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something-tofightfor · 10 months

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Smutsgiving Feast 2023: White Wine / Marcus Pike

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female reader

Word Count: 1,293

Rating: M.

Author's Note: This - like all of these - will be smutty, but none are going to be outright graphic. Barely edited in the name of getting these scheduled throughout the day - I'll fix errors before adding these to the masterlist for the event.

Thank you for reading... and enjoy your first Thanksgiving treat.

Summary: Marcus makes an awful day much better.

Traffic was a nightmare.

You’d left work with plenty of time to spare - or so you’d thought - before you had to be ready to head to Marcus’ team Friendsgiving. But thirty five minutes after you should have been home, you were at a standstill, and nearly twenty minutes away from home.

Groaning, you gripped the steering wheel and lowered your head to rest it against your knuckles, trying to steady yourself. It’s fine. As long as I get home before 6, we’ll make it. I just won’t be able to spend as much time getting ready.

At the sound of a hoking horn, you raised your head, narrowing your eyes at the cars surrounding you. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere. Honking won’t help.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed again. “Or will it?”

The sea of brake lights ahead of you had no answers.

—

Forty five minutes later, you parked your car, giving yourself exactly five seconds to steady your breathing before heading for your front door. You didn’t even bother bringing your work stuff inside - not only were you behind, you didn’t want to think about the office until the following week, when you had to be back.

The house was quiet as you stepped into the entryway, the only light coming from the living room and spilling softly into the otherwise dark hallway. “Marcus? I’m home. I’m sorry I’m late, I just need to change, and…. Shit.” Swearing when you dropped your keys onto the small table next to the door, you stared dumbly at the empty wine bag that you planned on taking with you to dinner. Except there’s supposed to be a bottle of wine in there. And I was supposed to pick it up on my way home. “Fuck.”

Gripping the edge of the table, you lowered your head, fighting back frustrated tears. You’d assured Marcus that you’d stop and pick up the bottle on your way home, waving off his concern that the Tuesday before Thanksgiving would be busy. Everyone travels on Wednesday, you’d assured him. It won’t be a problem.

“I was wrong.” Scoffing, you scrubbed a hand over your face. “And -”

“Hey, you.” Marcus’ quiet voice interrupted your pity party, and when you looked up, you saw him leaning against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest - and the soft gray sweater he’d chosen. “You made it.”

“I forgot the wine, Marcus. Traffic was really bad, and I didn’t even think to stop, and now we don’t have time. All we have in the kitchen are those cheap bottles, and -”

“Slow down.” He moved closer, holding a hand out to you. “It’s alright.” Your fingertips met his, the heat of Marcus’ touch immediately calming you, even before he’d tugged you closer and wrapped his other arm around you in a hug. “Come with me.”

“We don’t have time, I need to change, and -”

“We do. Annette called me a little while ago and asked us to come a little later. Scott’s stuck in traffic, too… and he’s got half the food in his car.” You let out a small sigh of relief at his words, allowing Marcus to lead you into the living room and to the couch. “You need to relax for a few minutes before you do anything.”

He pulled you down next to him on the comfortable cushions, one of his arms around your shoulders. You let yourself melt into his side, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Wait. “Marcus, if we have extra time, we can stop on the way and get a bottle of -”

“Not necessary.” Turning his head, he kissed your temple. “When I figured you were stuck in traffic, I went out and grabbed what we needed.”

“What?” Shifting so that you could look at him, you blinked in confusion. “You did?” Marcus nodded, his smile growing. “Why isn’t it in the bag? I -”

“It’s in the fridge.” He ran his knuckles along your shoulder, shrugging. “It was warm.” It was a simple thing, but you still felt a surge of affection for him, more of the tension and frustration dissipating as you took a steadying breath. “I told you it was alright.”

You’d been with him for less than a year, so there was still plenty that you had to learn about him, but the one thing you were certain of when it came to Marcus Pike was that he was thoughtful - and that was putting it mildly. “Thank you.” Closing your eyes, you let out a long exhale. “God, Marcus traffic today was awful. It was like every single person in the DC Metro area was trying to go to the exact same place, and I got stuck behind all of them.”

“Well you’re home now.” He narrowed his eyes playfully, shrugging. “And I’ll drive tonight. No problem.”

Neither of you said anything after that. Instead, you stared at him, your gaze lingering on Marcus’ face, as it often did. “What would I do without you, Agent Pike?”

“Hopefully you won’t ever have to find out.” He said it simply, the man’s expression and tone unchanging. “Now c’mere and let me kiss you.” You wasted no time complying, leaning closer and tilting your head, eyes halfway shut even before his mouth met yours.

The way Marcus kissed was unlike any other man you’d ever been with. From the moment you’d met him, his focus on you had been almost tangible, and that feeling had only grown over the months you’d known him. Especially on days like today. Sighing, you parted your lips and felt him do the same, one of his large palms settling against the base of your skull while he held you in place, the man’s tongue probing gently into your mouth.

You were disappointed when you pulled back to breathe, your eyes still closed even as you spoke. “Marcus, wait. We don’t have time, and -”

“We’ve got enough.” He hummed, his other hand landing on your thigh and squeezing. “You feeling any better?” You were, and you told him as much, nodding while you backed away and met his eyes again. “Good. We’re off for the next five days, and I don’t want to start out on a shitty note.”

That made you laugh, Marcus’ fingers tightening at the sound. “We’ll see how shitty it gets when we get back in the car, hmm?” He rolled his eyes but then got serious, the look in them changing and making you suck in a breath. I know that look. I -

“Maybe we both need to relax before we head out.” His thumb moved in a slow arc along the inside of your thigh, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Got any ideas how we can make that happen?” If he’s doing this then we really do have time.

“Plenty.” You moved swiftly, repositioning yourself so that you were straddling his lap, Marcus leaning all the way back against the couch cushions and staring at you. “And we can stay right here for most of ‘em.” His hands moved to your waist and then lower, following your curves. “How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect.” He smiled, the expression deepening the dimple on his cheek - which you reached up to stroke with one thumb. It does. Marcus shifted beneath you, his hips lifting just enough to make contact with your core. Oh, that felt … he’s already… You ground down on him without even thinking about it, Marcus’ eyes closing and his grip tightening, urging you even closer. “See?”

You nodded and then moved to kiss him again, your bodies falling into a familiar rhythm as your hips rolled forward and his thrust upward, instinct taking over.

—

#marcus pike #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #turkey day 2023 #writing #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #no mention of teresa here #marcus pike masterlist #thanksgiving feast #white wine

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something-tofightfor · 10 months

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Smutsgiving 2023: Red Wine / Oberyn Martell

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,789

Rating: NSFW. (of course.)

Author's Note: This was the first idea I had for this event, and Oberyn paired with red wine is a match made in heaven.

Summary: Martell events are exhausting and frustrating, but Oberyn knows just how to make everything better.

Formal events were always the worst, because no matter how much you wanted to be near him, it was next to impossible.

That night was no different, and you watched Oberyn from across the room as he interacted with his guests, a gorgeous blonde on one arm and a dark haired man on the other. It’s not fair, you thought as you sipped from your water glass, the furrow in your brows deep, thanks to your frown. We both have so much responsibility, and can’t just … enjoy these things.

It wasn’t that you were unhappy - the truth was completely opposite. Martell functions meant different things to different people, and for you and Oberyn, they meant working different angles with guests.

He was the charmer, the one that sidled up to everyone and got them comfortable, ensuring that they were enjoying themselves to the point that they’d send their counterparts to you with further instructions.

And you? You were the one that kept things running smoothly, acting as the middleman between everyone of importance on both sides. You ensured that things happened as they needed to, that the right people were in contact with each other, all of the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed.

It was exhausting, but it was worth it, and when you caught Oberyn’s eye from across the room, the intensity in his gaze floored you. Mouthing a single word - hi - you nodded as he cocked his head to the side and smirked, one eye closing briefly in a wink.

It wasn’t the interaction you wanted with him, but it was enough. When he looked away to continue his conversation, you took a deep breath and returned to the one you were having, the unease coiled at the center of your chest abating slightly. Two more hours. Two more hours and then we’re done with this for a while.

—

You made it back to your room first, barely waiting for the door to close behind you before you were reaching for the button at the back of your neck.

You unfastened it, sighing as the soft material slid down your body and pooled at your feet. It only took a few more seconds for you to pull your robe on, tying it loosely around your waist before you headed to the couch and lowered yourself onto it.

You were exhausted, and even though the party had been a success, you were glad it was over. And I’ll be even more glad when we’re on that plane tomorrow and going home, because -

“You undressed without me.” His voice startled you, though his tone was low and soothing. “You should have waited.”

“I needed to get out of those clothes, Oberyn.” Groaning, you opened your eyes, focusing on where he stood. “The same way I’m sure you need to get out of yours.” You understood where he was coming from, though, because you loved watching him get dressed and undressed. I always have. “What took you so long to get up here?”

“I stopped along the way.” Oberyn turned slowly, reaching behind him and then facing you again, two glasses in one hand and the fingers of the other wrapped around the neck of an already open wine bottle. “To get this.”

“What’s the occasion?” You knew that he didn’t need one, but if he’d taken the time to stop before getting back to you, there had to be a reason. “Didn’t you drink earlier?”

“No.” He moved closer, head shaking back and forth. “You weren’t drinking and so I didn’t, either.” Oberyn sat next to you, setting the glasses down on the table and then pouring wine into them, the red liquid bright. “But that changes now.” He handed you a glass and you took it from him, letting your fingers graze his as you curled them around the stem. “To us.”

“To us.” Clinking the rim of your glass against his, you raised it to your mouth to take a sip, closing your eyes and savoring the taste. “By the way, who do you think you are winking at me like that when I’m in the middle of a conversation about -”

“You’re lucky all I did was wink at you.” He murmured the words, tongue dragging over his lower lip moments later. “I wanted to come over and drag you out of that room.” Oberyn took another drink, his eyes dropping to your mouth and lingering there. “I should have.”

“Doran would have killed you.” You took another drink, too, wrinkling your nose. “And me. And you know it.”

“I am not afraid of my brother.” He moved closer, Oberyn’s hand making its way beneath your robe so that he could settle it on your thigh. “And you shouldn’t be, either.” He drained his glass and then set it down, turning his full attention onto you. “Finish that. I want to kiss you.”

Only Oberyn Martell would have told you to guzzle down a glass of wine as expensive as the one you held. But that was another thing you’d grown accustomed to since you’d met the man - and you didn’t want to keep him waiting.

Raising the glass to your lips, you opened your mouth to swallow the last of the drink just as he slid his hand higher, the heat of his palm sending a jolt through you and causing your hand to shake and wine to spill over the edge. “Oberyn!” Laughing, you looked down and watched as the dark red spread over the light blue of your robe … and the exposed skin of your upper chest. “Two seconds. You could have waited two more -”

“No. I couldn’t.” He moved before you could respond, deftly tugging on the sash of your robe so that it fell open. “I have waited all night.” You gasped when he leaned even closer, the tip of his tongue dragging over your wine-splashed skin before he pressed his lips to it. Seven hells, he’s the worst. “Haven’t you?”

“Yes.” You nearly moaned the word out as he continued to mouth at your skin, Oberyn’s position next to you changing so that he was leaning over you, the hand on your thigh anchoring you to your spot on the couch and his other hand sliding between the open robe and your side, the heel of his hand rubbing the side swell of one breast. “Fuck that feels good.”

He hummed, the sound vibrating against your skin, and when Oberyn straightened up without taking his hands off of you, there was a mischievous look in his eyes. “I know.” Reaching over, you set the glass down on the side table and then lifted your hand and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

“I thought you wanted to kiss me, Prince Oberyn.” He groaned at the address but that was as far as he got before his mouth met yours, the slight tartness of the liquid lingering on his lips and tongue.

He kissed you hard, the man’s eagerness apparent when it deepened. But it wasn’t until he bit down on your lower lip, the edges of his teeth catching on it and tugging as he backed away that you moaned, the nails on the hand not in his hair digging into his arm through his shirtsleeve.

He was able to pull sounds from you that you didn’t even know you were capable of making, and despite the fact that he was barely touching you, that night was no different. And he knows it. “I hope you don’t mind,” he started, clearing his throat and reaching for the bottle on the table. “I’m going to make a mess of you.”

His words made you shiver, a motion that you were certain he saw, but you couldn’t reply, your entire focus on him and the way his lips looked wrapped around the neck of the bottle as he drank directly from it. The muscles in his throat worked with each swallow, and after only a few seconds, you reached for the bottle, pulling it from his hand and lifting it to your lips, head tilted back.

You drank your fill, the wine going down smoothly while Oberyn just watched, and when you finished you smiled at him, lowering the bottle briefly. “Is that a promise?” The hand on your leg slid up higher, Oberyn urging you to part your legs for him.

“Yes.” He glanced down, nodding twice at the way your robe exposed your body to his greedy eyes. “It is.” Taking another swig of wine, you hummed and then said his name, enjoying the way he prolonged bringing his gaze back up to meet yours. It makes everything worth it.

“Then let me help you out, Oberyn.” Tipping the bottle, you inhaled sharply when some of the remaining wine made contact with your skin, the liquid dripping down from your collarbone. “If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you won’t let good wine go to waste.”

He moved before he spoke, changing positions so that he could ease you onto your back.

And then Oberyn was above you again, one knee between your leg and the back of the couch, the other foot planted firmly on the floor. He used both hands to push your robe completely out of the way and then reached for the bottle, taking it from where it was held loosely between your fingers. “Never.” Instead of putting it on the table, though, he tipped it over and poured a small amount of wine onto your chest, his eyes following the liquid as it streaked across your skin.

As it dripped over your arm and down your side, he lowered his head and kissed the hollow at the base of your throat before licking there, the swipe of his tongue hot. You whimpered, curling the fingers of one hand into a loose fist, but he wasn’t done, following the trail of wine downward.

And when he closed his lips around your nipple and sucked, you let out a long, low moan, the sound ending on a cry of his name.

He didn’t say anything in return. Instead, Oberyn bit down, s sharp sting of pain brief but bright, the pressure decreasing at the same time he dragged his still-covered bulge against the apex of your thighs.

The wine bottle fell to the floor a few seconds later, but you barely heard it hit - nor did you care about the stain that was likely spreading across the carpet.

The only thing you were concerned about was the way Oberyn’s mouth felt as it moved across your chest - the press of his lips and the drag of his tongue all you could focus on.

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x female reader #turkey day 2023 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #oberyn martell masterlist #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #the red viper #red wine #thanksgiving feast

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