. But it made you feel a little embarrassed about the things that you wanted, what they meant about you.
"We were- Well, you fingered me and- yeah," you hoped he would be satisfied with that.
"Oh," he sounded a little disappointed but he obliged. "Sure, we can do that."
He scooted closer still, his hand and the way he moved was gentle and sweet. And completely wrong. You took his wrist and stopped him.
Carmy looked up in concern. "Did I hurt you?"
You shook your head. "I'll- I'll tell you about my dream but promise me you won't laugh," you pressed your hands on his chest. He nodded solemnly. "Even if we don't end up doing it because it's not your thing just- Don't laugh, okay?"
"I won't," he promised.
"Okay," you took a deep inhale. "So I dreamt that we were at the restaurant. We were all alone, it was late at night and you- Well, you told me to get on a table and that you would make me come three times," you blushed furiously. "You kissed me and you fingered me. You said you would bend me over on the table and fuck me hard. And then I woke up."
"Shit," Carmy said.
"Yeah."
"Was I- Was I different?" he asked.
"You were a little mean."
"And you were into it?" nothing about his tone betrayed disgust or revulsion.
"I didn't think I would be, but yeah," you replied honestly.
Carmy ran a hand through his hair and stared at you for a little bit.
"You know I'm not good at the pretending thing," he said and you nodded. "But I think I can fuck you on the table until you come three times."
You felt like you had the wind knocked out of you.
Before you knew it, you were both naked, kissing in the middle of his kitchen, his hands under your thighs as he placed you on the table.
"I'm gonna need you to keep count for me," he said, lowering to his knees between your legs. That was the last thing he said before devouring you.
You knew Carmy was competitive but you didn't know it would extend to a dream version of him. He became laser focused: his only goal was to be a better lover than dream Carmy, make you come undone faster and harder than he ever could. Without preamble, he hooked two fingers inside you, curling non-stop, making you gasp for air. His mouth worked tirelessly licking and sucking at your clit, getting satisfaction every time you pulled at his hair. In minutes, he had you bucking your hips frantically, trying to fuck his face. You screamed and heaved and cursed, grabbing to the edge of the table for dear life.
"How many?" he demanded once he got up from between your legs, wiping his face clean with his forearm. His voice sounded rough and you could see a glimpse of the cut-throat chef he used to be back in New York. You felt the aftershocks of your orgasm go through you one more time.
"One," you replied.
He grabbed your hips and brought you down from the table, then flipped you over. You heard the condom wrapper hit the floor, then, immediately felt his breath on the back of your neck as he lined up his cock to your pussy. He wasn't careful before and he wasn't careful now, going all the way inside you in a swift motion. It was pleasure and pain in even measures, it was exactly what you asked for. Your knees trembled underneath you but Carmy held you upright.
"Holy shit," was all you could say before succumbing to the rhythm of his hips against yours.
It was slow, purposeful. One of his hands played with your nipples while the other pressed on your clit. It was too much. You took the hand on your clit and placed it on your neck instead, remembering the way Carmy had kissed you in the dream, holding you possessively. Your Carmy didn't press at all, he caressed the column of your throat with careful fingers, kissed the side of it with devotion. It made you melt onto the tabletop. The feeling of your bare chest on the wooden surface and the sound of his hips clapping against yours turned you on even more. It took you by surprise when you started fluttering on Carmy's cock, your release almost gentle, a series of soft needy moans the only outer indication that you had come.
When you regained your bearings, your cheek to the table and your ass up in the air, you said with an unsteady voice:
"Two."
One of his hands soothed down your spine, a silent question being asked: Do you still want to go on? Can you do one more? You reached for his hand and squeezed it, using the strength you had left to get off the table and turn to face Carmy. He was a sweaty mess, curls falling on his forehead, red in the face from edging his orgasm to give you three. You didn't think you could love anyone more than you loved him right then.
"Carmy."
"I'm here. I'm right here," he maneuvered you gently to lay on your back over the table, his eyes on yours. You hummed contentedly. He lifted your legs, placing one on each shoulder and giving you a shy smile - you realized he had actually read the sex book you had bought him as a joke. You giggled. He didn't do anything in half measures.
This time, his motions weren't calculated and cold. The tenderness when he soothed your back and caressed your neck had bled into everything else. His hips stuttered every now and then, his fingers touched your ankles gently, and his eyes were fixed on you. It was perfect.
"I'm close," you whispered, one of your hands playing with your chest, the other reaching behind you to the edge of the table. You felt weightless. "You can let go, Carmy."
It was all a blur: the swirl of electricity down your body, the beautiful sounds that you made together, and the feeling of him falling on top of you.
"Shit! I'm sorry I'm crushing you," he mumbled on your skin, his arms flexing as he lifted himself up. You looked up at him and cupped his face, the post-coital glow and the morning light making him look angelic.
"Thank you," you said and he smiled. "It was good, better than I imagined."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Right then, your stomach growled audibly. You covered your face with your hands, mortified. He peeled them off and leaned to nuzzle against your cheek.
"Pancakes?" he offered in a whisper.
You laughed and turned your head to kiss the tip of his nose. "Yes. Please."
[Deleted Scene]
[Part 4]
#still not done with this apparently#soon the virgin!carmy tag will be completely obsolete and it makes me a little sad#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy x reader#carmy x you#carmen berzatto fanfiction
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ok all tomfoolery aside. the bear season 2 really did fucking deliver. what a stellar follow up. i genuinely mean it when i say i stand by every decision they made this time around. they were intentional and they were inspired. most especially, they didnt waste time. like the kitchen's motto: they made every second count. i came out loving the characters more and also understanding their depths more. i felt like a kid just wide-eyed and in awe of whatever i was seeing on and hearing from my screen. theres just so much to love!! sydney's ambition and tenacity in full focus. carmy's emotional baggage heavier this time around. the inspiring development of richie and tina and ebra. marcus! natalie! pete! sydney's dad! the berzattos! their fucking mom! the way the cameos didnt feel cheap and show off-y but, again, intentional! these big stars playing as renowned chefs and important relatives so just like the characters we can go "oh shit that's...!"
and with the strike still going, i think it needs reminding (for me and for other fans who may have forgotten amidst all the buzz & excitement) that the writers were underpaid during the making of this. so make sure we can show them all the love and praises they deserve! to keep on watching and supporting and discussing and fighting (lovingly)! put pressure on these companies to agree to the writers' terms! let em know we want more! bc they did amazing work here! writers of the bear!!! MWAH!!!!!!
#the bear fx#wga strong#writers strike#sydney adamu#carmy berzatto#marcus the bear#natalie berzatto#richie jerimovich#jeremy allen white#ayo edebiri#liza colón zayas#ebra the bear#im just high on energy rn this show is very important to me thanks for pulling me out of my writing slump#i dont write for a living but i wish to be able to create on this level someday
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used by you
marcus pike x f!reader
A/N: Yeah. IDK, I started writing this on my lunch break because I can't fucking help myself and then couldn't focus on Jason when I got home until I got it finished (typical) so here we are. This might be very fucking shaky - I'm easing back into the writing thing so I'm sorry if it's not great lmao. Enjoy angels! x
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY. dom!reader, sub!Marcus, oral (f receiving), face fucking/grinding, degradation, praise, hair pulling, slight brief choking, dirty talk, brief use of colour system, mentions of free use
He’s on the phone when you quietly slip through his office door, and your heart warms at the wash of surprised joy that floods his face at your unexpected appearance. He holds a finger up to let you know he’ll be a minute before his attention drops to the papers strewn across his desk, and you take the opportunity to discreetly lock his door.
He takes no notice, too immersed in relaying case information and potential hits to hear the click of the latch. Success. You wander over to his desk, rounding the messy surface until you're able to perch on the edge just to the side of him, ensuring to keep the documents he needs out from under you.
It's been days, perhaps weeks, since you've seen him - well and truly seen him. Sure, he comes home every night to curl around you, when the pixels on your phone screen showcase some absurd early hour. Sure, he hovers in the mornings, long enough to coax you awake with the sweet roll of his lips against yours and it's just so damn lovely... but today? Today it's not enough.
The nights without him, where you're left with nothing but your fingers to try and ebb the throb churning deep in the pit of your stomach - they're torture. No matter how you do it, how often you do it, fingers stiff and tired from the exertion of hurtling yourself up yet another peak... it just doesn't work. The feeling remains, simmering just below the surface.
There's just some things that only he can do, and easing that hot, unrelenting ache is one particular skill that he's mastered over the course of your relationship.
Finally - God, finally - that fucking phone leaves his hand, and then he's looking up at you, giving you a soul shattering smile that does absolutely nothing to calm the wild fire growing along your veins.
Such a pretty boy.
"This is a pleasant surprise," he says.
Oh, sweet thing, you have no idea.
“You’ve been neglecting me, Marcus."
Your words stop him in his tracks, that beautiful smile ever so slightly wavering on his lips. A frown soon starts to follow, and for a moment he seems speechless. Tsk'ing lightly under your breath, you slide the small distance along the desks edge until you're fully in front of him, smoothing your hands along his collar until your fingers can pluck at and fix his skewed tie.
"Work, work, work—that’s all it’s been with you lately."
“Oh," he murmurs regretfully, throat bobbing above where your fingers play, "honey, it wasn’t my intention to—”
One quick tug of the tie and the words die instantly on his tongue. His eyes widen in surprise, darting between your own as the silky fabric cuts softly into the skin of his throat, and you tilt your head in faux confusion.
“Did I give you permission to speak?”
You see the moment it happens, where a dreamy sort of glaze rolls over his warm eyes and then he's softening in your hands, completely at your mercy. Completely yours. Tongue darting out across his suddenly dry lips, he gives a slight shake of his head, and you hum in quiet approval, loosening the tie back to its original state.
“Whatever will I do with you?" You muse as you fix the tie back into its usual perfectly neat knot.
The question is rhetorical of course, and he wisely keeps quiet. Your hands wander once you're bored of fiddling with the silky fabric, running along his broad shoulders and up his throat, thumbs smoothing over his cleanly shaven jawline and tracing over his plush lips that part under your touch.
"I've missed you," you murmur, leaning forward to steal a taste of them.
He exhales softly under the pressure of your mouth, lips yielding to yours and following their direction with ease. It's slow, so painfully slow and sensual and passionate, and it's glorious.
God, how you've missed him.
You've missed him, and the scent of his cologne, and the subtle wash of his shampoo. You've missed how he makes you feel; how one hand on the cheek makes you feel so delicate, so cherished and loved and wanted; how one wet stroke of his tongue against yours makes you practically dizzy with pure need.
It's all reflected back at you when you finally break away from him, swimming in those eyes that blink ever so lovingly up at you.
"Can you do something for me, sweet boy?"
"Anything," he whispers huskily, eyes fluttering when your lips ghost over his, "I'll do anything you want."
“Oh? Good. Get on your knees.”
The desk chair is kicked back immediately, and he soon drops to his knees in front of you, hands naturally coming to rest on his thighs. Those wide doe eyes never leave yours, waiting for your approval, your instruction, anything.
"There's that good boy I know," you breathe, gently carding a hand through his soft hair, heart thundering as he practically melts like butter under your touch. "Always so good for me, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am. Only for you."
"Good. Now, sweet, sweet boy, as for your apology for leaving me all on my lonesome for so long..." you lean back on his desk, bracing your weight on your elbows and slowly spreading your legs as far as your business skirt would allow, "get to work, and make it quick, Agent. You’re a busy man, after all.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He wastes no time in shoving your skirt up and out of the way, molten eyes darkening further when he finds no underwear in his path. The cool air hits your exposed pussy, the arousal built from days of no touch from him no doubt glistening noticeably along your folds in the harsh fluorescent office lighting.
"Fuck," he exhales sharply, before the firm stroke of his tongue glides agonisingly slowly along your slit.
The wet heat of his mouth soon encloses around your clit, and you hiss from the bolt of pure electricity that rockets along your nerves - finally. It's both a sweet relief and complete torment. It's almost too much with how sensitive you feel, how every little lick and suck to the nerve feels like pure fucking blissful agony.
He does as he's told, tongue rolling and smoothing and rubbing over your clit in all the delicious ways you like before diverting his attention elsewhere, dragging and pushing the thick width of muscle into your cunt and groaning when he feels you flutter around it.
Your hand flies to knot tightly in his hair, and you exhale shakily as another rough moan vibrates the very centre of you. God, you should tell him to keep it down, but even you don't care anymore.
Ever so slightly, you start to rock carefully against his face, using your hold on his short locks to keep him close and still as you start to find your pleasure at your own pace. Maybe it didn't have to be as quick as you thought, maybe this will be how you keep him for a little while.
"Colour?"
"Green," he replies hoarsely, lashes fluttering against his cheeks.
His hands fly to your thighs, digging into the soft flesh of them in an attempt for purchase, more noises spilling from his throat as you start to slide your wet cunt more firmly back and forth against his mouth, his nose dragging against your clit with every upwards roll.
“Oh Marcus," you mutter softly, chest heaving from the onslaught of ecstasy your body is being assaulted with, "what would your team think of you right now? Trembling at the desperation of being used, like some pathetic little fucktoy.”
He shudders heavily against you, panting into your cunt like a man starved.
“You like that idea, sweet boy? You want me to use you? Whenever I want, wherever I want it?"
He makes a strangled noise of approval, brows pulling together as his face pinches in euphoria. The mere idea of him being so fucking into playing your own personal sex toy aids in building that pressure building steadily in your core with every slick grind against his mouth.
Just a little more. Just a little -
"Fu-uck," you whine, head rolling back on your shoulders as the tight promise of release starts to linger just in reach, "that's it, pretty boy. Stay just like that. Just like - fuck, you're doing so good. So good for me. My sweet boy, my - God, Marcus -"
An eruption of stars overtake your vision as you fall from that deliciously sharp edge, your thighs briefly coming in to close around his head as you ride out your climax against his face. He merely groans loudly against you, greedily taking everything you give him and more.
You feel boneless when the bliss eventually fades into a pleasant glow of warmth along your limbs, and you carefully sit up and readjust yourself on the desk as Marcus struggles to catch his breath beneath you, your arousal and cum smeared so prettily over his jaw.
"Are you okay, hon?"
His dazed eyes roll to yours, and he gives a wide, lazy grin.
"Yeah, I'm -" he exhales deeply, stretching his neck from side to side before nodding, "I'm good. Are you okay?"
Chuckling quietly, you give a small nod and brush some of the sweat that built along the back of your neck away, taking your own deep, steadying breath. You reach for the box of tissues on the corner of his desk, and swipe some into your hold.
His eyes, full of adoration, follow your every move, and soften even further when you start to clean the mess gently from his skin. He catches your hand before you can move too far from him, and you let him coax you closer, until he's able to press a tender kiss to your lips.
"I love you."
"I love you," you grin, "sit tight, handsome. I'll get you a water -"
Your legs give in the second you stand, and if it weren't for Marcus hurrying to steady you, you would've met the floor in seconds. He's laughing as he helps you down onto the floor next to him, running a hand along your thighs to massage some feeling back into them.
"Maybe we'll give the water a pass for now," he grins.
"That might be a good idea."
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Could I request human female/volturi kings on how their first time would be please give romantic details I’m sure it would be so passionate 🥺
A/N: I don't do smut but I hope you enjoy this!
-S
+200is words.
First of all, I am 100 % sure that all of the kings have a massive thing for making you feel as pretty as you can possibly feel.
They love to see you in semi-sheer nightgowns and expensive and comfortable lingerie.
But most of all of them love to see you happy and confident with yourself.
I’m of the opinion that Aro loves to praise his lover, in and out of bed it doesn’t matter. He wants to make sure that you know how much he cares about you.
Caius lives to touch you. I mean, all of them like touching you but Caius brings it to another level. He likes to grab your thighs, chest, hair whatever he can get a hold of.
Marcus loves to kiss you. And this includes all the types of kisses. The soft lingering ones. The ones that are rough and take your breath away. The types of kisses where you lose yourself to the feeling.
They like to start off slowly. Good dinner (for you at least), light kisses and touches, loving words, praises, longing looks and so much more before you are even close to the bedroom.
#aro volturi#the volturi#volturi#volturi kings#marcus volturi#caius volturi#volturi x reader#the volturi kings#volturi coven#the volturi coven#aro x y/n#aro volturi x reader#aro x reader#aro twilight#marcus x y/n#marcus volturi x reader#marcus twilight#caius x y/n#caius volturi x reader#caius x reader#caius twilight#the twilight series#the twilight renaissance#the twilight saga
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Playdate - Chapter Eight
IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm posting both chapters 7 and 8 today so just make sure you didn't actually miss 7 or this one might not make much sense, lol. Also I'd recommend having chapter 7 fresh in your mind when you read this one. This chapter serves as an 'interlude' chapter that occurs before/during/after Chapter 7 but is told from Dave and Marcus' POV's (not Reader's). One final note, a page break/divider indicates a shift of POV to another character, but hopefully that comes across easily enough in the writing anyway.
Main Masterlist
Series Masterlist
AO3 link
pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York
Word Count: 5.1k
Notes: Who gave me the right to put all this ANGST in my PORN story? dw, I have a couple more chapters planned out, I'll fix this mess I've created eventually :P
Chapter Warnings (BIG TIME spoilers in the warnings... I'd recommend skipping them if you don't want to be spoiled. If you're at this point in this story, you're fine with whatever I have left to throw at you lol): 18+ MDNI. M/M (Yeah that's right. Reader who? Sorry babe, I'll make it up to you next time!). Oral sex. Hand jobs. Anal play. A shower stall is our 3rd main character in this chapter. Inexperienced!Marcus. Dom!Dave. Daddy Kink. Derogatory talk. Praise kink. Little sprinkling of Soft!Dave. Porn with too many feelings that these idiot men don't know what to do with (we'll work on them, ok?). Infidelity-ish (again, these three got some shit to work out).
MASSIVE thank you for @janaispunk for beta'ing and being my sounding board.
Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics
When restfulness fails to come for Dave he eventually decides to pull himself away from the two sleeping forms next to him in the bed and head off to the shower instead. He could use a thorough washing, and not to mention the relaxing spray and solace of the shower may just offer him a bit of a chance to clear his head, hopefully.
Letting out a heavy sigh once he reaches the bathroom near the front entryway of the suite he shrugs off the oversized fluffy hotel robe and hangs it on the back of the door before closing it shut, reaching inside the shower stall and turning the temperature up to near scalding. He hisses the moment he steps inside the large enclosure, immediately turning his back to the water and facing the door instead but within a few seconds the temperature starts to feel perfect and he rolls his shoulders and aching muscles under the steady beat of the massaging spray.
“Fuck” he groans, head tilting back to let the water wash over his face and through his hair. In hindsight he maybe should’ve had a cold shower because he’s been rocking a semi for the last… god knows… since not long after his two bedmates had fallen asleep. He resists the urge to wrap his fist around himself and take care of it solo, thinking he can will it away with sheer mental focus instead. As if he could focus on much of anything right now. His mind was scrambled, and that just wasn’t Dave. He had an innate ability to compartmentalize, always had. It’s what made him so good at his job and had gotten him through many obstacles in his life thus far. But then he met fucking Marcus Pike, which ultimately, also led him to you, and now here he was playing fucking house with what was meant to be a one or two time fun “hookup” and goddamit if he didn’t feel himself starting to fall. What’s worse is that he hadn’t just fallen for you, either. Annoyed with himself yet again for not being able to shut his brain off, Dave turns around to face the spray again and gets to the task of washing his hair instead, needing something else to focus on besides the insistent need that’s hanging between his legs.
The quiet ‘snick’ of the bathroom door latching shut catches Dave’s attention, even with his head under the hot spray of the water in the oversized walk-in shower, because of course it does. Dave is always super aware and hyper vigilant, even when in a relaxed environment. His eyes squeezed shut as he rinses the shampoo from his hair and back turned to the door he calls out, “it’ll be all yours in a minute, almost done here”
So when he hears the sound of the glass door sliding open and the cool air hitting his back, despite his offer to give up the shower momentarily, he chuckles. A low, raspy laugh from deep in his throat as he pushes his hair back on his head and finally turns around, his eyebrow raising in amusement as his gaze settles on his unexpected visitor standing just outside the shower door.
“Well, what have we here?”
Marcus doesn’t say a word. Too nervous he’ll psyche himself out if he attempts to speak. Instead he unwraps the towel from around his waist, leaving him fully naked and exposed, and tosses it to the ground behind him before stepping inside the enclosure and sliding the glass door shut behind him.
Dave waits, stock still, because he hadn’t been expecting this. Not that he should be too surprised, he supposed. It was probably bound to happen and truth be told he was far from mad about it. Over time he’d grown to care for Marcus a lot, and more than what he knew was realistic for a ‘friendship’. And with the fondness for Marcus growing so did the sexual tension, he supposed. It wasn’t immediate, as he had felt with you, but as he spent more and more time with both of you Marcus had unknowingly carved out a spot for himself under Dave’s skin, just as you had on that very first night he’d met you. It started out slowly, he would feel his own arousal spike watching Marcus get pleasure but he had chalked that up to being natural, not unlike getting off to watching porn. But then it started to change, and Dave began to wonder what it might be like for him to give Marcus that pleasure and earlier this evening he gave in and did exactly that. Holding his hands around Marcus as the younger man submitted to him and came with Dave’s mouth at his ear nearly had Dave spilling inside of you the moment Marcus let go. He loved hearing the sweet cries from Marcus’ perfect pouty lips as Dave held him tight to his naked chest. And the way you looked up at both of them, pure lust and adoration in your gaze he felt his chest constrict around his heart like it might just explode.
In that moment he wanted to just gather you both in his arms and tell you, beg you, to keep him.
And now, here Marcus stood just inches away from him, naked and vulnerable.
Dave was well and truly fucked.
Swallowing the thick lump in his throat from his nerves, Marcus carefully, slowly and wordlessly sinks to his knees in front of Dave and pauses. Peering up at him with those honeyed brown eyes, silently begging for whatever had come over him to be reciprocated. He’d woken up when he felt the weight under the mattress shift when Dave had gotten up and watched with more focus than what was probably considered appropriate at the back side of Dave’s naked form as he crossed the room and snagged a robe from the back of the door and threw it on. Marcus had to stifle a groan as he felt his cock instantly begin to swell at just the sight of the slightly older man before him. Once he exited the bedroom Marcus let out a sigh and dropped his head back to the pillow with a heavy thud, closing his eyes and focusing his breathing for a few seconds but still, his dick betrayed him. He rolled over to his side and watched your sleeping form, debating whether he should wake you to help him with his little situation or not but quickly dismissed the notion. He knew you must be exhausted, it wasn’t like you to be sleeping in the middle of the day so clearly you were worn out. Plus he’s pretty sure the actual reason for his current state of arousal just walked out the bedroom door anyway.
He lays in bed for as long as he can stand it, until he hears the shower come to life on the other side of the suite and his cock twitches again involuntarily, his mind conjuring up images of Dave naked and letting the hot spray of the water cascade all over his body and suddenly Marcus feels jealous over a fucking shower head of all things. Before long he finds himself getting up and out of bed, quickly tying a discarded towel around his waist before he leaves the bedroom and makes his way through the suite.
A grin spreads across Dave’s lips as the hot water continues to beat down his back and he reaches a hand forward, gripping the younger man’s jaw in his hand and angling him further upward as his thumb gently caresses back and forth at his cheek as he rasps out, “Well what are you waiting for, Champ? This cock isn’t going to suck itself”
After taking in a quick deep breath to steel his nerves, Marcus, ever obedient, presses forward. His eyes close as he takes Dave’s semi-hard length into his mouth, his lips wrapping around him as he finds his footing, as it were, never having actually done this before.
“Eyes on me Slugger” Dave tuts, hand going underneath Marcus’ chin and forcing his gaze upwards with the flick of a single knuckle. Marcus’ gaze is weak as he tries desperately to hold Dave’s but when he feels Dave begin to grow and swell against his tongue he gets a newfound confidence and can’t help the low moan that leaves his throat as he envelops him further into his mouth and finally begins to move his tongue and lips around him, licking and sucking and tasting every inch offered to him. He may not know exactly what he’s doing, but he does know what feels good to him and tries his best to mimic those same behaviors.
He pulls off for just a moment, collecting saliva in the back of his throat and messily spitting onto Dave’s length before he wraps his mouth around it again and begins to bob his head back and forth, letting his tongue drag along the underside as he swallows him down the best he can, easing off only slightly when the thick head of him nears too far to the back of his throat and causes him to momentarily gag before he resituates himself to a comfortable feel and can enthusiastically continue.
“Fuck, that’s it. Good boy,” Dave sighs, hand pushing through Marcus’ golden brown locks and a little whimper escapes Marcus at the subtle praise, eyelids fluttering shut for only a moment before he remembers Dave’s words from earlier and opens them again to hold Dave’s gaze. “You suck cock almost as good as your wife, you know that pretty boy?” Dave teases and despite himself, it only turns Marcus further on. He takes one hand and wraps it around the base of Dave’s cock to pump as much as his shaft that won’t fit in his mouth while the other hand goes to his own aching need as he begins stroking himself to the same pace that his head bobs.
“Fuck” Dave curses again, a little breathless this time as his head tilts back into the spray of water. He wraps his hand around the back of Marcus’ head and helps him by setting the pace that he wants, fast and rough and nearly hitting the back of Marcus’ throat each time his hips jut forward. Marcus does his best to take him but before long he’s coughing, sputtering, gagging and gasping for breath as he pulls off of him after just a few short seconds of Dave fucking his throat, a long strand of saliva still connecting him to the now rock hard cock in his face and Dave lets out a little chuckle at Marcus’ obvious inexperience.
“Well, maybe you could learn a thing or two” Dave laughs. “Up,” he commands suddenly, hand gripping under Marcus’ bicep and hauling him quickly to his feet. Marcus goes willingly, all too eager to comply as Dave turns him to face the wall, grabs both of his hands and forces them above his head and flat against the warm tiles. Dave quickly crowds his space, stepping up behind him, the hot, hard length of him pressed right up against Marcus’ lower back.
His breathing laboured, Marcus tenses momentarily but then relaxes as he feels a large wet hand slide down his side, across the smooth skin of his hip and lower still until it ghosts over the globes of his ass and then back up to hold firmly at his hip again as Dave leans forward, breath hot against Marcus’ ear.
“Colour?” He asks and Marcus takes a steadying breath.
“Green. Uh… green. I - I think” he stammers out nervously. Dave hums before his hand snakes forward to grasp around Marcus’ hard, leaking cock and gives it a light squeeze that has Marcus whimpering.
“I’d say you’re doing just fine” Dave taunts before he languidly strokes Marcus a few times, causing his knees to nearly buckle as a desperate whine escapes his lips.
“I’m uh.. I’ve never.. with…” Marcus trails off, his eyes squeezing shut when Dave gently ruts into his back, his hand still slowly stroking him. “H-Have you?”
“When you’re young and in your prime and stuck in the service for twelve plus months at a time, a warm mouth is a warm mouth” Dave shrugs nonchalantly. “But it’s not something I indulged in often, or ever pursued outside of that environment” he adds, still slowly working Marcus over with shallow pumps of his fist. “Truth be told I’ve never looked at or even thought twice about another man. That is, until you”. He finishes the last part quietly, like it's a secret he can’t voice out loud.
“S-same here” Marcus stutters, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on his breathing, hoping to stave off his orgasm for at least a little while longer. “Did you ever, ah fuck” Marcus groans, trailing off as his train of thought leaves him when Daves hand comes up to pay special attention to the head of his cock, his hand twisting just right over and over again at the sensitive tip.
“Did I ever what? Hmmm?” Dave taunts, hand stilling around Marcus as he lowers his hips slightly and presses further against him, his stiff length now pressing into the meat of Marcus’ asscheek. “Did I ever fuck a man’s tight little asshole?” He asks into the shell of Marcus’ ear and Marcus shudders before biting back a moan and nodding his head.
“No” Dave answers honestly. “Why, did you want to be the first?” He chuckles, rutting into him and Marcus lets out a stuttering gasp before shaking his head against the tiles.
“I don’t think… I’m not… No. I… I don’t know” Marcus answers helplessly, his shoulders tensing.
“Relax baby, relax” Dave soothes, pulling his hips back slightly but resting his forehead on Marcus’ shoulder. “You don’t have to be ready for that right now. And to be honest, if my cock is going to be in your ass then I want yours inside your wife so I can fuck you both at the same time” he chuckles darkly into the heated skin of Marcus’ back and a shiver passes through Marcus’ whole body at just the thought of that.
“Oh you like that don’t you” Dave laughs again. Feeling Marcus twitch in his hand gets Dave’s dominant confidence swelling in his chest again and he easily slips into the role he prefers to play, where he feels the most comfortable and less vulnerable.
“Wanna be the meat in our little fuck sandwich, sweet boy?” Dave taunts, his hand going back to slowly stroking Marcus again. “You gonna fuck your tight little ass against my fat cock while you’re buried inside of her?”
“Jesus, fuck” Marcus groans. He’d never once judged his wife for what she was into, but now he understood it first hand. The way Dave could have you falling apart just by the words that leave his mouth.
“Maybe a little friendly competition, see who can cum inside of who first” he laughs darkly and Marcus’ whole body shudders as a wrecked moan escapes him.
Dave hands picks up the pace a little as Marcus squeezes his eyes shut, face resting against his own forearm and teeth clenched as Dave draws him closer and closer to that edge he’s been teetering on since he sunk to his knees in front of the man in question just minutes ago.
He didn’t know what came over him, what possessed him to get out of bed and follow after Dave, but he couldn’t get what happened earlier out of his head. The way Dave had wrapped his hand around his throat, called him his good boy, and made him cum so hard his vision nearly blacked out. He needed more. Dave was like a drug, he understood it now. An addiction, a craving that could never be satisfied, always leaving you wanting more.
His breath catches in his throat when he feels Dave’s free hand that’s not currently wrapped around him back at his ass, a single finger sliding through the cleft of his wet cheeks until it stops to tease at his hole. The pad of his finger presses at the puckered flesh but doesn’t breach inside, just wanting to rile Marcus up and it is absolutely working as the younger man whimpers and squirms under Dave’s hands. Dave shifts slightly so that the water beats down more so on Marcus, ensuring he’s not dry as Dave continues to tease him.
“Colour” Dave demands again, finger pressing in again with just a fraction more pressure than the previous time.
“Green, fuck. Please” Marcus is trembling, his body leaning against the wall the only thing holding him upright and he feels the smirk reach across Dave’s face from where his mouth is still pressed to his ear.
“That’s my good boy” Dave chuckles. The sound of Dave spitting a giant glob of saliva between Marcus’ cheeks is downright sinful as it echoes off the four walls of the shower enclosure and Marcus has to bite into the meat of his own arm to keep from moaning too loudly when Dave finally pushes a single saliva slicked finger just inside as he continues to stroke Marcus’ length with delicate precision.
“Oh my god, oh fuck! I’m - ” Marcus cries out at the welcomed intrusion of Dave’s finger, barely inside but slowly moving back and forth creating just enough of a foreign pressure that it’s enough to push Marcus over that edge within seconds. He orgasms with a wrangled cry leaving his lips, spurts of his warm spend splattering onto the tiles in front of him and down Dave’s hand that still loosely grips him as he continues to pump him dry.
“That’s it” Dave’s voice soothes against his ear, still gently working him over with both hands as Marcus comes down from his high. “So good for your Daddy, hmmm?”
“Mmmhmmm, fuck” Marcus groans out once more, leaning heavily into the tiles now, shoulders and chest heaving with each laboured breath he takes. He lets out another whimper as Dave gently slips his finger out, sighs happily when he feels Dave’s lips press into his shoulder blade.
“Okay?” Dave breathes against Marcus' warm flesh, checking in with him and the younger man can do little but eagerly nod his head, still trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Dave’s hand still wrapped around Marcus’ length finally slows to a stop and he releases him fully, both arms coming up to wrap around Marcus’ middle and hold him tight against his chest for a long moment and Marcus sighs happily, sated, leaning into the warmth Dave offers. He does his best to ignore the little flutter he feels in his chest as Dave's lips continue to pepper little kisses across the back of his neck and shoulders, wills his own heart to stop hammering in his chest when Dave breathes in deep and then rests his check against Marcus' back, apparently content to just hold him until his own breathing evens out.
“What um… what about you?” Marcus asks meekly. He hadn’t exactly gotten to finish what he’d started earlier once the attention shifted to him and his own pleasure. He can still feel Dave pressed into his back, though with the delay for his own gratification Dave has softened somewhat again, his needs seemingly less urgent now.
“Let me finish getting cleaned up in here and then why don’t we meet back in bed, hmm?” He finishes his thought with a sharp little smack to Marcus’ ass and chuckles before he bites down gently onto his shoulder. “See if you can wake up that wife of yours while you’re at it”
“Yeah, o-okay” Marcus stammers, stealing himself for a moment before he heaves a deep sigh, lets his shoulders relax and finally reaches for the shower door and slides it open. Dave lets him go, watches with piqued interest as Marcus bends over to pick up his earlier discarded towel and secure it back around his waist again, and then, he’s gone. Door closing shut behind him again and leaving Dave to finish his shower in privacy.
Dave is doing his best to act nonchalant, normal, though nothing about what just took place was normal for either of them. He’d never held another man in an embrace like that before and found himself not even wanting to let go. It took everything in him not to spin Marcus around and hold him even closer. And it wasn’t just sexual, this feeling he suddenly had. Though that part was definitely good too, but now he felt himself feeling suddenly nervous about going back out there, like he was completely transparent and the two of you would see through him immediately. He dreads the day, and he has a feeling it’s coming soon, that the two of you extract yourselves from his life. He knows the texts and visits will become fewer and farther between until suddenly he stops hearing from you all together and he’ll go back to his life before the two of you were in it, wishing he’d never gone along with it in the first place because then he wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament he found himself in now.
He should put a stop to this himself before that happens, he thinks. Like a bandaid, just rip it off and the pain will dissipate before he even notices it’s there, right? He can fake a work emergency, or say somethings come up with his children and he needs to cut this weekend short. You’ll both understand, of course you will. Maybe even be secretly relieved that you can spend the rest of your time here together with just the two of you.
He’s doing everyone a favour, he thinks.
Mind made up, he takes a little extra time than necessary in the shower, turning the temperature way down to hopefully rid him of what’s left of his hard-on and finishes cleaning himself off, being sure to scrub every inch of his body to wash away any lingering traces of this weekend from his skin, hopefully soon enough from his memory. He takes the removable shower hose off the fixture as well and sprays down the tiles where Marcus’ cum still lingers, watching it wash down the drain past his feet and then hangs the shower head back up and finally turns the taps off and steps out.
Speech fully prepared in his head, what he didn’t expect was to walk back into the bedroom to see you with a very worried expression on your face and for a moment, he feels his heart literally fall into his stomach. Did Marcus just confess what happened and you’re so enraged you’re about to throw him out on his ass? Throw your husband out too? Likely not the latter, he thinks. If anything it’s probably further cementing the fact that the two of you need Dave out of your lives, he’s only going to cause problems in what is a beautiful, perfect marriage.
“You have to go?!” He hears you say and oh. So Marcus is leaving? He asks what’s going on and then just hangs back after Marcus responds to him but then focuses his attention back to you, Dave idly listening to the conversation in the background as your husband continues to apologize to you about an apparent “work emergency” that’s come up.
Dave was already set in his decision to leave, but with Marcus going he knows he really, really needs to leave. Being alone with you might just kill him, and he doesn’t deserve a death that blissful, he reasons with himself.
Not long after saying an endearing goodbye to you, Marcus brushes past Dave with a vague ‘see ya later’ and just like that, he’s gone and Dave is left alone with the person currently possessing the other half of his traitorous heart. The heart that wasn’t supposed to fall for either of these two people who already belonged to each other, let alone apparently falling for both of them.
Marcus is in the cab, half way back to his own house where he most certainly does not have any type of work emergency waiting for him, when he starts an inner battle with himself about just what in the fuck he is doing. Should he have left? Should he turn around right now and go back and stop being a fucking coward? What the hell was he supposed to do?
He felt so fucking guilty the moment his orgasm ripped through him like a freight train with Dave’s hands on him and you nowhere in sight that he just couldn’t get out of that hotel room fast enough. He had cheated on you, in his mind. What’s worse is that it wasn’t even all sexual, though that is how it started and how he pursued it but his feelings for Dave were beginning to get overwhelming and he thought maybe if he just ‘got it out of his system’ he could forget about it and move on, but then Dave had to go and fucking hold him afterwards and asked him back to bed and his throat just plummeted into his stomach. How could he just walk out of that bathroom and pretend that never happened? Is that what Dave wanted? Or did Dave want you to know exactly what happened? How would you react? Marcus didn’t even have his own feelings about the whole thing sorted out, he couldn’t expect you to understand. He crossed a line, that much he knew.
Ultimately he decided to let the cab driver continue to their destination. He was already well on his way home anyway, might as well keep going. He’d fix himself some dinner, maybe a drink and just have some time alone to sort out his thoughts before he joins you back at the hotel. He briefly wonders if Dave will still be there when he gets back. If he is, maybe it would be a good time for the three of you to have a conversation, one that’s surely long overdue. Marcus hopes he doesn’t have to speak first. What if he voices what he thinks he’s truly feeling and you all look at him like he’s grown a second head?
He’s equally worried at both ends. He’s worried that Dave, despite the tender moments he is occasionally capable of showing, might laugh the whole thing off. He signed up to be a fun ‘playmate’ for a couple of weekends here and there, not a more permanent fixture in an already existing and functioning marriage. And you… what would you even think? Sure Marcus knows you’ve warmed to Dave over the months during your encounters but you’d never discussed with Marcus that you’d felt anything for the man in question outside of sexual desire. Not to mention what would you think of him if he asked you to have another man be an active participant in your relationship? The last thing he wants is you feeling like you’re not enough for him or that something is missing from your marriage.
It would kill him if this drove any kind of rift between the two of you. No, he needs to shut up and keep whatever is in his head and his heart to himself and hope things sort themselves out. He’ll start to distance himself (and hopefully you both) from Dave and you can go back to your lives. He cares about Dave, far more than what he knows is appropriate, but he can’t lose you. He won’t.
Marcus finishes his dinner, accompanied by a rich glass of wine, and waits a while, letting his food settle and his mind attempt to find peace within the waging war that are his thoughts still battling on inside his head. A few hours since he’d left the hotel pass before he finally heads back outside to his car and types the address of the hotel into his GPS.
Dave York is a bad man. He knows it the moment he reaches the penthouse floor again, not even thirty minutes since he left it, and lifts his fist to knock at the hotel room door. He'd had every intention of getting into his car and leaving this place. Just one drink first, he'd reasoned with himself, then he'd leave.
He knew shouldn’t be here at your door now. Not without Marcus. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t have been in the shower with Marcus without you, either. Marcus knows it, clearly. It’s the only explanation for why he high-tailed it out of there with some half-assed lie of an excuse of having a work emergency on a Saturday night. Dave saw right through it of course but didn’t voice his concern, he certainly wouldn’t do that in front of you. He wouldn’t wedge himself further into the complications of your marriage than he already was.
He’s really fucked this up. But he knows, even before you pull open that door, that tonight is his last chance. The last time he’ll allow himself to see you before he forces himself to go back to his old life so you can have yours back with your husband. And if he was a better man, he would’ve just left earlier when he said he was going to and not come to see you one last time, knowing full well what he was doing and feeling and how it might affect you. How it might affect Marcus, and moreover how it might affect your relationship with Marcus.
But Dave York was not a better man. Not a good man.
Dave York was a bad, bad man.
"Hi" you breathe out the moment the door swings open and lands on him leaning against the frame on the other side.
"Hi"
Marcus lets himself into the hotel suite, quietly and carefully making his way through the rooms that are bathed in darkness, only slivers of moonlight peaking through where the curtains aren’t fully shut. Pushing open the double doors to the bedroom he frowns but is otherwise not surprised to find you sleeping alone in the bed that now seems comically oversized for just your body alone, especially given how crowded it was only hours earlier.
He glances around the room, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight, making sure not to shine it on you so as to not wake you up. He tilts it around the room, looking everywhere but there's no sign of Dave. His belongings seem to be gone, his duffel bag no longer occupying the corner of the bedroom where it was before. Marcus had walked through the living room to get to the bedroom so he knows he wasn’t asleep on the couch either.
Dave was gone.
Clicking off the flashlight and before he can talk himself out of doing so, Marcus taps on the Messages icon on his screen, wanting to send a quick text to your group chat, just to ensure wherever Dave was, everything was OK.
Once again Marcus gets that all too familiar feeling of his throat falling into the pit of his stomach when he reads the tiny grayed out letters that greet him at the bottom of your conversation.
Dave York has left the group.
Dun Dun Dunnnnnn! I am so sorry, but believe it or not this was my plan for this series all along from the moment you guys lovingly bullied me into turning my one-shot into a series, lol. Fear not though, we haven't seen the last of our dear Dave. He's just a bit of an idiot, and is going to continue to be one for a little while, but have faith in me.
Next Chapter
I really appreciate you taking the time to read this chapter! If you liked it please leave me a little note or a reblog, it means the world to me!
Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl @harrington-thedad @missyorkswhore @disassociation-daydreams
#pedro pascal cinematic universe#dave york#marcus pike#pedro pascal character fanfiction#dave york fanfiction#dave york smut#marcus pike fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#marcus pike x dave york#marcus pike smut#ppcu#ppcu fanfiction
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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!
#rumor has it fic#senorabond writes#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfic#javi x reader x pike#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier peña#narcos fic#narcos#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus pike#the mentalist fic#the mentalist
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Hellooo,
How would the Kings and guards (esp Demetri and Alec) react to a mate who is OBSESSED with academic validation and is working themselves to death studying at a dark academia aesthetic university like Oxford/Cambridge?
𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎
Aro loves to spoil you, gifting you aesthetically pleasing hardbook versions of all the classes books. He gifts you bows, clothes, shoes, bags, books and happily pays for any art or education you may want. He wants the best for you and admired the aesthetic and your persuit of knowledge.
Marcus teaches you everything he knows, eager to spend as much time with you as possible. He gives you constant praise and makes sure you don't overwork yourself. He isn't above manhandling you into taking care of yourself if need be.
Caius paints the hard covers of books into beautiful individual art pieces as gifts for you, and many many painting of you can be found. A few of the rooms in his private quarters have been turned into a private library/study for you, a space for you to do all your work.
Alec attends classes with you and even takes notes for you. He assists with whatever reaserch you need to do and plans educational trips out to museums. The most recent one he's planned is to take you to the big telescope in hawaii - but that's a surprise for next month.
Jane gives you access to her diaries. Not many within the volturi know, but she has journaled her experiences and given a first hand account of history since she turned 50. It became a hobby, one that she now shares with you, her mate, and she's more than happy to spend time with you going through them together.
Demetri teaches you Latin, opening your eyes to so much more books, texts, dialogues and history. You stay awake at night listening to him tell you about history, most especially ancient Rome, and beg for him to keep going even when he insists you should sleep.
Felix collects gifts for you whenever he's away on missions. Most recently, he's filled shelves upon shelves of records of classical music in your shared room, along with a vintage record player he gifted you for your anniversary.
#twilight#twilight renascence#x reader#volturi#headcannons#hc#twilight saga#volturi guard#volturi guard x reader#volturi kings x reader#volturi kings#aro x reader#aro volturi x reader#aro volturi#marcus x reader#marcus volturi x reader#marcus volturi#caius x reader#caius volturi x reader#caius volturi#alec volturi x reader#alec volturi#jane volturi x reader#jane volturi#felix volturi#felix volturi x reader#demetri volturi#demetri volturi x reader#volturissideslut#volturisideslut
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Pedro’s Characters: The Dick-tionary: Part Two
(PS. I’m currently on my ovulation week so this is gonna be mental)
Part One ;)
Frankie (Catfish) Morales:
Okay so I just finished watching Triple Frontier and oml I love this man. One thing I wanna say is, he definitely fucks you in whatever flying vehicle he owns, not during flights of course <3 safety first and I have such a bad fear of flying. Anyways, Frankie’s about 7 inches, and he has a pretty pink mushroom tip, he’s pretty thick too tbh, and he’s a vein up the side that you can feel when he’s inside you. PRAISE!!! He’s a praiser and not a degrader. Breeding kink is a must!!! Maybe it’s because he’s a family man but I feel like he has a domestic kink, like, he lovesssss talking about you being his ‘pretty little wife/husband’. Fuck, he lovessss filling you up and talking bout how he wants to get you pregnant, even if you can’t get pregnant :0, he was quite delicate with this factor at first in case it made you uncomfortable but he 100% wouldn’t say anything about that if it made you uncomfy. He just needs you to be happy. “My sweet girl/boy, spread your legs for me will ya?” “Yeah you like that, yeah you do… good girl/boy.” “Pretty little baby, taking me so so well, aw, so cute” “Take my cock in your mouth, oh yeah, just like that, my sweet, sweet baby.” He shaves well enough I think, likes to leave a happy trail to tease you with.
Agent Whiskey
Save a horse, ride a cowboy. Literally. Ride him and he’ll love you forever. Pedro’s cowboy characters hold a warm place in my heart because I find Southern accents sooooo sexy, ugh yes, talk about your farm daddy.
Um…. Anyways! Jack is so cunty I love him. Okay, he’s a big boy, about 8 inches, up there with Javier and Joel. He’s thick, like oof… Nice big tip too. Depending on the day, he switches between soft and hard dom. His fav position is cowgirl obviously, despite popular speculation, he’s not really a big fan of reverse cowgirl, but he LOVES doggystyle, he’s an ass man so spanking is a yes. He’s not a daddy man. OH MY GOD WHEN YOU RIDE HIM PLEASE WEAR HIS HAT PLEASE HE’LL CUM SO SO HARD!! SIT 👏 ON 👏 HIS 👏 FACE 👏 If he’s feeling soft and wants to be all chivalrous and his Southern self, he’ll fuck you in missionary, peppering kisses all over your face and neck. “My sweet girl/boy… takin’ my cock so well.” “Oh darlin’, ya look so pretty f’me.” “Fuck, so good, baby, such a good lil hole.” Big snail trail enthusiast!!!
Marcus Pike
I have not watched the mentalist so I apologise for any inaccuracies :( but good lord how gorgeous is this man…
Sorry guys I just can’t get over how pretty he is, but I’m actually crying because he’s so beautiful. Anyway, he’s about 7.5 inches and loooovvvvessss to be sucked off. You just look so so pretty with his cock in your mouth, and suck on his tip, his hips buckle a little and he whimpers, his hands going straight into your hair. He’s such a sweet lover, when he’s inside you, he’s so soft and gentle, you’d have to physically beg him to be rough. A BIG KISSER!!! Loves kissing you, just make sure you’ve kissed him at least 20 times and he’ll be content. He’s such a sweetie, please just be nice to him. “I love you so so much.” “Please oh baby, I love you, love this hole, so fucking good for me, good girl/boy.” “I’m gonna cum, oh please, where do you want me to cum, please tell me where to cum baby…” He likes to keep its shaved but he’s not completely bald.
Lucien Flores
Now, I have been looking for the clip of him making out and I can’t find it anywhere 😭😭 if someone could find it for me pleaseeeee send it I will love and cherish you for eternity. I also couldn’t find a gif of him so bear with me 😭.
Oh guys… MIRRORS!!! From looks and expectations and fanfics I’ve read, mirrors are a big thing for him. He’s about 8 inches. Loves doggy, he’s also an ass man. Choking you is a MUST, oh god he loves making you take him in a mirror, in doggy, with his big hand wrapped around your pretty neck, seeing you in the mirror taking him sooo well. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Same thing with the bathroom. He has you with one leg on the counter, the other dangling as he pounds into you, just absolutely destroying you. Shower sex too! He has you, either against the wall or legs wrapped around his waist. In fact just let him fuck you on every single surface of the house. Bed, bathroom, floor, sofa, dining table, kitchen counter, anything!! Loves eating you out from behind. He shaves and isn’t bald, yknow standard procedure 🤷🏻♀️
Special Guest!! My fav TV cameo 🫶
Reggie Luckman:
My MAN!! 🥺 he whimpers, have you seen him to that pretty when you cry edit, UGH STRIKES MY HEART EVERY TIME! I watch that edit about 3 times a day. I am very well aware that he’s just found out he’s killed his friend in this gif but he’s just so beautiful…
He’s 7 inches, and has such a cute face when he’s inside you, eyes squeezed shut and biting his lip as he conceals his whimpers. You keep telling him that he’s fine to moan but he just gets so embarrassed. Such a praiser, calls you a good girl/boy soooo much. His hips stutter when he’s close, and he bites down on your shoulder, accidentally leaves hickeys on your neck and collarbones. He loves going fast. When you ride him, he looks up at with those sweet eyes, and it makes your heart melt, hands on your hips, guiding you sweetly. Tug on his hair in orallllll!!! “Please, please, you feel so good, I love you.” “Mmm, please, I’m gonna cum, can I cum in you?” “I can? Thank you, thank you, fuck!” Praise him back, tell him how he’s doing, tell him that he’s good. Pleaseeeee I need him soooo baddddd!!!!!!
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#frankie morales#agent whiskey#marcus pike#lucien flores#reggie luckman#pedro pascal headcanon#slvtforoldermen
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BEGGING ON MY KNEES richie x reader where no one knows they are together but then they kiss or touch each other in front of the rest out of habit and everyone is like ??? GRACIAS HERMANA
OOOooooOOoooh ALSO HERMANA?? AANOTHER LATINA WHO LOVES RICHIE?? YESSSS
——
“Oh my God, dude,” you said with a groan, mouth still a little full of chocolate cake. “I think this might be your best one yet.”
“You really think so?” Marcus asked with a big smile.
“Fuck yeah. This is amazing!”
Beside you, Sweeps nodded in agreement, spooning more into his mouth. Richie stepped up on your other side, looking down at the confection in front of you.
“You’ve gotta try this,” you said, offering him a forkful.
He leaned down so you could feed it to him, and he immediately groaned as well.
“Fuck me, that is good!” He said. “Nice job, dude.”
“Thank you, Chef,” Marcus said, a little coy at all the praise.
“Oh, you have some chocolate right there,” Richie added, reaching forward and wiping the corner of your lips with an abundant familiarity.
“Thanks, babe,” you said automatically, getting another bite for yourself.
Sweeps and Marcus shared a look, eyebrows raised.
“Wait a second…” Marcus started, vaguely pointing between the two of you. “You’re not, um… are you…?”
Before either of you could say anything, Sweeps chimed in. “I’ve definitely seen you two leaving together.”
“Yeah, we live close to each other,” you shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “It’s just convenient to carpool, you know.”
“You’re totally fucking blushing right now!” Marcus said, pointing at Richie.
“Shut up, no I’m not,” he scoffed, even if he definitely was.
You couldn’t help but laugh, partly out of nervousness at being put on the spot.
“No, no you totally are,” you said, placing a hand on his arm.
“Well, anyway, whatever it is we got goin’ on, it’s none of your god damn business, alright?” He said, pointing at both Marcus and Sweeps menacingly. “I hate gossip, so I don’t wanna hear a peep about this to anyone else. And get back to work!”
The two of them tried to contain their amused grins, nodding in agreement only to appease him. Richie stormed off, still grumbling to himself.
The three of you then shook with silent laughter, not wanting him to hear. Sweeps elbowed your side playfully, and you rolled your eyes.
“Save me some cake then, will you?” You said, winking conspiratorially at Marcus.
He nodded and made the ‘my lips are sealed’ motion.
——
#richie jerimovich fanfiction#richie jerimovich x reader#richie jerimovich x fem!reader#richie jerimovich blurb#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader
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I know your headcanons are closed but I can’t stop thinking about Marcus Pike bing obsessed with his wife kids while she is nursing and he every evening very hungrily latch to her tits and drink her milk and cum without touching just from the drinking his wife’s milk.
Thank you for listening to my TEDtalk
Marcus Pike x f!reader
A/N: I love this anon, it's so 🔥
• so, it's obvious our sweet handsome Marcus Pike has a breeding kink
• one of the happiest moments of his life was when you two were dating and you both decided to stop using condoms because you two trusted each other and were clean
• so he could fill you up with his cum every night and that man went feral for it
• then you two got married and Marcus thought he was the happiest man in the world
• what he didn't know, was that he could be even happier and that happened when you announced you were pregnant
• and he was the best husband and baby daddy in the world: he did anything and everything for you, he treated you with so much love, spoiled you, woke up in the middle of the night to get you whatever food you were craving
• he would also go to all your doctor's appointments unless he really couldn't leave work and he would feel so guilty about it, but he would find a way to make it up to you for that, taking you out to eat, or buying you something nice
• and the body changes you went through, he really appreciated them, always praising and reminding you how gorgeous you were for carrying his child
• he loved your breasts, they were so full and big and so sensitive he loved playing with your nipples
• and he would be so fascinated by your milk; at first he would be too shy about it, he would be alone in his office and instead of focusing on his case report, he would close his eyes and fantasize about wrapping his lips around your nipples and suckle your warm milk
• he wondered what it would taste like, if you'd like the feeling, if he would like the feeling, if he would be embarrassed or if you would think he was weird so he didn't tell you anything about it
• but his cock was rock hard just to imagine himself drinking from you
• so when you two were having sex, he played with your breasts like he often did, you were riding Marcus and some milk began dripping down your nipple
• you were embarrassed at first, but he told you not to worry about it and wiped it with his tongue
• and it was as if something had changed inside of him; he just loved that situation, that connection was so strong and intense he couldn't help but want it again and again
• while still inside of you, he came so hard at the same time his lips were around your nipples
• you also noticed how much he enjoyed it, it had been so intense to him, you couldn't simply pretend you hadn't seen it
• so later, when you two were in bed, you asked him about it, showing your husband Marcus you were alright with it and above all you respected and loved him just the same
• and to make things better, you offered him to try it again whenever he wanted to
• so the next day at work, Marcus was also having a hard time concentrating because he spent the whole day thinking about it
• so just when he got home, he was so impatient he didn't even change clothes
• he sat you on the couch and took you to his lap, kissing you deeply and then going down your neck, your shoulders and your cleavage
• and then he revealed your beautiful gorgeous breasts and massaged them gently his tongue toying with your nipples as your milk came out right into his mouth
• Marcus closed his eyes and let out some muffled moans while you played with his hair
• he was so turned on he ended up coming untouched, panting and looking at you as he had drunk a lot from your milk
• once more he felt a little embarrassed but you assured him it was alright and above all he'd helped you because now your tits weren't so heavy anymore
• you pecked his lips and told him he could have your milk any time he wanted
• and that was why Marcus knew he was the luckiest husband in the world: he had you as his wife 💘
____
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal headcanon#pedro pascal headcanons#marcus pike#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike x you#marcus pike x y/n#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus pike fanfic#marcus pike headcanon#marcus pike headcanons
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