#pie is smut

[ennabear]

(18+) quick lil 3am headcanon: i think sevika gets off on intimacy. no matter how many hookups she has and how good they are, if she doesn’t feel some sort of connection she won’t cum. at least not very hard.

but this would mean that as soon as she meets you she’s horny all the time. you could be still in the talking stage, texting sevika late at night just to get to know her more, and behind the screen she’d have to shove a hand down her pants to relieve some of the tension building up in her core.

or she’d invite you over for a date at her place, ordering some takeout and allowing you to choose a movie, and she’d be squirming and rubbing her thighs together with the way you’re info dumping about your favorite film. it takes every ounce of self control in her to not pin you to the couch and use your body to get herself off.

and once you do start dating, she gives up on self control and completely submits herself to you. you’re giving her a back massage because she mentioned that it hurt? don’t think too hard about the way she’s whimpering. it’s midnight and you’re both still awake and giggling about some stupid silly youtube video? she’s soaked. she sees you in her clothes after a shower, hair wet with you looking all soft and fresh and domestic? creaming. hardcore.

it’s not that she doesn’t love your body, or the effortless way you get her off, but that added feeling of love washing over her pushes her to the finish line about ten times faster than usual.

[tired-biscuit]

i want to ride yuuji so bad and then start crying cause he’s so thick and big and then have his strong arms wrap around me and then he starts thrusting up and we’re both drooling and moaning that would be a dream

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: good girl, good girl, GOOD GIRL!

he’s cooing at you while caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears away, and it’s all so goddamn sweet that it outright hurts; in a good way, though.

always in a good way when it’s with him.

especially because he does it so effortlessly? being kind is like second nature to someone like yuuji and it’s hard not to melt into a puddle of gooey emotions and spill even more tears when he’s looking up at you with hearts in his warm honey-coloured eyes and there’s this prominently lovestruck look on his face that makes him look even dumber than he already is.

but he’s also cute, awfully so. his hair is an absolute mess, his lips are in the colour of dark pink from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin burns so hot that he’s sweating like crazy underneath the thick hoodie that he’s still got on. you’ve been in such a rush to get him inside you that you’re both still completely dressed, aside from the bits of clothing that have been tugged down and pushed to the side in order to make the entire thing easier for you, of course.

however, having all these layers on is simply excruciating. the heat makes him pant and causes his chest to heave in a faster rhythm than normal; and all those breaths make it somewhat hard to get all the praise that he feels for you out of his system.

but yuuji is no quitter. so he swallows the runny saliva that keeps on gathering in his mouth between sentences and threatens to spill past the corner of his lips. it’s audible and it makes his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet he still manages to thank you in hushed, trembling whispers and broken grunts and moans.

he thanks you for being such a good girlfriend; for being so willing to give it a chance when it comes to riding him and taking him in all the way, despite the fact that it’s only been a couple of days since he’s taken your virginity and your most sensitive parts are still sore and tender from all the gentle pounding — but pounding nevertheless — he had done after getting his first taste.

you feel heat sear your face as you listen to the jumble of gratitude he’s putting before you and look at him from underneath your lashes, trying to not pay mind how tears still cling to them as stubbornly as ever.

this entire thing has not gone the way you’ve imagined it to go at all and it’s frustrating as hell. and how couldn’t it be? i mean, you’ve known how big he is, have known how it feels to have him inside you, but jesus fucking christ, this position is nowhere as easy as missionary had been — and even then you’d struggled a great deal.

because now, you’re the one who has to do all the work while he sits there, looking pretty, sometimes eyeing how your arousal glistens on his pubic hair, even though your clit hasn’t come anywhere near to kissing the spot from how much of a hard time you’re having when it comes to sitting on his dick entirely.

if only you could just—

“hey,” he says the word with such care as he cups your cheek that it sends butterflies twirling in your belly. his hand is just so big, it urges you to pet yourself against it like a little kitty. “you okay?” yet another look that’s brimming with concern is thrown your way. “we don’t have to do this if it’s too much, you know… just tell me.”

“did you really mean all that?” you mumble the exact moment his hands reach for your hips, clearly aiming to manhandle you into a position that you’d be able to endure a bit better.

“mean what?” he asks, glancing downwards just for a second as your hands stop his own. his cock twitches in response — he’s always been such a sucker for hand holding and this time is no exception. when your fingers intertwine, his heart sings in answer.

“that i’m a good girl?” the eye contact that you initiate in return is determined instead of anxious all of a sudden and it makes his pupils visibly dilate right in front of you.

it seems like you’re no quitter either.

“‘course i did,” yuuji replies in a heartbeat, cherishing how you squeeze around him whenever he gives you his approval, his praise. “you’re such a good girl, my good girl, the goodest girl to ever walk the good girl planet... they should make you mayor of goodie town.”

you giggle at that and his smile quivers with pleasure from how it makes your pussy tighten even more. he’s doing everything he can not to grab you, press you against his chest and just follow instinct and start slamming away.

maybe next time… maybe you’ll be ready for it next time.

“you’re so silly,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time on the forehead. his skin tastes salty, and while it may be wrong, knowing that you’re not the only one that’s having a hard time right now makes you feel just a little bit calmer.

unbeknownst to you, the fact that you’re more relaxed allows you to take yet another inch of him inside you. your muscles slacken and his fat cockhead drags against your walls as a result, slipping and pushing in, in, in. the ring of cloudy white slick forms just a little below the lower half of his cock now, stretching you further and making your tummy feel hot and tingly.

it’s definitely progress.

and it makes poor yuuji moan straight into your mouth.

[angelinajolie0213]

thinking about spencer reid keeping his apartment WARM (despite literally all the science people saying to sleep cold) so then you both are sweating when getting it on and he’s spitting out all these statistics about burning calories during sex as he thrusts into you, then goes all awkward and recovers with “not like you need to lose weight or anything!” in his cutie patootie awkward sweet little way. he then proceeds to leave so many bruises on your legs you have to wonder how he can be such a ruthless little whore and also a cutie.

[jhopezwrld]

please please pleaseee write jack schlossberg relationship headcanons 😩🙏 i love your fics!!

YEAA MORE JACK LETS GOOOOO

dating jack schlossberg headcanons ——

cw: idk man but it’s pg i swear (maybe pg-13 at worst)

takes pictures and videos of everything and i mean everything

just woke up and your hair is crazy? he’s taking a picture. you’re singing in the car? he’s recording it. mid hair wash in the shower? he’s taking a picture.

somewhat affectionate in public but extremely affectionate in private

if you’re out on a walk or going shopping with him, he’s got your hand in his and you’re walking on the inside of the sidewalk and he’s keeping you as close to him as he can

at home he basically lives inside of your clothes with you. will sit next to you in your couch and pull your legs on top of his and rub your calves because he just loves to touch you

showers together!!! he loves the domesticity of it. you have to buy double of all of your hair care items bc he’s using them all. your conditioner doesn’t last more than a month with him staying with you

begs you to wash his hair all the time. he just loves when you play with it tbh

will happily pay for you to get your nails done just to feel them scratch his scalp

kisses all over your face when you wake up together in the morning

or he will sneak out if he wakes up before you to grab you both breakfast and coffee

loves watching you get ready for dates. he’ll sit on the edge of your bed and just admire you as you do your hair and makeup

goes to you for fashion advice all the time. he also secretly loves coordinating outfits with you

makes sure to tell you he loves you before you both go to sleep, even if you’re upset with eachother

sends you random videos of what he’s doing throughout the day

makes you playlists of songs that remind him of you

i feel like he’s just such a classic gentleman and does all the ‘gentlemanly’ things like open doors for you, pull out your chair, doesn’t let you pay for anything, all that kinda stuff

he’s really just the sweetest boyfriend ever like u cannot get any luckier

[pretty-circa006]

Pie

Negan x F! Reader

summary Negan fucks you when you try to bake a pie tags slight breeding kink, unprotected p in v, vaginal fingering, pet names, pussy eating, not proofread

wc 1.4k

note just finished a little wip i had sitting around. got the idea when i was listening to stargirl interlude, so maybe you wanna listen to that while reading

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

Negan was a great cook. It wasn't a well known fact considering he was a rather busy man with leading the Saviors and all. Occasionally, he'd make dinner for his wives and those were always her favorite days. And since last night was one of those nights, she wanted to do something to return the favor. 

So here she was in the kitchen, flour dusted her classy black dress and her fingers were sticky with pie filling as she worked on rolling out the dough for the pie's crust. This pie was going to be her way of thanking Negan for being such a good husband—at least to her. 

"What's all this?" she heard him ask from the entryway. 

"I'm baking you a 'thank you' pie," she replied as she lined the pie pan with the crust. 

"Thank you pie? The hell’s a 'thank you' pie?" 

"I dunno, just my way of showing you that I lo- appreciate you." She poured some of the apple filling into the crust, hoping he didn't catch her almost mistake.

"Well aren't you a sweetheart," he said wrapping his arms around her. His salt and pepper beard tickled her neck as he pressed kisses to it, ignoring her lighthearted pleas for him to stop distracting her. As she cut the leftover dough into strips, Negan reached over and scooped some pie filling from the bowl before sucking it off his finger. 

"Mmm! This is fuckin' delicious, baby," he rasped into her ear. Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. "Glad you like it." The kisses he was leaving on her neck grew more sensual –open mouthed with nips here and there– as she did her best to lay the lattice pattern with the dough atop the pie. His hands drifted from her hips down to her upper thighs where his hands slid beneath her dress, slowly lifting it until it was bunched up at her hips. She did her best to pretend like she wasn't distracted and continue to lay the pattern on top of the pie, but really, his touches were arousing her. 

"What're you doin'?" she asked him once his fingers looped around the waistband of her panties. He was too busy kissing down her shoulder to answer, but she had the feeling he wouldn't have answered anyway. In one fell swoop he yanked her panties down before his hand wedged its way between her legs. She let out a whimper, but otherwise continued with the pie. He began rubbing tight circles over her clit as he licked and sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her breathing grew shallow as her resolve began to fade. Restrained whimpers escaped her lips, but that wasn't good enough for him. 

"I wanna hear you, doll," he ordered. Her answer came out in the form of a breathy moan once he slipped a thick finger into her soaking pussy. Her hands gripped the counter as his finger glided in and out the spongy walls of her cunt. He inserted another and the gentle stretch felt so good. His thumb rubbed quick circles on her clit as he fingered her. Her thighs squeezed his hand as her hips ground onto his hand. With his foot, he nudged her legs further apart before increasing his pace. 

“Negan, please, I’m close,” she wantonly whined between pants. He pulled away from her neck with an audible pop, leaving what she was sure would be a sizable mark. He removes his fingers from her cunt which earned a displeased pout from her. She was about to object, but was cut off when he turned her to face him. Beneath his gaze, her entire body felt like it was on fire, especially between her legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her lips for a kiss. His hands slid up her body, beneath her dress, feeling her body wherever his hands could reach. His tongue slid between her smooth lips and she tangled her fingers in his hair as sigs and moans crossed between their lips, merging into one sound in their kiss. He lifted her before setting her onto a free space on the countertop. In need of breath, he pulled away from the kiss. Instead of going back to her lips, he kissed down her jaw, to her neck, then her collarbones before unzipping the back of her dress and sliding the straps down her shoulders. He lowered himself to his knees, looking at her with a smirk on his face as he did so, and spread her thighs open. Her cunt was practically leaking, desperate to be filled by the man beneath her, and my god he thought it looked delicious. He kissed his way up her leg, starting from her ankle, until he got to her inner thighs, right in front of where she wanted him most. He nipped and sucked at the soft flesh until he had her whimpering. 

“Please, Negan, I need you!” She begged, desperate for some attention on her neglected cunt. Finally, his soft lips surround her clit, sucking it gently for a moment before he pulls away. His warm, wet tongue licked a stripe between her folds, tasting her arousal directly from the source. Her fingers weave through his greying hair, pulling him deeper into her pussy. She finally got what she wanted when his tongue entered her hole. She leaned back, supporting her weight on her arms from behind. She threw her head back in a pleasured haze as his tongue worked magic on her pussy. The warm muscle worked its way around her velvety walls and pressed against her g-spot as his lips were practically making out with her lower ones. Her cunt squeezed his tongue and nails scratched at the countertop as she reached her peak with a scream of his name. His beard was glistening with her juices when he pulled away, a wide dimpled smile plastered on his face.

“Doll, you’re so delicious I almost forgot about that goddamn pie.” She giggled, smiling at him as she slid off the countertop. She was about to wash her hands and resume fixing the pie, but Negan stopped her in her tracks. 

“Oh I’m not done with you,” he growled. 

“But what about the pie?” She asked feigning innocence, batting her eyelashes.  She didn’t really care about the pie and it was obvious by the way she was undoing his belt buckle. 

“Forget that goddamn pie and bend over, babydoll.” He eyed her bare, plump ass as he freed his hardened cock from his pants. He slid it up and down her slick folds before lining it up with her needy cunt. He slid in almost effortlessly, his large dick stretching her hole, but filling her up perfectly. 

“This pussy was made for me,” he moans. His large hands hold her hips as he thrusts roughly into her, desperately wanting to reach his own orgasm. The sound and smell of sex filled the kitchen as he plowed into her from behind. Her head hung low as she cried his name over and over, nothing else on her mind but the man filling her. Tears from overstimulation flowed down her face as pleasure overtook her. Negan’s cock twitched inside of her, his own orgasm rapidly approaching.

“God you feel so good, baby. Can’t wait to fill this pussy.” The next thing that fell from her mouth was just garbled gibberish and lewd moans, but he knew that meant she’s close. He leans down over her body and intertwines his hands with the backs of hers. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear and pressed gentle kisses to the side of her head as he shot his load into her abused cunt at the same time she reaches her second orgasm. 

“You did so good for me, angel. Such a good girl,” he cooed as he slowly softened inside of her. 

After he pulled out of her,  he helped her get redressed, but by then she was too spent to even care about the pie. 

thank you for reading! <3

[multi-stays]

Whipped Cream

Paring: Bf Bang Chan x Gf FemReader

Genre: smut 18+, fluffy

Summary: Channie is awoken with a craving for some Whipped Cream but has nothing to eat it with……….. or does he?

Note:Happy Thanksgiving Y’all

✨💜warnings below the cut💜✨

_________________________________________

Warnings: oral sex!F receiving!, food play, straight kinky, smut 18+, reader is smol, is set after Thanksgiving

Proofread:still no sorry, if there’s an error comments are appreciated, only because I just thought about it Happy Early Thanksgiving 🍁

P.s I know there’s a few days still til Thanksgiving but it’s close enough, right? WHO cares

Walking over to the fridge wasn’t something you’d ordinarily be doing at 3 AM but knowing there was leftover pumpkin pie with your name on it made you dying for a slice.

Sneaking out of bed wasn’t an easy task, you knew better then anyone that your boyfriend Chan was a light sleeper. If you were caught you’d be forced to share and never would you hear the end of how tired he was. Being as quiet as possible you snuck out, making sure you closed the door behind you so the fridge light wouldn’t disturb him.

A few floor boards squeaked and the clock on the wall chimed causing you to jump. You were in the clear, you got out your pie and squirted a generous amount of Whipped Cream on top. Sitting back in your chair you enjoyed the sweet flavors of the pie Han made with you on Thanksgiving.

Only a few minutes had passed and the pie was already gone, thinking about how long it took you to make, it seemed pointless for how easily it disappeared. You adored every second of it tho, all the members at your place hanging out, eating to their hearts desire and not caring about their idol image.

Channie decided it was a good idea to get together every year on thanksgiving and come to an agreement about what to write on a thankful leaf to have as a “personal keepsake”as he so calls it. Some of the members thought it was a great idea, being able to look back and see what they all were most thankful for that year, others not so much.

Deep in thought you didn’t notice your boyfriend creeping up from behind you. His little face peeked at you from where he stood in the hallway. You turn to face him surprised by the way his face looked, awake and not like someone who had just been sleeping.

“I thought you were sleeping” you got no response from Chan, instead he walks over and put his arms around your neck slipping his hands down to your boobs, cupping underneath them like they were hand warmers.

“Something wrong?” You ask with a giggle but still no response, he pulls you from your chair and turns you by the chin to meet his gaze. Looking at him you see he’s staring not at your eyes but your lips, you hadn’t even noticed the Whipped Cream still on your lips from minutes ago. To nervous yet curious as is to why your boyfriend was acting so strange.

He swipes his thumb across your lip and finally answers with a soft “no”, before taking it in his mouth, moaning as he sucks on his finger. His eyes were shut and you could now tell he had a motive for his actions.

His movements were subtle but precise, like a lion stalking his prey he was trying to be sly and not startle you with his plan to make you feel good and have some fun at the same time.

“I was just not tired anymore and was awoken by the sound of the Whipped Cream bottle”

“I’m sorry babe I tried to be quiet, I know it’s hard for you to sleep” you said in a whine

“I was invaded with a thought” he said putting his hands around your waist.

“I don’t know just thought maybe I could eat some Whipped Cream, ya know?”

“You want some Whipped Cream?”

“Yea” he said in an instant, almost proud of himself.

Turning towards the counter to grab the bottle you can feel his hand slide to your thigh, the other still on your waist not letting you go from his hold.

“Here then silly have some” you said squirting some on his lips.

He giggled “I’m not the silly one, silly i need something to eat it on”

“There’s no pie left so you’ll have to get something else”

He licked the cream off his lips and rested his forehead against yours, now mere inches away from your face, you could smell his minty breath blowing into your nose.

“I want to eat it off of you Puppet”

Your breath hitched in your throat, flustered and probably beat red. The confidence in Chan’s voice making it harder for you to keep your composure.

Pulling you closer, Chan placed a sloppy wet kiss at the corner of your mouth. Slowly he crept his hand up to your neck and leaned into you further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. He pushed you back into the wall and kept you there, pressing his body against yours.

You don’t know from where but you found your confidence again, probably from realizing even tho he’s incredibly hot and the most sexy human being you’ve ever placed your eyes on, he’s still just Chan. The same Chan you go on long car rides around town with belting out your favorite songs together. The same Chan that kisses you to bed every night and says “I’ll see you tomorrow Puppet” making you feel safe and comfortable with him at all times.

You broke away from the kiss and teased him, taking of your top and spraying a small amount of Whipped Cream on your nipple. Quickly you knew you had to run, especially after that stunt you just pulled Chan was prolly rock hard and you haven’t even touched him yet.

Once inside, you laid down on the bed and made yourself comfortable while awaiting Chan’s next move.

“No need to worry Puppet, tonight’s about you and making you feel all good and taken care of, I promise”

He said it like he needed to reassure you, like you would run away if he didn’t say it. You knew Chan and reminded yourself of that, all nervousness and anxiety gone by his lil side smile and messy bleached curls that fell in his face.

Chan went to the cavern between your boobs, licking the sweet remains of the Whipped Cream that melted and slid there. Your foot found its way to Chan’s hard member in his pants, a reassuring smile against your skin as you rubbed it ever so slightly.

“God Puppet you taste so sweet” he said in between sucks.

You were squirming underneath him barely able to keep your composure with his big cloud like lips attached to you.

“Off” was all you could get yourself to say as you pulled at his shirt, he obliged pulling it over his head in one swift motion discarding it somewhere across the room. The satin feel of the skin on his pecks sent quivers down your spine, thinking of what other parts of your body would feel like dragging against it as your finger so effortlessly did now.

One breathy kiss on your skin led to the next, Chan slowly making his way down to your clothed cunt. All you had on was underwear so Chan could have easily slipped it off, but no. He did it oh so gently, delicately placing his fingers under the thin fabric and sliding it down, like you would brake if he hadn’t done it so excruciatingly slow.

He spreads open your folds pumping two fingers in, your tight walls surrounding him earning a breathy moan to escape from his lips.

“Fuck Puppet your so wet for me and I haven't even touched you yet”

Topically you didn’t want to look, to shy or embarrassed to do so but tonight was different in so many ways. You desperately wanted to see Chan pleasure you, watch him as he pumped his fingers inside you. Watch as the rings on his bony fingers disappeared and reappeared wet and glistening in the soft light. See Chan’s visual approval and the shudders that leave his body when he knows it feels good.

When Chan feels you are ready he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, savoring your essence left on his skin, something you’ve only ever seen him do so seductively.

He cocks his head and looks at you with a devilishly cute smirk, almost to cute especially when having sex “you had your late night snack now it’s my turn” grabbing the bottle of Whipped Cream from the bedside table he sprayed a small dollop on your clit. The feeling was cold but soft and you were already so wet and so desperate for friction you could care less what was on you as long as Chan accompanied it.

Chan stared at your vagina for a few seconds smiling like an idiot, felt like hours to you just laying there all worked up and horny whilst your boyfriend admired his work.

“What is it baby I’m wasting away” you whined, clawing at his arms in desperate attempt to make him move, blink even.

“I’m sorry Puppet your cunt is just to cute, your glistening folds and an adorable bundle of nerves now fashioned with a cute dollop of Whipped Cream.”

Feeling ashamed for having whined at him, you hid your face in a nearby pillow and tried your best to stay still as Chan drug his finger over your clit, pushing some of the Whipped Cream down your slit.

He then snaps, waisting no time diving nose first into your sweet wet pussy, devouring every inch of you, sucking the Whipped Cream off you and lightly flicking your clit with his tongue.

His large frame towering over you despite him being between your legs. You were always short and small, called a runt sometimes in school, but Chan swooped in and made you feel safe, with being so large and as muscular as he is it was easy to feel so. Accompanied with all his praising words he sorta became like your safe haven.

You were a mess head flung back and your eyes sealed shut, hands roaming for something to pull. As Chan prodded his wet tongue at your hole, your hands bolted to his hair, softly tugging at his roots trying to make him go further in your sex.

His movements were sloppy, your bed was a mess, your breathing was out of control, but you felt hot, rocking your hips into Chan’s face practically suffocating him between your thighs.

Chan knew you were close before you did, was probably very easy to tell from where he was “I know your close Puppet so just move me where you need me and I’ll help you.”

You pawed at Chan’s chest as he sprayed some more Whipped Cream on your soaking cunt, couldn’t even tell cause of how wet you felt. He pushed your legs up and started again, reattaching himself to his little bundle of nerves, sucking and licking in all the right places as you rode out your high.

After you cummed all over Chan’s face you were completely out of it, unable to move from how hard your orgasm hit you. All you could feel was Chan’s soft kisses around your groin and occasionally the warm feeling of a wet washcloth. Water slowly turning cold as he gently washed away all the Whipped Cream that may have been left on your fragile and sensitive skin.

Chan flopped down beside you pussy drunk and almost completely incoherent, staring off into space.

A small “cold Channie” was all you could mutter out, still high on your orgasm and tired from being up so late.

“Ok” he huffed while pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist, wetness from your oozing cunt now all over his bare stomach. Noticing he didn’t mind you snuggled closer to him, breathing in the musky smell of his faded cologne.

You let yourself be put in a trance by Chan’s small touches, flicking your hair back out of his face, rubbing small circles on your back with his soft fingertips, and the small gruff groans that he would make when you tried to move in closer, if that were physically possible.

The small up and down movements from Chan breathing and the moonlight coming from your open window soon sent you to sleep. You couldn’t tell if Chan was actually asleep or not, his eyes were shut but usually it takes him a couple agonizing hours of staring at the wall before he’s sleeping.

You felt safe like this with Chan so you didn’t let yourself worry too much. Could that have been selfish………. probably yes, but you just enjoyed his slow breaths as he rocked you soundly to sleep.

[hoe4kai]

[fallenneziah]

Last day and I told myself if I didn't get something in I would die. So, here it is. @glitterypirateduck

Military Aviation Pilot Ghost x his unofficial official partner. Cw: Wearing his dog tags, dog tags tugging, Ghost in sweatpants, kitchen sex, make-up sex (of sorts), Ghost with a head injury, messy proposal talks, a little spat. Look, I saw a cool jet gif and my life changed.

A mile high in hopes.

Simon stood outside the runway, watching people walk around along the tarmac and wave signals to the watch towers around. It was getting late, the evening glow had set in and the wrap up for the day crew was soon.

He stood by the wall with his gear and flicked his cigarette ashes down into the ground and smearing them with his boot.

The phone rang several times before he picked up, pressing it to his ear with a little smirk when he heard your voice. "Well well,"

"You in the air yet?"

"I'm answerin' m'phone love. No, I'm not up yet." He looked back at the ground, furrowing his brow and digging the toe of his boot back into the cigarette smudge, lifting the last of the thing to his lips.

"You'll make it home earlier tonight, won't you?" You were currently curled up on the couch, waiting on some dumb re-runs that you weren't terribly interested in. Food cooked away in the slow cooker on the counter, the aroma filling your small apartment with warmth.

"Yeah, yeah I'll be home." He looked up as one of the crew workers came over to him and motioned his finger in a circle.

"Gotta go love, they're putting me up."

"Simon, a little longer."

"Love, I'll be home in an hour or two, just wait up for me, all right?"

You shifted in the blanket and slumped your head back against the couch. You sighed a little and finally relented. "Ok, but I'm not saving you dinner if you aren't home by the time I get to it."

Simon exhaled the last drag of his cigarette and smirked. "Deal." He stamped out the last of the smoke and ended the call. Shouting ensued across the grounds as Simon got his helmet and his mask.

The crew around him did laps of his jet and unhooked the wheels. Simon climbed in and set the windshield down over him. "Here we go, pretty girl." He rubbed the interior over, admiring the blinking lights and the gauges coming to life with light.

He looked down across the crew as the jet was rolled out of the hangar and positioned on the runway. He flicked the necessary switches and looked down at the others around him. Control tower coming in through his head gear.

"Takin' the missus to the mile high club, Riley?"

Simon chuckled, a twinkle sparking in his eye. "Already have."

He started up the engine with the all clear and eased the throttle. The wheels rolled and he strapped on his breathing mask. Before long he was catching speed and pulling the jet up into the air.

"There we go." He smiled, keeping his gaze focused on the sky in front of him until he had the jet leveled out. The air against his wings shredded in splitting white streaks as he set off.

Once he was relaxed he looked around and out at the vast world below. He chuckled deeply and eased on the speed just a tad more.

You sat there, sipping your water as you watched the only thing that was on this late, those dumb soap operas. At the least it was somewhat entertaining.

The street was filled with the golden light of Christmas as the two main characters found themselves outside of a large Christmas tree. "It's beautiful!" She exclaimed, joy written on her face and the breathless wonder of her first Christmas.

You watched intently as the man looked at her with love, before kneeling down and opening a small box. Your silence continues as you rubbed his bare ring finger with concentration.

"Julia.. my dear, sweet love," He gently took her hand. "Will you marry me??"

Her eyes widened, and in a panic she-

The commercial break blasted through the room and your stupor was broken to quickly grab the remote and turn it down.

"Fuck." You grumbled and rubbed your forehead. You pushed the blanket aside and headed to the kitchen to check the slow cooker. You sighed softly and stared through the steamy lid, and then the timer over the dial. Your gaze lingered into your hands, flexing your fingers slightly and examining your nails, then your knuckles.

Your hands came to your chest and you rubbed the finger quietly. You wished he would propose already, it had been years, and you couldn't understand the hold up.

You reached back and fiddled with the chain on your neck, pulling out his dog tags. He had served before, part of him had wanted to start out in the Marines but after a flight crash left him with head trauma, that wasn't as acceptable anymore.

The clock ticked by slowly while you waited. The commercial break finished and the woman in the soap opera embraced her boyfriend-now-fiance, giggling and smiling brightly.

By the time Simon got home it was late. Once again. You were half asleep on the couch in front of your half eaten plate of rice and chicken.

Simon slowly opened the door and closed it behind him. He took off his bike helmet and set it down on the shelf. Unzipping his boots and sliding out of them.

Your eyelids fluttered down briefly. You lifted your head and looked over to the door as Simon came in. "Simon..?"

He tilted his head as he stepped into the darkness of the living room. "Hey sweetheart." He leaned down and kissed your cheek before walking down the hallway. You sat up and checked your phone, seeing how late it was.

You frowned and pushed aside your food. You leaned against the door frame in the bedroom and watched him undress. He slid off his jacket and tugged his sweat soaked shirt off his body.

He flexed and grabbed out his sweatpants from the closet.

"You're home late." You said.

Simon shifted and looked back at you through the mirror. "I know love, I'm sorry. I tried to call."

You slid your phone from your pocket, checking the call history. "You're lying, Simon."

You walked into the room as Simon pulled off his belt, flicking the loop with one hand and flicking it, tugging the belt out from around his waist.

"M'not lying."

You felt yourself start to deflate. Mentally you were done with him. "When are you going to get your head out of the clouds?"

Simon sighed as he slipped into his sweatpants and scratched his stomach. "I'm on the ground, aren't I?"

"That isn't what I meant."

Simon passed you and headed to the kitchen. "Simon, would you look at me!"

"What." He paused and looked at you. "I'm looking at you. What do you want?"

"I want you to stop lying to me."

"I'm not lying, I just forgot ok??"

"You always fucking forget! You forget to come home, you forget to talk to me, you won't even marry me so maybe we can set some things straight!"

Simon was quiet for a moment. He sighed and leaned against the sink, staring at the wall.

"Y'know it's going to be the same answer every time.." He muttered.

"I know, but I don't like that answer. I want to be able to help you, I want to get you medication and take care of you until we're old, but you won't fucking marry me!"

"Maybe because I'm not ready-"

"Then when will you be!?"

"I don't know!" He snapped.

Silence befell both of you. You stepped back and rubbed your hands as Simon went for a glass of water and his medication.

After he took the pills he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, ok? I'm just... I feel better when I'm up there."

You looked back up at him, your hands still nervously fidgeting. "So, you don't feel good, with me?"

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm not saying that at all. I love... You, I love hanging out with you. But I'm not in a good spot." He whispered a little.

"Then let me help you."

He swallowed thickly. "I can't..."

You shuffled over to him slowly. Simon watched you, his hand tightened on the edge of the sink. He leaned in closer, his other arm touching your hip. "M'gonna marry you.."

"You promise?"

He nodded, leaning down so his forehead touched yours. "I promise.. I'm gonna marry you." He rubbed his thumb against your hip.

You relaxed slightly and tilted your head up to capture his lips. Simon inhaled sharply and leaned toward you. Your hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him toward you.

"Make it up to me for coming home late."

He kissed you back and groaned softly into your mouth. He inhaled and slipped his tongue into your mouth, his hands roaming slowly to the hem of your shirt.

"I can do that..." He muttered through kisses. He back you up until you hit the counter. Your hands roamed across his neck, squeezing his pecs and groaning into the kisses.

Your tongues sloppily pressed together and tangled. He breathed in your scent and lifted your shirt up and tugged it up over your shoulders, breaking a trail of saliva to get it off.

You panted and kissed him again, your bodies colliding together and his hands moved back to unlatch your bra.

You groaned excitedly and leaned back to look into his eyes. "You know I love you?" He nodded breathlessly and ran his hand through your hair, tugging your head back gently and began to kiss your neck.

"Mmn, I love you too."

He grunted and tugged at your bottoms, yanking them down and leaving you in just your underwear.

"You're gorgeous.." He growled and leaned down, his tongue flicking out and licking over your collar bone.

You gasped and gripped his arms. You arched your back and ground into him, your hands roaming and grabbing at the muscles on his body.

He moaned softly and lifted you up onto the counter, spreading your legs apart and slipping his hands to the band of your underwear, slowly peeling them aside. You looked down, his forehead pressing against yours and his thumb pressed against your clit. You breathed out through your mouth and tangled your fingers in his hair. He hummed deeply and rubbing his thumb in firm circles over your clit while listening to your little gasps.

"Fuck…" He kissed your collar again and with his free hand he brought one of your breasts to his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the bud of your nipple and gave it a little tug. Fire sparked in your chest, the air in your lungs seemingly snatched from you before you could think.

Your hands squeezed his hair, and your hips jerked against his hand. He moaned and kissed the valley between your breasts. "Mm, good girl.." He murmured, and pulled his hand away to push down his sweatpants. His cock sprang free and he wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull you closer to the edge, and the tip of his cock brushed against your labia.

You panted softly and reached down, grasping the base of his cock and pushing him into your heat. "Oh- fuck." He groaned and his brows furrowed. "Wastin' no time…" He breathed out heavily and slid into your warm cunt. The thick warm walls contracted around his cock, welcoming him deeper. He stretched you out, his hand returning to your clit to continue pressure on it.

You gasped and rocked your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist. He panted and pressed his forehead against yours, starting a fast pace. His balls smacked against your ass, his tip bumped into your spongey core and your eyes rolled back into your head.

You cried out, the pleasure washing over you and gripping him closer. You never wanted to let him go. His smell washed over you and took you under like a massive wave you couldn't bring yourself to fight. It was like slowly drowning, losing everything so long as he had his arms around you.

"God.. oh god-" You moaned, his lips meeting yours for another kiss. "Simon.." You breathed, and he grunted, his hips thrust faster, his free hand reached up and wrapped around your throat. Your head tilted back and you gasped for air as his thumb and forefinger pressed into the columns under your jaw, making it harder to get oxygen. Your cunt started to drip soaking wet with each thrust. His cock sliding deep pelvis against pelvis, and the pull out. It barely gave your walls a moment before he was sliding back in at a forceful speed.

He watched the fluttering expression on your face and it made his stomach twist in the best way possible. His gaze zoned on your soft lips before gazing down at your cunt taking him so well.

"Simon-!" You choked. His hand shifted down your neck and wrapped the chain of his old dog tags around his knuckles to tug you closer.

"Mine." He groaned, and his thrusts got harder. The sound of wet squelches and skin against skin echoing in the apartment. Your legs tightened around his waist and you gasped as he hit your g-spot over and over. Your walls contracted around him and you let out a cry. Your back arched and you clenched up tightly, a rush of warmth flowing down from your belly.

"Fuck, fuck-!" You gasped and dug your nails into his back. Simon grimaced and tugged you closer. He pulled you off the counter and held you tightly in his arms, locking his arms around you.

You moaned loudly as you came. Feeling his body against you and his ragged breath against your face made your heart pound. He loved you. You shuddered and came hard on his cock, whining when he tugged you closer.

He fucked you through your orgasm, whispering sweet nothings against your ear. Your eyelids fluttered closed, and he kissed you roughly. Your tongue met his halfway. You panted against his lips, and his tongue licked yours, sucking on it.

His own orgasm was building, his balls tightening and his tip dripping precum. He held onto you, slowly shifting you along his cock until his grip relaxed, focused on kissing you. You desperately kissed him, inhaling his smell and chasing the butterflies that filled your stomach every time he gave your body attention. A feeling only his touch could reward you with.

Simon groaned against your mouth and slid his cock out of your cunt. You attempted to move away but Simon gently grabbed you again to keep you close. He caressed your hip and stroked his cock, cumming cross your abdomen.

You panted, looking up at him and then his hand working the last of his orgasm out. "Mm…" You leaned into his body, nuzzling his shoulder.

"Love you."

He panted softly and brushed some of your hair away to kiss your shoulder. "Love you too, sweetheart.."

He smiled tiredly, and looked around. "Let's go to bed."

He helped you and kissed the side of your face, walking to the bathroom to wash up. Using a warm wash cloth against your skin, and then following you to the bedroom. You both laid down and you curled up close to his chest. His arms wrapped around you and nuzzled the top of your head with a gentle kiss.

"I know I forget a lot now… But I promise that your needs and wants will not be."

That made tears start in your eyes. You curled up closer and squeezed him tightly. He smiled a little and rubbed your back. When he was ready, he would marry you. He didn't want to keep you waiting, he just needed some time, and the money. And he would make you Mrs. Riley.

[mlqueen89]

Hi! Can I request Thanksgiving with Marc Spector? Pls make it smutty

UHM. YES, ANON. YES. Sorry it took me so long, but here you gooooo! ♡

pairing: marc spector x f!reader (moon knight)   

rating: 18+ (minors dni)   

warnings/triggers: smut, fingers in “pie”, oral (m & f receiving), (unprotected) p in v sex, slight dom behaviour, dirty talk, cream pie.

word count:  5,231

summary: november prompt request. marc has a kink for finger sucking which might definitely make you late for thanksgiving dinner with your family. 

A/N:  wanted to get this one out before American Thanksgiving. here you go guuuuys, enjoy smutty marc—thanks anon for requesting this one! p.s.: pleeeeeease read this at the dinner table or in front of your family and think about smutty marc. lemme know how that goes. also sorry, cause i don’t think i could write anything short to save my own damn life.

❥ masterlist ♡ requests ♡ taglist ❥ 

“Pumpkin or apple?” You peered at the beautiful pies lined up behind the glass at the bakery, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you balanced your phone between your cheek and shoulder. 

“What?” Marc’s response crackled through the phone, and you could hear the faint sounds of a crowded grocery store in the background. Marc had offered to brave the Thanksgiving rush crowd that morning, leaving you at your shared apartment, apron tied around your waist, staring at a variety of ingredients and a mommy blogger’s recipe.

It had taken you three reads of the entire recipe, flour already spilled on the front of your old band tee, before you decided that there was a perfectly good bakery a fifteen-minute walk from here. Better to play it safe.

“Pumpkin or apple.” 

“You said you’d bake it, didn’t you?” His voice took on a cautious edge, the kind he reserved for tense negotiations and life-or-death situations.

You laughed, dry, incredulous, catching the curious glance of the teenager behind the counter. “Marc, baby,” you drawled, straightening and pacing toward the large plate glass window, “do you remember what happened the last time I tried to bake a pie?” 

“Are you talking about the fire or Steven being sick for a week?” 

“Exactly,” you replied, ignoring that the question was an either or situation. His response was enough to prove your point. 

“So…”

“So, I’m going to play it safe this time...” You studied your freshly manicured nails, the deep merlot polish shining in the mid-November sun streaming in through the bakery’s front window. “I’ll just take it out of the box, put it in a pie plate and—”

“Bob’s your uncle,” Marc finished and you could almost hear the smile in his tone. It still made your stomach do that stupid little flip it did, the same one you’d felt on your first date with him.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” you replied, the same smile in your voice as you nodded at the teenager to box up the pumpkin pie.

“Look, I’m cutting it close,” Marc said, his voice taking on that familiar clipped efficiency that you found strangely sexy. “I still have to grab the bread rolls and that canned cranberry sauce your uncle likes.”

You suppressed a gag. “How is it possible that someone willingly eats canned cranberry sauce?”

“Maybe it’s, I dunno—nostalgic?” He offered lightly.

“Or a very loud cry for help,” you muttered, tucking the boxed pie under your arm as you made your way to the register. “Anyway, just don’t be late. You know how my mom gets.”

“Oh, I remember,” Marc replied dryly, and you could practically hear him bracing for what was to come later that evening, sitting in a tiny split-level your parents refused to sell, all 19 of your family members crammed inside.

“Just—this is the first time you’re meeting my family, and it’s Thanksgiving—” you began, trying your best to underpin your nervous energy. You were sure Marc had clocked it from the moment you woke up last week with the odd stomachache and nauseated feeling that came only with the burgeoning terror of yet another family gathering.

“Hard to forget,” Marc sighed. You could hear the shuffle of activity on his end of the line, probably weaving between aisles and other patrons with the precise, purposeful strides that were very typical of Marc. “You’ve only reminded me six times this week.”

“I know it’s a bit—” you waved your hand even though you knew Marc couldn’t see it, trying to conjure the words clouding your mind, “much. It’s just because this year can’t be like last year.”

Even though you had been with Marc officially since before last Thanksgiving, this was the first time your family was meeting him.

Last year’s planned gathering had been efficiently derailed by what your family simply referred to as “The Great Turkey Incident,” which in reality was not simply just a series of near—catastrophes involving a broken oven, a kitchen fire, food poisoning and your sister swearing off hosting any family gathering for all of eternity. Your mother still choked up when you mentioned it, your father subsequently had to be medicated for high blood pressure. You assumed the latter had nothing to do with “TGTI,” but your dad swore up and down it did, in his thickest Bostonian accent, which only surfaced in moments of high stress or anger.

This year, your mother announced in August, would be better. Less chaotic. Normal or at least in the neighbourhood of normal. It remained to be seen, however, if that was at all possible. Property value in the Normal Neighbourhood had skyrocketed in the last year or so. 

On one hand, Marc’s specialties were vast, especially when it came to making and keeping you extremely north of happy. Being normal, through no fault of his own, just wasn’t exactly one of those specialties.

As you stepped out of the bakery, into the November chill, you stopped, gathering yourself. “You’ve got this,” you amended softly, a bit for yourself and some for Marc too.

“What? Charming your entire family or surviving the day without anyone finding out about my… extracurricular activities?”

 “Both,” you teased, your smile pulling up the corners of your lips until your cheeks hurt. How you’d gone so many years of your life without loving this man was beyond you.

“Great.” Marc’s response was quick, the hint of dry humour rolling through the phone, “piece of cake.”

“Pie. Piece of pie,” you shot back, “pumpkin, specifically.”

You smiled despite yourself, pulling your coat tighter as a chilly November breeze swept down the street. “It’s just… important to me, Marc. They’ve been waiting to meet you for ages, and after everything that happened last year…”

“I get it,” he said, his voice softer now. “But you don’t have to worry. I’ve got this.” 

You stopped on the corner, letting his reassurance settle over you. Despite his gruff exterior and his tendency to run headfirst into danger, Marc Spector had a way of grounding you when you needed it most. 

“See you soon, babe,” Marc sighed, and though his words were casual, there was something calming in the way he spoke, the cadence of his voice a soothing sound.

“Oh! Don’t forget the flowers!” You reminded him, just before he could hang up, as you dashed across the street toward your car, a death grip on the pie box.

There was a long pause on the other end, so long that you pulled the phone away from your face to see if he’d accidentally hung up. “Flowers?”

“Just—trust me. It’ll win my mom over.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, a note of reluctant determination in his voice.

“Thanks, baby,” you smiled, making a kissing sound before you hung up the phone and carefully deposited the pie into the passenger seat and belted it in like precious cargo.

Tucking your phone away into a pocket, you shifted into the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel for a moment as you looked at the bustling street and sidewalk outside. This Thanksgiving was bound to be memorable—whether for all the right reasons or for another chapter of family chaos, you weren’t entirely sure. But if anyone could handle it, it was Marc Spector.

You hustled up the stairs to your second floor apartment, precious pie cargo gripped tightly in your hands as you pressed against the stubborn front door.

Marc had texted you about five minutes ago complaining about being at the back of some absurdly long lineup at the cashes, so you figured you had about 30 minutes to shower, get dressed and pull off the great pie lie.

Depositing the pie on the kitchen island, you hurried to the bathroom, stripping layers of clothing in a trail on your way. The hot spray of the water a welcome calm before the storm that would Thanksgiving with your family. Even when there weren’t disasters to speak of, there were differing opinions on everything ranging from politics to sports, celebrity dating drama to conspiracy theories. It was enough to drive even the most sane person, absolutely, stark—raving mad. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just north of wary introducing Marc into this mix that was already a powder keg.

Maybe this year, you’d pitch that next year, your family could celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving instead: early October, no arguments over politics, singing Kumbaya and sharing maple flavoured desserts while saying “sorry” a lot. That was how Canadians did it, right?

You were in the middle of thinking maple dappled, northern thoughts under the warm cascade of water when you heard the telling sound of the sticky front door of your apartment opening, followed by the sound of Marc’s voice, calling your name.

“Shower!” You called, though you were sure that Marc would be able to follow the trail of clothing even if you hadn’t answered

By the time you’d wrapped up the shower and stepped out from the steamed room, you found Marc in the kitchen, his eyes peering into the pie box curiously, the lid lifted carefully. “I think you’re going to owe me for enabling this lie,” his eyes were still on the pie box as you padded into the kitchen in your towel. Replacing the lid daintily, he handled the dessert like it was ticking, wired with red and blue leads and affixed with a countdown clock before his eyes flicked up to you. You didn’t miss the way he assessed your clothing situation, or lack thereof.

It was one of the many things you loved about this man, he made no show of hiding that he was always one opportune moment away from fucking you.

“First of all,” you started, folding your arms across your chest, “it’s not a complete lie: it was baked by someone, just not me. So, more like pie-adjacent authenticity. If my mom buys it, then I think I owe you—a thank you.”

Marc raised an eyebrow, “a thank you, huh? That’s all I get for being complicit in a fib to save you from culinary embarrassment?”

“Depends,” you smirked, stepping closer to peak into the top of one of the paper bags on the counter, “did you pick up the flowers?”

Marc smirked, tipping his head to a small bouquet of seasonal blooms sitting on the counter. “I think you’re just trying to distract me from the conversation—we were talking about how much you owe me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep a straight face as Marc stepped in closer, narrowing the space between you. “Fine. Thank you, Marc. You’re my Thanksgiving hero.” You feigned a swoon.

“Damn right, I am,” his voice dropped an octave, his hand finding your toweled waist, pulling you across what little distance remained between you. He dipped his head to your neck and you moved to allow him access, your body responding as if moving with him as he explored your body came as naturally as breathing, as easy as the path of orbit, the innate pull of gravity.

You eased into the touch of his lips, losing yourself in the feeling of him against your skin, suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you could feel the heat coiling low, between your legs, the wetness that had nothing to do with your shower growing.

“Marc…” you huffed as his hand left your waist and tangled in your damp hair at the nape of your neck, his other hand finding the top of the towel tucked against your body. “Careful…” you teased, but you were breathless as the words came out, no real urgency or command in them, “we still have to leave on time and you’re not exactly dressed for a first-time dinner with my family.”

“Plenty of time,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers hooked at the top of your towel, a single, gentle tug the only thing between you and the hungry man who stood before you, waiting to devour you completely.

If you didn’t have anywhere to be, you’d have shed the towel, found his belt and been on your knees in front of him, your mouth aching to be around his thick cock. But you did have somewhere to be and around the haze of the way Marc set your skin on fire under his touch, just on the edge of a losing battle between desire and responsibility, you knew you couldn’t. You’d attend dinner, stay an appropriate amount of time and then make sure to congratulate him for surviving your family on the drive home down a darkened stretch of backroad.

“You’re making this really hard for me….” you breathed out in a cross between a huff and a groan, pressing your hands flat against his chest and pushing without much effort, almost as if you wanted to say you’d put up a fight and had lost. There was always Christmas dinner, that was right around the corner, right?

“I was about to say the same thing.” His voice was a little more than a growl, a rumble in his chest you could feel beneath your palms, still flattened on his chest.

“Marc, baby,” you whispered, a small yelp interrupting your next words as he nipped at your jaw just below your ear, he was good. Too good. Marc had a way of making you forget where you were, of making everything around you melt away until it was just  you and him, him and you, locked in perpetuity, together. “This isn’t going to get you out of wearing a tie….”

Marc groaned, his head falling to your bare shoulder and you turned to press your nose to his scalp, his soft, dark curls smelling of sandalwood and something distinctly him. “It was worth a shot….” he muttered after a moment before he kissed your collarbone and swiftly turned you around, giving you a slight, gently nudge toward the back bedroom. “Now go get dressed before I change my mind about taking that towel off.”

You sighed, pressing your knees together for a moment before you looked back at him over your shoulder, his hand pressed against the countertop for support, the bulge in his jeans clearly visible from where you stood. “Marc?”

His response was little more than a strained hum of acknowledgement, his eyes drawing up to you.

“Wear the tie Steven likes,” you smiled, partly knowing the playful tease would wedge somewhere under his skin, a small little dig, “it brings out your broody eyes. It’ll give you more of the boy-next-door look and less of the guy your mom warns you about.”

You carefully opened the lid of the pink pie box, using a knife to tactfully slice the tape holding it closed.

When you made it to the back bedroom, still in your towel, you thought briefly about touching yourself, loudly enough to entice Marc to finish what he started. It took you half a minute to decide against it, instead picking out Marc’s favourite pleated skirt, the one that was just barely appropriate for a family dinner. The one he’d fucked you in over the back of your couch after he brought you home from your third date together at that cute mini putt place downtown.

If you couldn’t fuck him now you’d make him sweat through the dinner, make him think about all the ways he wanted to fuck you when you got home.

You were only slightly disappointed that Marc was in the shower when you headed back into the kitchen. Quickly though, the disappointment faded to dread when you realized that you still had to plate the Lie Pie, the Pumpkin Pretense.

You were trying to lift the pie out of the box, when you felt hands on your waist, “you’re not playing fair,” Marc’s voice was next to your ear, his breath warm against your neck sending a shiver down your spine, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Jesus, Marc!” You jumped, your hand slipping off one side of the pie, your index finger and thumb dipping into the custard pumpkin filling and pieces of the perfect crust crumbling into the top of the pie. You froze and you could feel Marc stiffen at your back.

Marc broke the silence first. “It looks more… uh—realistically baked by you?” He rubbed the back of his neck and you huffed, carefully setting the pie back down in the box. You felt Marc leave your back and watched from the corner of your eye as he shuffled over to the cutlery drawer. “It’s okay—it’s fine. We’ll just, smooth it down and crumble some of the other edges and—”

You noticed that Marc was shirtless, his dark hair damp from the shower, a white towel tied around his waist. Suddenly, you felt like the skirt wasn’t diabolical enough. Your man naturally exuded “fuck me” vibes. You’d absolutely dine on this image of him through dinner. In fact, at this rate, your eyes raking over the hard lines of muscle banding his shoulders and arms, the deep cut of his abs trailing below the line of the towel, you’d be the one opting to skip Thanksgiving dinner and beg him to undo you.

When he moved back behind you, a butter knife in hand to remedy the situation, you could feel the outline of his cock, fitting just between your ass cheeks through the thin materials of the skirt and the towel. You swallowed thickly.

The thought made you smirk, Marc always wanted you and that thought alone drove you crazy with want. Still, you tried to remember that this was supposed to be the year that your family met him, this was supposed to be the big leap in your relationship with him.

“Okay, so just—,” you pointed to the spot on the pie where you could see the divots from your fingers. Marc moved the knife over to the spot you’d pointed to, carefully trying to figure out how he could make it look like a more natural flaw. “Yeah, I mean, I’d just kind of—”

Without thinking, you stuck your thumb in your mouth, carefully sucking off the custard as you pointed to the offending dents in the pie with your other hand. You noticed when the knife in Marc’s grip faltered and his knuckles whitened against the handle. You were sticking your index finger between your lips when you turned to look at him and froze, his face so close to yours, but his eyes were on your mouth and the finger currently trapped between your lips. You could hear his breathing hitch for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening as his own tongue moved to whet his lips. Behind you, you could feel the length of him twitch against your body and it was enough to make the coiling heat pulse low, between your legs.

In a fraction of a second, he’d abandoned the knife on the counter with a clatter, grasping your wrist as he pulled your finger from your mouth and stuck it in his up to your second knuckle. Slowly, he pulled it from his mouth, careful to relish the taste of the sweet dessert on you.

“You had to go and do that, didn’t you?” He huffed lowly as your finger left his mouth, clean, the sound almost a rumble in his chest and you leaned your head back against him. You definitely weren’t going to make it in time for dinner, but you’d known that when you slipped into the skirt. You were playing a dangerous game around Marc and he’d broken first.

“Marc…” you tried to sound exasperated, but his name came out as a whine as his rough hand slid up your thigh and dipped under the hem of your skirt. You could feel his hard cock against your ass through his towel as he pressed himself against you tightly. Instinctively, you pushed back and ground yourself against him and he groaned in response, his arm banding around your waist and anchoring you to him.

Reaching behind yourself, you wriggled to reach his length, but he moved just out of your reach, your fingers just brushing the rigid outline of him beneath the towel.

“Careful, gorgeous,” he murmured in your ear, a low warning, “not too fast. I’ve been wanting you all fucking day—”

Your head swam, the thought of him inside of you, pumping, pulsing, stretching you, bottoming out on repeat blurred all else. His fingers reached for the line of your panties under your skirt, and paused when they found none. You could feel his smirk against your neck as he alternated between kissing and nipping.

“Looking for something?” You hummed, teasing. Pleated skirt and no panties—you’d been asking for it, waiting for him to discover it. Though, to be fair, you hadn’t expected he’d find out this soon, not while you were still at home, at least. In testing his resolve, you’d set a trap for yourself, overestimating your ability to keep yourself from him.

Marc didn’t pause for long, his fingers following the lines of your already slick pussy until he found your swollen clit and began to massage in long, generous strokes. You sighed, humming as you melted into his touch.

“Can’t decide if you’re a bad girl or a good one….” Marc’s voice was low, his hips rutting against you as if he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t keep from the pleasure he felt as his shaft rubbed against the towel that rubbed against you. You responded under his touch in kind before the sound of a grunt that escaped him had you turning in his arms to face him.

“I can decide for you,” you murmured, low, your tone just on the edge of sing-song, husky with want. You just wanted him inside of you, any way you could get him. You began to sink to your knees in front him, your fingers hooked on the top of his towel. It came away easily, the cotton pooling at his feet, his cock springing out, erect.

Coyly, from your knees, you looked up at him through your lashes as he looked down on you, his pupils blown wide. You kept direct eye contact as you ran your tongue, wide and flat on the underside of him, tracing the path of the pronounced vein from base to ridged tip, slowly.

The deep moan that you pulled from his lips was enough to undo you, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft as you slowly guided the length of him inside your mouth.

“Fuck, baby. I—I just—if you,” his words were choppy, interspersed with muttered curses, grunts and groans as your tongue made careful paintings on the underside of his pulsing cock, the taste of precum filling your mouth with each pass. “I’m going to—fuck, baby—”

Marc pulled you up from your knees before he dropped to his, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before he set in on your wet center.

Holding yourself against the counter behind you, you arched your back, biting your lip against the moan that sounded more like a plea for more. As you reached for an edge of counter to grip, the tips of your fingers nudged the abandoned pie box. “Marc—fuck, fuck, fuck—” You pressed yourself up on the tips of the toes on the one leg that was still planted on the ground, your toes on the leg over Marc’s shoulder curling until your foot threatened to cramp.

“You said boy-next-door,” Marc huffed out a small laugh, the edges of his voice tinged with need as he lightly kissed your throbbing clit. He knew exactly how to drive you to the edge of madness and hold you there until you begged him to throw you over. “Is that what you want me to be right now?”

“F—oh god, fuck the boy next door,” your words were without heat, your tongue heavy, your mind a swirl of fog; you were malleable in his hands, you’d do anything he asked if he just said the words.

“Oh, is that what you want? I can get Steven out here if you—” Marc teased, stopping the perfect alternation of tongue and nose, thumb and light, maddening suction with his lips against your pulsating center. Before he could finish, you ground your hips into his face, cutting off his next words as you pressed your pussy against his mouth, encouraging him to continue with a moan as he licked a stripe between your folds carefully. Marc was nothing if not tactical, precise.

“Marc,” his name came out strained as you braced yourself against the counter at your back, your leg hooked over his shoulder as his fingers dug into your ass, pinning you in place, “please…”

You could feel yourself ascending, reaching the peak, your hips gyrating against each stroke of his tongue as he ate you out.

“Say my name, baby...” he murmured, his finger slipping into your wet cunt, his chin and mouth slick with you as he looked up at you from under dark lashes, his deep brown eyes blown wide. His gaze held yours, your chest heaving with each deep stroke of his thick finger, before he added another and you gasped, stretching around them. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips before he dipped to pepper light, noisy kisses on your clit.

“Marc—” you barely formed his name, your hand leaving the counter to grab a handful of his beautiful hair. “Please, I need you, now, right now—holy fuck—.”

Marc hardly ever lost control, hardly ever cracked, but when he had you, naked and begging for him… you felt powerful, like you held kryptonite, the kind that would bring Marc to his knees, quite literally.

Marc stood, holding you steady as your leg slipped off his shoulder and you lost your balance. Grabbing a nearby stool, he lifted you swiftly onto the edge of it, wedging himself between your open legs, the tip of his weeping cock nudging your slick opening. He held himself there for a moment, his hands on your hips, steadying you, his eyes holding yours as you wriggled, chest heaving, on the verge of begging for him to fill you.

“Say it again,” Marc’s eyes, dark with lust, held yours and you complied.

“Fuck. Me.” You breathed the words, low and clear, his thumb rubbing through your folds rhythmically, “please.”

Marc didn’t need to be told twice, his hips thrusting up into you, his length filling you as you gasped. Each thrust pulled him out nearly all the way, the long strokes, paired with the pressure of his pubic bone send you cascading over the edge. Marc wasn’t far behind, his pulsing cock emptying inside of you as you squeezed around him and you both breathed out the sounds of release.

“Well—” you sighed, content as you carefully balanced on the edge of the stool, your breathing evening out as Marc stood before you naked, still erect. “I think we’re definitely going to be late now.”

“Fashionably late?” Marc shrugged, bending to gather the forgotten towel off the floor. As he straightened, he stepped up to the counter, reaching across to grab the bouquet of flowers. “At least we have these and the—” Marc’s hand swept across the counter, misjudging the distance between him and the pie box.

The low thud of the pink box, pie still inside, hitting the tiled floor in the kitchen quickly wiped away the post-sex haze and you looked up at Marc, his eyes shifting to the floor and back to you, apologetically.

You shifted your weight as you and Marc stood on your parents’ porch, catching your breath after rushing from the car. Marc adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, still looking annoyingly put together despite the… delay. A delay that lead you to be a whole two hours late, between that and the pie clean up.

Meanwhile, you were still hoping no one would notice the hastily fixed flyaways in your hair or the slight flush on both your faces. You had left the skirt at home, put on some panties and changed into a more family appropriate green dress.

“You ready?” you asked, glancing at him, the glow of the yellowed porch light catching the angles on his face. “Remember, if my cousin Alex asks you about anything to do with his Art History classes, it’s okay to let Steven take the wheel for a bit…”

Marc smirked, his eyes raking over you appreciatively in a way that always made you feel loved. “More than ready. But next time, sweetheart, maybe we shouldn’t start something when there’s a ticking clock involved.”

You gave him a pointed look, though your lips twitched with amusement. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“You were wearing that skirt. I think you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into,” he teased, leaning in for a quick peck, “it’s not like you tried to stop me.”

Before you could retort, the door swung open.

“Finally!” your mom exclaimed, throwing her arms wide. “I thought I was going to have to start without you.” Her eyes lit up as she took Marc in. “And this must be Marc.”

Marc straightened, offering his hand with a charming smile. Oh good, he was trying the Steven approach first before laying into the smolder. “It’s great to finally meet you, Mrs—”

“Oh, none of that Mrs. nonsense,” your mom blustered, swatting his hand away to pull him into a hug instead. Marc stiffened for a beat before relaxing into it, casting you a slightly wide-eyed look over her shoulder.

Your mom pulled back, beaming. “I’ve heard so much about you. Now, come in, come in! Dinner’s almost ready, and everyone’s starving. Where’s that pie you were bringing?”

You froze for half a second before slipping seamlessly into a casual smile. “The pie?”

“Yes, the pie,” your mom said, hands on her hips. “Pumpkin, wasn’t it? You said you’d bring it. You texted me about it this afternoon—”

Marc opened his mouth to speak, but you jumped in, shooting him a sly grin. “Oh, uh—there was a pie shaped accident… a tragic end, really. I was really proud of the way it turned out too.”

“Tragic end?” your mom repeated, eyebrows arching.

Marc cleared his throat, stepping in smoothly to fill the gap. “Completely my fault, actually. I wasn’t paying attention, and it ended up on the floor. I promise to make it up to you—I’ve got a knack for desserts. Next time, I’ll bake something myself.”

Your mom looked between the two of you, her lips twitching as though she didn’t quite buy the story but wasn’t going to press. “Well, accidents happen,” she said, waving it off. “But next time, you’re on pie duty, Marc.”

Marc smiled, his charm dialed up to full. “It’s a deal.”

As your mom led the way to the dining room, you leaned into Marc, whispering, “Nice save.”

“You owe me,” Marc smirked down at you, his hand brushing the small of your back.

“Pretty sure you’re the one who owes me, pie destroyer.”

His low chuckle followed you both into the warm chaos of Thanksgiving dinner.

Tags: @silvernight-m

A/N: i make all the banners and dividers myself. if you want to be tagged - hmu here

[citruswriter]

Creepypasta Masterlist

Characters I Write For

Slenderman 💛/🩷

Splendorman 💛

Trenderman 💛/🩷

Sexual Offenderman 💛/🩷

Zalgo 💛/🩷

Tim/Masky 💛/🩷

Brian/Hoodie 💛/🩷

Ticci Toby 💛/🩷

Rodrigo/Cat Hunter 💛/🩷

Kate the Chaser 💚/🩷

Liam/X-Virus 💛/🩷

Eyeless Jack 💛/🩷

Ben Drowned 💛/🩷

Dark Link 💛/🩷

Glitchy Red 💛/🩷

Strangled Red 💛/🩷

Herobrine 💛/🩷

Homicidal Liu/Sully 💛/🩷

Jeff the Killer 💛/🩷

Jane the Killer 💚

Nina the Killer 💚/🩷

Laughing Jack 💛/🩷

Laughing Jill 💚/🩷

Candypop 💛/🩷

Jason the Toymaker 💛/🩷

Nathan the Nobody 💛/🩷

Johnathan/The Puppeteer 💛/🩷

Helen/Bloody Painter 💛/🩷

Dina/Judge Angels 💚/🩷

Natalie/Clockwork 💚

Kagekao 💛/🩷

Hobo Heart 💛

Sally Williams 🧡

Minkie Pie 🧡/🩷

Blinkie Pie 💚/🩷

Blinkie Pie 💚/🩷

Pinkie Pie 💚/🩷

Derpy Hooves 💚/🩷

Apple Bloom 🧡/🩷

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All/Multiple/No Specific Pairing

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Slenderman

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Splendorman

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Trenderman

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Offenderman

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Zalgo

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Tim/Masky

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Brian/Hoodie

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Ticci Toby

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Rodrigo/Cat Hunter

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Kate the Chaser

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Liam/X-Virus

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Eyeless Jack

Mirror Mirror On The Wall ��

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Ben Drowned

Cybersex 💛

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Dark Link

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Glitchy Red

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Strangled Red

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Herobrine

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Homicidal Liu/Sully

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Jeff the Killer

Turning The Water Red 💛

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Jane the Killer

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Nina the Killer

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Laughing Jack

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Laughing Jill

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Candypop

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Jason the Toymaker

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Nathan the Nobody

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Johnathan/The Puppeteer

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Helen/Bloody Painter

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Dina/Judge Angels

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Natalie/Clockwork

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Kagekao

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Hobo Heart

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Sally Williams

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Minkie Pie

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Inkie Pie

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Blinkie Pie

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Pinkie Pie

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Derpy Hooves

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Apple Bloom

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Polyamorous Fics

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Note: Will only do lesbian fics for Jane the Killer.

[jesuistrestriste]

im so sorry- but i cant help but imagine how cute art would be during his first time. asking you “is this okay?” “does that feel good?” “am i going too fast?” like a thousand times and struggling to hold back his noises from the new sensations hes feeling AH hes so cute. he would def cuddle and make sure to ask if you enjoyed urself after #soconsiderate #artdonaldsonthemanyouare

YES.

he would be SO incredibly considerate <3 always checking in, maybe a bit more than he really needs to, but he's nervous and eager to please.

sure, it's his first time, but he wants to make sure that he makes you feel good. that's priority #1. if he doesn't make you moan earnestly, he would always look back on the memory poorly.. and he doesn't want that.

i whole heartedly think that art is super sensitive (ive said this a million times and ill say it a million more), so he gets close super fast. especially when he loses his virginity. so yeah, he's definitely biting his lip or making out with you when he thrusts so that he can stifle his moans and whines.

i swear it'd take a good ten pumps or less before he's gasping and murmuring rushed little warnings into your ear.

"Ohh, g-god, i'm close, i'm getting really close..!"

"I.. I think I'm gonna—"

and when you just wrap your legs around him and pull him in deeper, he's gone. he'll fill the condom up to the brim with his load, but he'll reach down mid-orgasm and try to rub your parts so that he doesn't come without you.

it took him a bit longer than most to find the person he wanted to lose it to, but when he found you it just all clicked into place.

[fairylights-throughthemist]

Eddie doing this when he’s bored in class

[braxlrose]

i read your tom kaulitz weird and silly headcanons and i can't stop laughing 😭 wtf it's 4 am.. anyway will you do the same headcanons only with bill, pretty please?🤭 i know one hundred percent that this little bastard isn't so innocent what he looks like.. i'm sure he's as dirty as Tom 😭 btw sorry engilsh is not my first language ☠️ Greetings from Poland!!:)

(his skirt is so cute?!?)

Cześć jeszcze raz! Rzadko spotykam Polaków, więc cieszy mnie możliwość ćwiczenia języka polskiego!

also his skirt is super cute omg

silly and weird bill headcanons

cw: mentioned oral(f and m!recieving), making out, nipple play?, etc

-you are completely right, this mf is far from innocent 💀 tom is seen as the dirty minded one but this little shit would make the most dirty fucking jokes every and then act all innocent LIKE BITCH

-he's also passive aggressive. like very passive aggressive. pookie can't help it 😪

-the first time you, him and tom all got high together he got super paranoid and thought that you guys were all just figments of a dog's imagination

-when you guys are spooning, he reaches underneath your shirt and cups your boobs. it helps him fall asleep quicker apparently

-but sometimes when he's feeling like a little shit, he'll tweak and pull at your nipples and you have to slap him away. so then you make him promise not to do it again. spoiler alert. he does it again 😐

-hes an impatient mf so the amount he's burned his tongue after heating up a pop tart 😒 like bitch..just wait the two fucking minutes

-he loves kissing your temple and your forehead

-during the winter, if his hands are cold he asks if he can put his hand in your pants. 💀 like that's his exact words. "Can I put my hand down your pants?" he says it's because you're warmer down there than he is, but I think it's just cuz he's a dirty minded little fuck

-when cooking marshmallows over the fire, it's a 50/50 thing. Sometimes he's super patient and will wait and make his marshmallows a crispy, perfect golden brown color and other times he gets to lazy and will just shove it in the fire.

-he also thinks it's like the coolest thing in the entire world when his whole marshmallow is on fire

-he didn't know how to snap until he was like 16 and always got mad whenever tom could do it 😭

-he was super happy when he realized that he was the taller twin bc tom was allllwayyss talking about how he was 10 minutes older.

-YOU GUYS GOT MATCHING TATTOOS

-he literally loves getting matching tattoos with you, he thinks it's so cute and fucking loves it. somehow he convinced the both of you to get some dumb ones 💀

-when you two were little kids he used to beg the teacher to make you, him and tom partners. lil bro would get down on his knees

-speaking of getting down on his knees, the first time he went down on you he "accidentally" 🤨 bit your clit. I still say he did it on purpose though

-you guys know that thing that Gomez does with Morticia when she reaches her arms to the side and he kisses from her finger tips to the other finger tips? yall know what I'm talking about? WELL BILL DOES THAT

-he likes to sleep naked sometimes. because it's "better for sleeping" but I think it's just because he wants to sleep next to naked you.

-almost drowned tom at the pool 💀...multiple times

-him and tom make you sit by the pool and then make you tell them who's cannon ball was better. and this isn't just a like 16 yr old boy thing. they do this at 33 too.

-bill once stood up upside-down on a keg and drank it 😧. not the whole thing but it was super crazy. you later found out it was because tom didn't think he would do it

-he once jerked off in class and found a way so nobody would notice him EXCEPT YOU 😨 MF YOU WERE TRAUMATIZED

-he also doesn't know how to lock a door. so you'll just walk in and he'll be jerking off, or you'll turn a corner in his house and he'll be jerking off, you go to use the bathroom and he'll be jerking off. "I'm a teenage boy it's what we do!" BRUH GET A HOBBY

-if you don't know german, he'll randomly say dirty stuff to you in german. BUT THEN PROCEED TO GET MAD AT TOM IF HE TEACHES YOU BAD WORDS IN GERMAN 🙄

-he loves sitting in your lap when making out. like obviously he loves it when you sit in his lap, but he LOVES when he gets to sit on top of you and kiss you

-the first time he tried to give you hickies, he wasn't completely sure how to and ended up biting you 💀

-he's not a morning person, we all know this. so if you want to get him out of bed, you will have to drag him out by his feet.

-his dick is big. we all know this, but the first time you tried to give him oral, he accidentally slapped your face w/ his dick 😭

ANYWAYYSSS TY SM FOR THE REQUEST POOKIE I HOPE MY POLNISCH WASNT TOO BAD

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @dead-tapes @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles

[bananielle]

taesan rearranging your guys in the dorm and you crying while he does bc you kept testing his patience by purposely dropping things in front of him, and bending over in front of him so he could see your cute pink underwear!!… except you have to keep quiet because the other members are still messing around in the living room

you knew exactly what you were doing showing up to the dorm dressed in a short, flippy skirt…it’s just so much fun to see taesan get progressively more riled up and eventually need to take it out on you <3

you “accidentally” drop something in the living room for the nth time that, strategically bending over so only taesan can get a peek of your pretty lace panties. he couldn’t believe you had the nerve to act like this in front of the other members. but also. he finds it incredibly hot and it gets more difficult for him to hide his boner and just, you know, contain himself. eventually, he excuses himself saying he doesn’t feel well and you say you’ll follow after him, to check up on him…

as soon as you walk through the door, he’s all over you. he’s extra handsy with you cause he feels super possessive in that moment. taesan is very gentle dom to me, i can’t imagine him being super rough with you. if anything, he’s even more loving than usual (if that’s possible). he’s scooping you off the floor and laying you down on his bed in one swift motion, wasting zero time in taking off your top. kisses and sucks on any piece of skin he can access, wanting to mark you and make sure people know you’re his and his only.

says the filthiest things in your ear as he slides your panties down your legs and then stuffs them in your mouth to keep you quiet. “my pretty baby, so wet for me. you’re practically dripping. can you taste how wet you are, hm?” he says as he pushes your soaked panties further into your mouth. “this is what you wanted isn’t it? for me to fuck you?” he coos softly as he slips his cock through folds with a firm thrust. “i’ll fuck you, pretty, but you need to be quiet”. def lifts your legs over his shoulders and runs his fingers along them softly before pushing deeper into you and giving you a soft kiss to your forehead. fucks you multiple times that night, you need a bit of help walking the next morning <3

[kenmaapplepie]

[everlastingleuthymia]

I love himmmmm , his in thee mood