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angelsfat3 · 5 months ago

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ꮩ, 你伤了我的心。 ⸻[Everything, my everything...]

Summary: "Even if there is another life, I hope I never cross paths with you. You make me sick." It was what you thought as you listened to him talk to his ex.

Genre: suggestive, fluff, against.

C/w: Heeseung being an jerk, confusion of feelings, cheating(?), story written from third person. ㅤ－ㅤTw: Curses, crying, unrequited love, virginity taken.

A/N: I don't even have words for what I wrote... I shed a tear while writing this. I hope you all like it + When “[...]” appears it is an improved version of “y/n”.

If you are interested in knowing more about this story, please read these two: ⒈ ⒉

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[...] was flipping through a history book, his fingers absentmindedly sliding across the yellowed, image-filled pages, dictating to his partner, Jake, important parts which to write down in the notebook. They were in the library, finishing a project for school. The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, bathing the room in a warm golden glow.

"[...]?" Jake broke the silence, his voice soft but firm. "I think we could use this information for the presentation, I mean, to focus the idea from the beginning and attract everyone's attention."

[...] nodded, not really looking at what Jake was pointing at. His mind was elsewhere, lost in memories and emotions that he still couldn't fully understand.

Ever since he had kissed him, everything felt different. He clearly remembered the moment, two weeks ago, when Heeseung had kissed him passionately, mistaking him for Chloe. Later when he went to his house to apologize, an apology that had been clumsy, and although Heeseung had tried to explain that before Chloe, he had had feelings for [...], words had not been enough to heal the wound he had left.

Just then, a tall, thin girl with wavy blonde hair approached them. It was Minjeong, a mutual acquaintance he had with his former best friend, Heeseung.

"Hey guuuuys," she said with a beaming smile. "I'm hosting a party this weekend. Would you like to come?"

[...] took his eyes off the book, looking up, a little surprised. He hadn't expected an invitation to a party, much less from someone related to Heeseung. He looked at Jake, who looked just as bewildered as he was, but then nodded.

"Sure, Min. We'd love to go," Jake replied, trying to keep his tone enthusiastic.

The rest of the week passed quickly, but not without incident. [...] noticed Heeseung's possessive gaze following him through the school hallways several times. Heeseung had once tried to approach him while he was at his locker, but Jake had appeared just in time, grabbing him by the shoulders and leading him to chemistry class.

"Thanks, Jake," [...] murmured, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Jake just nodded, his face serious, clearly determined to keep [...] safe from further confusion and pain.

The day of the party arrived. [...] decided to go to his room after school to change. He was looking for a suitable t-shirt when his friend appeared at the door of his room, spreading his arms as soon as [...] opened the door, making him laugh at how he raised his eyebrows in search of his approval—about the look.

"Do you need help?" Jake asked, with a mischievous smile.

[...] nodded and let Jake rummage through his closet. Finally, the brunette took out a dark blue t-shirt, with some letters and a drawing in the middle of it.

"This one would look good on you," Jake said, extending it to him.

"Thank you very much, my moon," [...] said with a smile, noticing the blush on his friend's ears but deciding not to say anything.

Ethan began to take off the shirt he was wearing, and Jake, seeing Ethan's naked torso, couldn't help but blush brightly. He turned around quickly, pretending to search for something else in the closet to avoid looking at him.

"Okaaay, I like what I see," [...] said with a smile, still noticing the blush on his friend's cheeks after he turned around. [...] put on the shirt Jake had picked out for him and looked in the mirror. "I think we're ready."

As they left the dormitories, night began to fall, covering the campus in a blanket of stars. The two walked along the street-lit path, their shadows lengthening behind them. The night breeze was cool and pleasant, and there was a sense of anticipation in the air.

"I hope the party isn't too loud," [...] commented, adjusting the shirt. "At least... I hope she don't make her neighbors call the police again."

"Meeting Minjeong and Karina when they're drunk, it'll be like last time," Jake replied with a smile and a soft laugh. "But maybe it would do us good to relax a little."

They arrived at the bus stop just in time to see their transport approaching. They climbed in and sat together in the back, watching the city lights flash past the window.

"Are you nervous about seeing Heeseung?" Jake asked, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

[...] shrugged, looking out the window as he thought about everything that had happened. "I don't know, Jake. Part of me wants to talk to him, but another part of me is afraid of what he might say."

Jake slapped him on the thigh. "I'll be with you. You don't have to face it alone."

The bus stopped near Minjeong's house, and the boys got off, grateful for the warm summer night that enveloped them. As they walked towards the house, they could hear the rumbling of the music and laughter coming from inside.

It was almost 9 p.m. when they arrived at the door of Minjeong's house. The party was already in full swing, with people dancing in the room and groups gathered around the drinks table. The colorful lights illuminated the living room, and the atmosphere was electric.

"[...], Jake!" Minjeong greeted them enthusiastically, opening the door for them. "I'm so glad you guys came!"

Minjeong's smile was contagious, and the boys immediately felt welcome. [...] exchanged glances with Jake, who nodded slightly, as if reminding him that he was there for him.

As they walked deeper into the crowd, [...] couldn't help but look for Heeseung, his emotions constantly shifting between hope and fear. He knew that tonight could change everything, and a part of him was ready to face whatever came, while the other wanted to run away.

The music pulsed around them, and [...] tried to relax, taking a drink Jake offered him and allowing himself, at least for a moment, to enjoy the company of his friends.

To tell the truth, he moved through the party with a naturalness that surprised even himself. At first, he had felt the typical tightness in his chest when arriving at a place full of people, but the atmosphere had enveloped him, helping him relax, just as the brunette said. The loud music encouraged him to move, to greet acquaintances and to let himself be carried away by the moment.

With a drink in hand, [...] approached a group of classmates who were talking about a couple of gossips going on on campus. Their laughter and light jokes alleviated the restlessness that had accompanied him since the beginning of the night. Little by little, he felt more in his element, smiling and laughing with an ease he had forgotten he possessed.

Jake, meanwhile, watched [...] from a couch in the middle of the living room. A part of him was happy to see his friend enjoying himself, but another part, smaller but impossible to ignore, He felt a pang as he saw how others also enjoyed his company.

He settled back on the couch, pretending to be more interested in his drink than [...]'s figure. But his eyes betrayed him, searching for him in the crowd, always aware of where he was and who he was talking to. His feelings for [...] were complicated; he loved him more than a friend, but he was also afraid of ruining what they had by trying something else, given the circumstances.

Jake noticed a change in the atmosphere of the party when he saw Heeseung at the edge of his vision, slowly moving towards [...]. The crowd seemed to open up for him, as if fate itself was conspiring to bring them closer. Heeseung had that inscrutable expression that Jake had come to know well, a mix of regret and determination.

As Heeseung approached, Jake felt his heart race, a mix of worry and jealousy coursing through him. He wanted to protect [...] from any further pain, but he also knew that there were issues between [...] and Heeseung that needed to be resolved. Still, a part of him wished that [...] wouldn't fall back into the arms of Heeseung, who had already caused him so much pain.

Finally, Heeseung reached [...], gently touching his arm to get his attention. [...] turned, and when he saw him, his smile faded a little, replaced by an expression of caution.

"[...], can I talk to you?" Heeseung asked, his voice barely audible over the music making him lean closer to one of [...]'s ears.

[...] hesitated for a moment, his gaze briefly meeting Jake's, who offered him an almost imperceptible nod, a reminder that he was there if he needed him.

"Fine.." [...] finally responded, his voice calm but filled with unresolved emotions. He followed Heeseung to a quieter corner of the house, away from the hustle and bustle of the party.

Jake watched them walk away, a feeling of helplessness settling in his chest. He wanted [...] to be happy, even if it meant letting him go with Heeseung. But, for now, all he could do was wait and be ready to offer his support if things didn't go the way his best friend hoped.

In the secluded corner of the house, Heeseung and [...] faced each other, surrounded by the dim light and the murmur of distant music. The tension between them was palpable, and [...] prepared himself for the conversation he knew he needed to have.

"Heeseung, what do you want?" [...] asked, his arms crossed in a defensive posture.

Heeseung swallowed, his eyes searching [...]'s desperately. "I just want you to know how sorry I am, sweetheart. Everything that happened... was a mistake, and I haven't stopped thinking about it."

"It was a mistake that apparently took you a lot to understand," [...] replied, his voice heavy with sadness. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you, or even want to see you."

"I understand," Heeseung nodded, his voice breaking. "But before everything got complicated, you were important to me, more than I wanted to admit. I want to try to fix things, if you let me."

[...] looked at him, his emotions a whirlwind. He remembered all the moments he shared with Heeseung, the good and the bad, and how he had always felt a special connection with him. But he also remembered the pain of hearing Chloe's name leave Heeseung's lips that night.

The way he leaned towards him looking for a trace of her, and the betrayal that had left a scar on his heart.

"I don't know, Heeseung," he finally said, his voice soft but firm. "I can't promise you that I will believe you, that day you made it clear that you are very good at lying."

Heeseung looked at Ethan with a mix of nervousness, fear, and determination. "We can go to a quieter room to talk better, the music is too loud," he suggested, his voice barely audible.

[...] nodded, although something inside him was hesitant. However, his curiosity and the need to close that chapter prompted him to follow Heeseung up the stairs to the second floor of the house. They passed through a narrow hallway before stopping in front of a half-open door. Heeseung gently pushed it away, revealing a small but cozy room.

Inside, the party music was just a distant murmur, providing a much more intimate setting for the conversation to come. Heeseung closed the door behind them and turned to [...], his expression a reflection of the internal struggle he felt.

"Hee, why are we really here?" [...] asked, crossing his arms in a defensive gesture. "Why did you want to talk now?"

Heeseung took a deep breath, his eyes meeting [...]'s with an intensity that made him shudder. "I needed to explain to you, [...]. I needed to tell you why I kissed you that time, and why it meant so much to me... It still sounds like a lie."

[...] kept his gaze fixed on Heeseung, his heart pounding. "Then speak," he said, his voice shaky but firm.

Heeseung took a step forward, the closeness between them increasing the tension in the air. "The first time I kissed you, yes, I did it thinking about Chloe. But the instant our lips touched, I knew there was something more. The way you kissed me, [...], was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. More real, more authentic."

[...] watched him, his expression cautious as he processed each word. "And Chloe?" he asked, remembering the pain of hearing the ex-girlfriend's name.

"Chloe was important to me, but I realized that I was clinging to an idealized image of what we had, of something that will never happen again," Heeseung confessed. "When I kissed you, I realized that what I really wanted was to be with you, [...]. It took me a while to admit it, but in the end, it was you I wanted in the first place."

As Heeseung spoke, he slowly approached [...], his hands rising to rest gently on [...]'s waist. The boy's eyes shone with a mixture of surprise and suppressed excitement, but also with a lingering fear of being hurt again.

In the hallway, just outside the room, Jake stood listening to the conversation, his heart heavy with the mix of emotions that overwhelmed him. He had followed [...] and Heeseung out of an impulse that he couldn't ignore, and now, the words he heard left him on the verge of despair.

Watching Heeseung approach [...], touching him with a familiarity that Jake wanted for himself, was like a stab. Jealousy burned inside him, mixed with deep sadness.

He knew that his love for [...] was stronger than he had admitted, and seeing Heeseung about to kiss [...] again was a painful reminder of his own position, of his cowardice for wanting to wait for "the right moment" to be honest with him.

Jake couldn't take it anymore. When he saw Heeseung lean in to kiss [...], he stepped back, feeling the world around you crumble. He couldn't stand there, watching a moment he wanted more than anything unfold.

As he walked down the stairs, the music and laughter of the party seemed dull compared to the tumult in his chest. Before leaving the house, Minjeong stopped him, grabbing his wrist, noticing his disturbed expression.

"Jake, are you leaving already? It hasn't been long since you and [...] arrived..." Minjeong said, her tone worried.

Jake forced a smile, trying to hide his true feelings. "Yes... I think it's better for me to go. I think a punch made me sick and I feel like vomiting."

Minjeong looked at him with understanding, although without knowing the real reason behind his leaving, Jake wasn't the best at lying. "Well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me, okay? I was glad to see you here."

"Thanks, Min," Jake replied, before quickly walking out the front door.

The walk back to [...]'s bedroom was a blur for Jake. Each step seemed heavier than the last, and his mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Upon reaching the bedroom, he had unconsciously fallen into [...]'s bed, the place that offered him a small comfort in the midst of his anguish.

Tears began to fall as he buried his face in [...]'s pillow, allowing the sadness and frustration to release. It was a bitter comfort, knowing that his feelings for [...] were real but not reciprocated in the way he wanted.

Despite everything, Jake hoped that [...] would come back, that he would see what he really meant to him. With that thought, he fell asleep through tears, longing for a future where their love was not a secret, but a shared reality.

On the other hand.

In the room, the air was thick with tension and expectation. Heeseung and [...] were alone, with only the soft hum of the party in the background. The closeness between them seemed to intensify every small gesture, every look.

Heeseung approached slowly, his eyes locked on [...]'s. There was a vulnerability in his expression that the boy had not seen before, as if all the barriers Heeseung had built had vanished in that moment.

"[...]," Heeseung whispered, his voice filled with emotion and regret. "I'm really sorry for everything I put you through."

[...], still feeling the weight of Heeseung's words, found himself torn between the pain of the past and the possibility of a new beginning. His emotions were a whirlwind, but there was a part of him that wanted to let go of the pain and find something real with Heeseung.

Heeseung raised a hand, gently placing his fingers on [...]'s cheek, tracing a tender path along his skin. [...] didn't pull back, instead he closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to feel the warmth of Heeseung's touch.

"I've missed you, prince," Heeseung confessed, his words barely a whisper as he leaned forward, almost brushing his lips against each other's.

[...] opened his eyes, finding Heeseung's just inches away. Time seemed to stop as they both immersed themselves in the moment. With silent decision, [...] closed the distance between them, his lips meeting Heeseung's in a slow, gentle kiss.

The kiss was a delicate touch at first, a cautious, fearful exploration. But the built-up tension and unexpressed feelings quickly transformed it into something deeper and more urgent. Heeseung's lips moved against [...]'s with a fervent intensity, as if they were trying to convey everything that words couldn't express.

[...] responded in kind, his hands finding their way to Heeseung's hair, pulling gently, allowing himself to fall into the intimacy of the moment. It was as if every touch, every whisper between them undid the pain of the past, replacing it with something warm and new, something pure.

Heeseung wrapped his arms around [...], pulling him closer, as if afraid the moment would fade. The heat of their bodies melted into a palpable connection, and with each shared kiss, the barrier between them crumbled a little more.

[...] found himself backing away, his legs finding the edge of the bed. They sat, their lips still joined, gently exploring each other's every curve and corner. Heeseung let his hands wander, tracing a path down [...]'s back, exploring the familiarity of the body he had missed so much.

The outside world faded away, leaving only the soft intimacy between them. Heeseung, feeling the weight of the moment, paused, pulling away just enough to look [...] in the eyes.

"Are you sure of this?" Heeseung asked, his voice soft but serious. There was a sincere desire to make sure this was what they both wanted.

[...], breathing slightly hard, nodded, his eyes shining with a mix of determination and longing. "Yes, I'm sure, with you I will always be willing to do anything."

With that permission, Heeseung continued, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time with a tenderness that said more than any passionate statement. His hands moved carefully, gently guiding them to a more comfortable position on the bed.

Clothes were set aside with deliberate care, as if each piece removed was one step closer to the truth of who they were to each other. Their bodies met, skin against skin, sharing warmth and silent promises.

The atmosphere was filled with a mixture of longing and nervousness. While their lips remained united in a deep kiss, [...] felt the outside world fade away, leaving them alone in their little shared universe. A bubble.

Heeseung, with an almost reverent tenderness, began to let his lips wander past [...]'s mouth. With each kiss, he traced a slow, passionate path along his jawline and down to his neck. [...] let out a soft sigh, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the new caresses and sensations that Heeseung caused him.

Heeseung's kisses were like delicate flames, lighting up every part of [...]'s body they touched. They ran down his neck, leaving a trail of heat that made [...] shiver. When Heeseung's lips reached his collarbone, [...] let out a small moan, surprised by the intensity of the desire he felt.

Heeseung smiled against his boy's skin, enjoying the power of each touch. "I want you so bad, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse and charged with emotion. There was a fervor in his words that left the other boy breathless.

[...] opened his eyes, meeting the burning gaze of Heeseung, who was watching him with a mix of adoration and desire. "Me too," [...] replied, his voice barely above a murmur as his heart pounded in his chest.

Carefully, Heeseung continued to explore [...]'s body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down his chest and stomach. Each touch was a reminder of the deep connection they shared, of how much they had both longed for this moment.

[...] found himself panting, his back arching as the caresses intensified, his breathing quickening as Heeseung continued his stroke. It was a mix of desire and vulnerability, knowing that he was giving up a part of himself that he had never shared with anyone.

When their lips finally met again, it was as if the world had disappeared, leaving only the warmth and passion they shared. [...]'s moans mixed with Heeseung's, creating a soft symphony that filled the room.

As the passion between them grew, [...] allowed himself to get lost in the moment, letting go of all doubts and fears. With each touch, he felt the pain of the past fade away, replaced by a deep, authentic connection.

Heeseung, feeling the boy's complete surrender, hugged him tightly, their bodies fitting perfectly as if they had been made for each other. "You're so... fuck, tight. You're all I need," Heeseung murmured against [...]'s lips, his voice full of sincerity.

[...] looked into his eyes, seeing in them a truth that filled him with hope. "And you are everything I've ever wanted," he replied, allowing their lips to meet once more in a kiss that was both sweet and passionate.

As the night wore on, they gave themselves completely to each other, their bodies and hearts intertwined in an intimate dance that was both a discovery and a reaffirmation of what they truly meant to each other. It was a moment of purity and connection, where passion and love were in perfect harmony.

Thus... in the refuge of that room, Ethan and Heeseung found a new beginning, a place where his fears and doubts faded away, leaving only the promise of what could be.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

The next morning.

Heeseung woke up early, the morning light softly illuminating the room. There was a serenity in the air, a calm respite after the storm of emotions that had occurred the night before. Beside him, [...] was sleeping soundly, face down, with the sheet barely covering his hips. Heeseung smiled as he looked at [...]'s relaxed figure, admiring the curve of his back and the softness of his skin.

Carefully, Heeseung let his fingers roam over [...]'s bare torso, slowly tracing the contours of his skin, remembering how that same skin had felt under his hands the night before. There was a peace in the gesture, a tranquility that made him feel complete, like everything was finally in its place.

[...] began to wake up, his senses taking in Heeseung's gentle caresses. A lazy smile appeared on his lips as he kept his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth and affection emanating from his lover's fingers. He stretched slightly, his muscles relaxing, preparing to turn and meet Heeseung's face.

But just as he was about to do so, a voice interrupted the stillness of the morning. It was Heeseung's voice, speaking in a low tone to someone on the phone. [...]'s curiosity was piqued, and he decided to stay in his position, pretending to be still asleep while listening to the conversation.

"Chloe, you know how much I miss you," Heeseung said, his voice thick with emotion and nostalgia. "You don't know how much I wish things were different."

Heeseung's words fell on [...] like an icy wave. His body, which minutes before had felt warm and relaxed, began to tremble, first with surprise, then with rage. He felt his heart constrict, each word piercing his skin like swords of boiling silver stabbing into his back.

"I went to the party last night expecting to see you... but instead I got a big surprise" Heeseung continued, not realizing the damage he was causing. "I still think about you all the time, you just drive me crazy."

The feeling of betrayal washed over [...], and the pain was so intense he could barely breathe. The night before, the surrender, the vulnerability he'd shared with Heeseung, it all felt like a monumental mistake.

He regretted having slept with him, feeling exposed and cheated. Every word that came out of Heeseung's mouth hit him hard, filling him with a bitterness he had never experienced before.

Tears began to fill his eyes, blurring his vision as he struggled to maintain control and silence. He felt small and dirty, as if everything he had meant to Heeseung the night before was nothing more than a cruel illusion, again he felt like an object, a sexual one. The love he thought he had shared had turned into bitter mockery, and the pain he felt now was indescribable.

[...] could imagine Heeseung's face, smiling into the phone while he was probably looking for a way to hide him. That girl's voice, her laugh, everything about her caused you rejection. Why she? Why couldn't he stop last night? Was there such a need to get excited again?

Finally, he heard the click of the phone being hung up and felt Heeseung roll over in bed, facing away from him. That was his moment. Heartbroken and his emotions overflowing, [...] carefully stood up, trying not to make a sound as he quickly dressed. Every movement was an effort, as if his body was resisting accepting the truth.

He managed to leave the room without being noticed, his hurried steps taking him away from the source of his pain. He ran, not stopping until he reached the safety of his own bedroom.

When he walked in, the first thing he saw was Jake, who was asleep in his bed. But the sound of the door closing woke him up, Jake quickly sat up, his expression changing as he saw the anguish on [...]'s face.

"[...]," Jake said, his voice filled with concern as he stood up to go over to him.

Ethan couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed to the ground, tears flowing uncontrollably as he sobbed with a despair that shook him completely. Jake rushed to his side, kneeling to hug him tightly.

"What happened, my sun?" Jake whispered, wrapping [...] in a warm, protective hug. His lips rested on [...]'s head in a gesture of comfort, gently kissing that area.

[...] clung to Jake, hiding in the shelter of his neck as the tears continued to fall. He felt like his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces, each one a reminder of the unrequited love he had given to Heeseung. The pain was so intense that it seemed like a physical force, a tightness in his chest that left him breathless.

"I loved him more than anything in the world," [...] said between sobs, his voice shaking with pain and rage. "Why did he have to do this to me?" he shouted between cries.

Jake held him tighter, his own emotions stirring at seeing [...] so broken. "I don't know, [...]. I don't know," Jake replied, his voice soft but firm as he tried to offer him much-needed comfort.

[...] sobbed in Jake's arms, his body shaking with each ragged breath. Jake held him firmly, gently stroking his back, trying to calm him down. Time seemed to stand still while [...] vented, but Jake knew they needed to talk about what had happened.

When [...]'s sobs began to subside, Jake pulled back slightly, just enough so he could look him in the eyes. [...]'s were reddened and filled with a sadness so deep it broke his heart.

"[...]," Jake said softly, choosing his words carefully, "what exactly happened?"

[...] inhaled deeply, trying to put the words together as he felt his chest tighten again at the memory. "Last night," he began, his voice shaking a little, "Heeseung and I…we were together. I was so stupid. I thought there was something more, that he really cared about me."

[...]'s words were an echo of his most painful thoughts, and as he spoke, he felt exposed and vulnerable. It was as if every word he said opened an even deeper wound.

Jake felt a pang in his chest as he heard the confession. His heart sank as he imagined [...] and Heeseung together, beyond a relationship or a kiss, together, in bed, sharing sighs and promises. The image filling his mind with a mixture of sadness, jealousy and anger. How could someone be stupid enough to hurt him.

Although he had witnessed their connection at the party, hearing it from [...] was an unexpected blow, a reminder that her own feelings for Ethan were, for now, an unrequited love.

Despite the sadness that washed over him, Jake knew that his pain wasn't what mattered right now. It was [...] who needed comfort, who needed to feel loved and supported. So he suppressed his own feelings and focused on [...], on being the friend he had always been...

"Hey," Jake said, his voice soft and comforting as he placed a hand on [...]'s cheek, wiping away a tear that was still glistening. "You're not stupid. You went with what you felt, and that's brave, not stupid."

[...] looked at Jake, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and pain. "But I was wrong about him, Jake. He used me…he's still in love with Chloe."

Jake nodded, understanding the weight of betrayal [...] felt. "So? Heeseung just doesn't know how to appreciate what's in front of him," Jake said firmly. "But don't let his mistake make you feel less. You are an amazing person, [...]. You deserve someone who values you completely, you deserve to be loved."

Jake continued to caress his arm, his fingers moving in small comforting circles. "I know this hurts now, and it probably will for a while. But I'll be here, by your side, no matter what happens."

[...] nodded slowly, absorbing Jake's words, allowing himself to feel a small relief at his loyalty and unwavering affection. "Thank you, Jakey. I don't know what I would do without you," he murmured, his voice thick with gratitude.

Jake smiled, trying to instill some hope in [...]. "You don't have to worry about that, because I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, I'll always be there for you, my moon."

Ethan leaned into Jake, allowing himself to rest in his embrace, finding comfort in the certainty of his friendship... yeah. He felt that even though his heart was broken, there was a light in the darkness, a hand that held him when he needed it most.

As the sun moved across the sky, filling the room with its warm light, Jake and [...] stood there, side by side. [...]'s wounds would take time to heal, but with Jake by his side, he knew he would find the strength to keep going, one day at a time.

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

메모 ! 📌ㅤ⸻ㅤ I won't lie, I was mostly inspired by the song Margaret (lana del rey) and like I said in my other account, I would make you suffer.

아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

ㅤㅤ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara.

#enhypen x male reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #heeseung x male reader #jake x male reader #heeseung #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨𝘧𝘢𝘵3ㅤ﹟ㅤ𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽.#enhypen jake #enhypen scenarios #x male smut #male reader

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t-annuki · 1 month ago

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👀

So, i'm starting to learn 3d sculpture and i started by doing the main character of one of my projects.

#original character #artists on tumblr #dark art #dark fantasy #original art #zbrush #3d art #omg #guuuuys look at this #SoundCloud

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sugoi-writes · 9 months ago

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Hi! I saw your request open. May I request a fiance!alastor x charlie's older sister!fiance!reader, they're in a secret realtionship. During episode 5, lucifer arrives, alastor and lucifer having some sort of beef and some time later either Y/N or Alastor reveals their engagement, really pure fluff

I hope you don't mind how long this took. I'm still a bit rusty when it comes to fluff, I feel. I threw a little angst and inner-Alastor thoughts just to round this out!! No particular warnings past some cursing and bickering old men... please enjoy!

You felt your phone buzzing in your pocket, alarmed when you saw your sister's name flash across your screen. Charlie's name blared at you in glittery, golden font, as Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow bounced around your room bombastically. She had only called you when absolutely necessary. This couldn't be good...

You hastily picked up your phone, your jaw nearly hitting the floor as Charlie rambled about her predicament. You cut her off, pulling on your cardigan quickly," Don't move-- I'm on the way right now!!!" You nearly blew your apartment door off its hinges, trudging quickly downstairs. You pull your phone back up to your ear, quickly calling for a cab. If half of what Charlie spouted was true... she would need some support. As would Alastor... Quickly.

You took off briskly towards the Hazbin Hotel, hoping you would make it over before Lucifer, your father, had gotten there.

---

You were practically sprinting up the stairs as you left the cab, heart racing. If you knew anything, Charlie would be nervous and unable to convince your dad of change. If you knew anything about Alastor... you knew how much he secretly envied the power that Lucifer harbored. If he wasn't careful, said one wrong thing... he'd be exorcized in a heartbeat. You slam the hotel doors open, panting as all eyes in the room turned towards you. Charlie sighed, seemingly relieved.

"H-Hey there!!! Guuuuys, you've all met my sister, right? Right?" You saw Alastor at eye-level with Lucifer, stooping down to his height. They both looked positively FURIOUS with the other. But when Charlie had made mention of you, both men's gazes flew to you. Lucifer blinked a few times, taking small steps towards you," Y-You... you're here, too?" The King of the Hells looked absolutely shocked, a wide, prideful smile plastering across his face soon after," My oldest, my little duckling, it's so good to see y--"

Alastor hip-bumped Lucifer out of the way and onto his ass, making wide, deliberate strides towards you.

"My darling, mon cher!!! What a wonderful surprise! What brings you here this fine evening?" Alastor was looking between you, Charlie, and Lucifer as his mind raced. The dots were starting to connect.... He knew that you were estranged from both your parents and a younger sibling... bur now, he finalized realized that they just so happened to be Hell Royalty. THE Monarchy with a capital M. He should have seen the similarities... but: this was something he could use to his advantage. Something that made this position here in the hotel all the more concrete.

You chuckled as Alastor greeted you, taking your hand into his own before bringing it to his lips. Eyes and mouths hung wide open as all took in the sight of Alastor putting his lips to something the he didn't murder. Lucifer saw red, launching himself back onto his feet.

"What's the meaning of this? Okay, honey, sweetie-- you KNOW this shitshow???" Lucifer laughed nervously, mirroring Charlie's nervous energy as he rubbed his hands together, attempting to calm himself. His horns had nearly sprouted from his scalp," Duckyyyy...," Lucifer warned," Please tell I'm not seeing what I THINK I'm seeing." Alastor's shit eating grin was very telling, and impossibly wide as he spun you in a quick circle.

"Oh my Hells! Don't tell me, cher... you haven't told your own sister and father about us~?" Alastor teased, a hand clutching his chest in feigned injury," You wound me!"

You did your best not to laugh, gently nudging Alastor off of you," Well, I did tell you that I didnt-- Well, that we don't really see each other much anymore." You gaze at your father, having to look down towards him due to the height difference," Or, eye to eye, for that matter."

Alastor erupted into a laughing fit, both hands on your shoulders as he spun you around," Well, that certainly makes sense now!!! What a revelation!"

Lucifer fumed, barely avoiding biting his bottom lip off. Charlie blinked as she took everything in, eyes widening," So-- so THIS is your boyfriend you were telling me about! Riiiiiigggghhht..." Charlie clasps her hands together, mirroring her father. Her teeth were gritting slightly, as she concluded under her breath," Actually, that makes a LOT of sense, in retrospect--"

You flush even brighter, left hand ducking behind your back," Y-Y-- YEAH! Pffft! Just my boyfriend!" You fumble nervously as you continue," Charlie, remember? I told you about Al: tall, dark, handsome? Old fashioned? The cute little ears~?"

That sentiment surely wasnt shared by anyone else in the room... Angel scoffs as you were able to play with the Radio Demon's ears, the man in question seemingly unphased by your touch.

"Ugh!! Great! She can say it, but when I do, I nearly get eaten alive!!! What gives???"

Alastor was quickly losing his footing in this situation: he had to think fast. He is quick to seize your left wrist, pulling it back out to reveal a small, golden band enveloping your ring finger," I believe the term 'boyfriend' is a bit dated, even for us, isn't it?" Alastor bestows a kiss to your cheek, shocking even you, as he sends Lucifer a shit eating grin. This wasn't exactly the way you planned to tell everyone... but two of the three people in your little family were here, so you might as well make this count...

"No, I think betrothed is much more fitting, don't you~?"

Collective gasps about the room.

"You two are WHAT--?!?!?" screamed Lucifer.

"OH! OH!! IS SHE A BAD GIRL, SIR?!?!?" squealed Niffty as she jumped in place.

"...is she fucking HIGH--??" Husk asked accusingly.

Lucifer and Charlie both look to each other, than back to you, both feeling mixed emotions. Charlie is quick on the uptake, arms wide and welcoming," Ohh gosh, Alastor already felt like family since coming to this hotel!"

Charlie was doing her best to keep the piece, not wanting to lose the Hotel's Manager and her father in one blow," Th-this is great!! Im-- I'm SO happy for you two!" Charlie initiates a hug, squeezing both you and Alastor in a year's grip. Both yours and Alastor's hands instinctively go to pat Charlie on the head, making you flush again as you brush against each other. Alastor gives you a knowing, sweet smile, completing his end of the gesture.

" Oh Charlie, that is perhaps the nicest thing I've heard since coming to Hell~ I say, it almost makes a tear come to my eye!" Alastor pulls away and taps at his eye dramatically with his handkerchief, as you and Charlie continue to hug. Lucifer feels frozen in place, unable to act. If he makes a scene, he may scare you off or lose you again... if he doesn't make a scene now, then Alastor has a foothold that cements him further into this place. He was closer to not one, but BOTH of his daughters.... Lucifer decides its a risk worth taking, clapping his hands together. Maybe he could get rid of this deer carcass soon enough.

Lucifer takes bold steps forward, a jovial grin on his face," W-Well, of course! Charlie is right, anything for my little girl! Princesses deserve the entire world!" In a twist that catches everyone by surprise, he takes Alastor's hand in a firm handshake, his grip tighter than a boa constrictor. His forked tongue flicks and flares as he speaks directly to Alastor.

"...And you intend to give my little girl the WORLD...," he sneers, his voice deepening," ...Don't you?"

Alastor can barely hide the wince he makes as he shakes Luci's hand back, wide toothed grin straining," B-But of course!!! Who would I be to deny such a wonderful woman?"

Charlie's eyes well up with tears, the handshake convincing her that this was water under the bridge. You pipe up, placing a hand on both mens' chest to seperate them," W-Well, I think we should celebrate! Why don't we have some dinner, hmm? Perfect time to talk things over, get a tour of the hotel, AND work on how to help Charlie from here... right, Dad?"

You send Lucifer a warning gaze, one that instantly has him melting. He couldn't deny your request, even if you had a stake in his heart....

"Sounds like a great idea! Id LOVE to know how this freEAAA--king man managed to meet both of my daughters! I'll make pancakes!!!" Alastor throttles Lucifer, waving him off dismissively," Oh nonsense! Niffty and I already have things covered... why don't we all meet in the dining hall? My mother's recipe for Jambalya is absolutely to DIE for!"

Niffty practically vibrates as she starts barreling down the hall," I'll get the plates!!! The plates!!!"

Angel's stomach growls, his hands flying to cover himself," Actually... some food doesn't sound too bad right now. I'm down for some Louisiana spice before work~" Angel slinks down the hall behind Niffty, eager to chow down. Vaggie slowly takes Charlie's hand, looking to the two newest guests," Right... Lucifer, sir, and uhh..."

You politely give Vaggie your name, making her relax," Right... just follow us this way. We can work on that tour after some food."

Both you and Charlie were absolutely beaming, gawking over your engagement band, while Alastor and Lucifer kept respectable distances from one another. Today would be one full of reunions... and maybe a fist fight or two.

But Alastor was more than keen to play. This had been the most entertaining stunt pulled by this hotel yet... and he couldn't wait to see what sort of Morningstar drama he could exploit... but for now, he graciously let you cling to his arm, escorting you and the other misfits down the hall while humming a tune.

To the outside world, the two of you were perfectly balanced, opposites-attract peas in a pod... and, as far as you knew, they weren't exactly wrong.

#alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfictions #alastor radio demon #radio demon hazbin hotel #sorry for the delay i just DECENTLY struggled to make this prompt entertaining... might make a part two just to do it better justice #hdusbsjsj

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ckret2 · 5 months ago

Note

How do you feel about

Canon Baby Bill?

His itty baby squeaky Velcro baseball shoooes 💛💛💛 here comes a special triangle awww look at him the wittle guuuuy awwwwww his sides are so squishyyy

#redactedtimes #ask #the book of bill #the book of bill spoilers #spoilers

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mlqueen89 · 26 days ago

Note

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

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#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector smut #moon knight smut #marvel smut #november prompts #pumpkin pie #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac smut #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #moon knight x reader #smut #moon boys x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant #steven grant smut

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