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projectionistwrites · 1 year

Note

moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)

You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)

imploding the mirage — the killers

i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.

The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.

So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.

He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.

Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.

He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.

He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.

“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”

Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—

“Jesus Christ!”

You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.

“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.

He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.

You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.

You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.

“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.

“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”

You frowned.

“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.

“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.

“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”

Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.

“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”

Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.

“Of course Steven made you.”

A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him—ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?

You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own naïveté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”

You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.

She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.

Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, Marc.”

She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.

“Shit, I—sorry.”

You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.

You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.

He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.

“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.

Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.

“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”

She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.

“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”

She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”

He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.

You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.

You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.

You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.

You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.

Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.

“No.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.

“What?”

Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.

“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”

The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”

That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.

“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”

Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.

You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”

You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.

Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.

“But what about how you feel?”

His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”

Anger flared within you.

“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”

Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.

“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”

“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”

You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.

Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”

You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.

“What if he breaks my heart?”

He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”

The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.

She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.

He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.

“G’mornin’, darling.”

He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.

“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”

She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.

“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”

She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.

“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”

“G’mornin’, darling.”

The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

“Steven! Shit!”

You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.

“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”

You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”

You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.

“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”

There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.

Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.

He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.

“There we are—good as new.”

He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...

Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.

“Bon apétit.”

You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.

“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”

He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.

You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.

“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”

He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.

“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”

He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”

You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.

“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”

“Yes.”

You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.

“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”

She’s lying.

Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.

And how do you know that?

Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.

What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?

Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’

But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.

He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.

“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”

You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.

Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.

You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”

There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.

The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.

He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—

Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?

Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.

Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?

You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.

You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.

hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x

It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.

What if this was from his latest mission?

It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.

You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.

“Where is it?”

A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.

“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”

To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.

“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”

He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.

“I just wasn’t alone.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.

“Looking for this?”

She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.

Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.

When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.

“Thanks.”

Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.

Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.

“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.

“Marc. I mean it.”

He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.

“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”

Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ivory beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.

Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.

“Wake up, little star.”

Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.

“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—

“Wake up!”

With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.

When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.

He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.

“Marc?”

You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.

“Drink.”

He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.

“I—what happened?”

You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

“What do you remember?”

He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—

“Was I kidnapped?”

You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.

“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”

He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”

His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.

“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.

“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”

“Stop!”

He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.

“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.

“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.

“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”

His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.

“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”

You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.

“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.

“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”

“See you?”

He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.

“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”

You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.

“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because—because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”

Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.

“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”

His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.

“I—what?”

“I—”

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”

He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.

“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.

“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”

Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.

“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”

“I know.”

He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.

“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.

“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.

“I know.”

It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.

“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”

You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”

Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”

“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”

You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.

“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.

“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”

“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”

You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”

His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.

“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”

You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.

“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s just not true.”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”

She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.

You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—

“Sorry.”

You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”

It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.

He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.

When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.

“Wait—wait.”

You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.

“I just—”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”

He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.

“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”

You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.

When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.

“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”

You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.

You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.

“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”

You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.

“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.

He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.

The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.

“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”

You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.

“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”

He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.

“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.

“You want my cum, baby?”

You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.

He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.

You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.

It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”

Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.

“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”

Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.

“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.

“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”

Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.

“Told you so.”

Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.

You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.

“And you called me estrellita.”

You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.

“Estrellita?”

He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”

You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.

“He fucking what?”

Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?

Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.

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odue-sp · 1 year

Text

Male Reader x Seth

M/n is a god. M/n is his fake name but is most known as Khonshu. Instead of a falcon like in the mythology, I decided to let him have a crow.

Also, if you haven't read ennead it won't make sense. Also in Egypt mythology it's all incest. Don't come for me. I didn't tell the gods to fuck their siblings now did I?

There is no ennead fics. And Khonshu. So, bam. M/n is Khonshu, Khonshu is M/n. Related, yes. But great content, yes.

You don't like it. Do not read.

Okay? Nice. Continue.

Seth had managed to escape from Horus and that foreigner, Horus had taken him to the temple of Isis but he left feeling sick of the destruction he caused. The consequences were sickening to see. He continued to walk aimlessly in the desert. He prayed for the only god he could rely on at the moment. Someone he didn't expect to answer such prayers.

Seth dropped onto the sand, he grew tired and weak. Had he finally let this damned human body break? He deserved it but he couldn't help but feel angered. His hands gripped the sand before the showing of wings flapped. "Uncle!" Horus shifted back and went to take him to heal.

The sound of a crow filled the silence of Seth's refusal.

"Khonshu," Seth spoke breathlessly, Horus stared in shock, Khonshu never appeared. Everyone had thought he died or no longer cared for his family. Seth's eyes stared at the e/c eyes, a familiar feeling spread in his body before seeing the forgotten god walk over to him... The moon was full.

The moonlight showed off his s/c smooth and healthy looking skin. He lowered himself to Seth. "Seth," he smiled behind the crow mask. "As always, you look wonderful under the moon." Horus looked annoyed before Seth clung to the man. "Take me away," M/n flinched in surprise, he didn't expect anyone to use his chosen name... "I've had enough of this. Please, take me to the moon! Anywhere where he can't get me!"

"Grand nephew," he spoke carefully reaching for him but Horus grabbed his hand. "Stay away from him." His eye twitches from underneath the mask. "Do you not realize where you stand, child? I protect those who walk the desert at night. You seem to be a god, Seth," he glanced at the tired man. "Isn't a god no longer. A human. You have no privilege here during this time."

M/n snapped his fingers, Horus eyes widened feeling his jody stiffen up. He could move but slowly. "Seth, are you hurt?" His voice was calm and soft as he coddled the body close. "Just take me away from Osiris. He took everything..." He spoke before falling asleep. "Of course, grand nephew."

"Uncle!" Horus shouted as crows flicked around the two. "There is a place no one can touch. You haven't been there since you were young. I hope the moon can help you rest." The sand grabbed onto Horus sinking further down as they left.

•••

Seth woke up with a gasp. His hands tracking over his body, he was still alive... "Khonshu!" He shouted stumbling out of the bed before staring at the scenery... "The moon?" He spoke in disbelief, the moon was always there... He should've known that M/n was still alive. He should've asked for help sooner. "Seth?" He glanced over to the male who tilted his head a bit. "Your body is human, you should eat." He walked over to the red head, handing him a plate of vegetables and fruit with a soft smile.

Seth stared. "You're really alive."

Head tilt. "Yes? The moon is still here, is it not?"

Seth couldn't help but feel anger and he touched the god into the stomach with all of his strength. M/n toppled over, but Seth grabbed the food and walked to the side. "Did you not think to show up to the meetings?!" A confused look... "Take your mask off! I can't see your face!"

He took off his crow mask and frowned. "Meetings? I wasn't aware of such things," he gasped covering his mouth. "Did you guys forget me?" He almost hurt. "Ah... I want to destroy the moon and flood the world. How fucking hilarious." His mood shifted. "If you didn't know if I was dead then why did none of you come and check? Pieces of shit." Seth became angered. "You said no one could visit without permission!" M/n gaped in shock.

"I didn't think you all would listen! My siblings never do! For once they respect my personal space?! Wow, how kind!" He shouted annoyed about being forgotten. "Don't blame us! Do you know how serious you looked!?"

The two went silent.

"Nephew, have you been well?"

"Don't ask such a stupid question, you know. You're the moon after all."

M/n knew. He always knew. He closed his eyes. "You're safe here."

Seth stared at the salad.

"Thank you."

•

You thought you were getting smut?

Haha, no.

I ain't gonna give it to you so easily especially with ENNEAD.

I adore Seth. Love him. You're definitely going to see more of ENNEAD fic and probably more manhwa whenever I feel extra confident. Hehe.

Anubis might be next. Who knows.

I'm going to sleep. Night.

#seth ennead #male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #male y/n #pseudo's ff #seudo's ff #ennead #ennead x male reader #seth ennead x male reader

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mylifeisfruk4ever · 2 years

Text

Raising Kore part 3

Part 1 - Part 2

The healer was a woman named Tasherit, delicate hands but sharp tongue. She touched Horus with care, but the care she would have used for any of her patients, whispering under her breath about the unconsciousness of youngling.

Horus was technically the Pharaoh (very, very technically) and would have had every right to make her pay the offense.

Okay, he made a mistake. Several mistakes, actually. But Tasherit was only a mortal, and a commoner too. She had no right to tell him what to do or scold him.

But Horus didn't want to. Partly because he knew Seth was going to stop him before he even tried, convincing him that he was worse than Ra in terms of temper. And on the other, precisely because he did not want to be like Ra. He had heard the stories about how she, in the last period of her reing, had become unpredictable, a pharaoh to be feared because one moment she smiled and was kind, the next moment she sent Sekmeth to exterminate a city because she was bored.

Ra held power with fear. Osiris with strong but benevolent guidance. It didn't take a genius to figure out who the Egyptians loved most.

"Kore's intervention was timely. - Tasherit said, after finishing bandaging the leg of the young god. - It slowed the poison. The divine Horus will not lose his leg. "

"So, won’t Birdie die?" Kore asked with a bright gaze, and Horus wondered why she cared so much about him when he had kidnapped her and nearly had her killed.

Seth's expression didn't change, his lips tightened in a thin line as he said, "Unfortunately, no."

"Uncle, I ..."

Seth cut him off, “Save the apologies. You did something reckless and dangerous. What would have happened if there had been more giant scorpions? Only one was enough to do this to you. "

It was embarrassing to admit that yes, Horus had fared worse than he expected. He should have been a warrior, he had been trained from an early age in the arts of war.

His tutors had praised him for his skills. Unnecessary praise, Horus in a real battlefield had been mediocre at best. How did he think he could face Isis and her (possible) allies in these conditions?

He wasn't a wizard, he wasn't an exceptional warrior, he was a spoiled prince who had never fought for anything in his life.

He needed Seth, and if his uncle continues to refuse to help him, Horus will never take back the throne.

“Dad, don't be so mean to birdies. He helped me."

Seth snorted, "He put you in danger first for his brilliant idea."

“He didn't want to do it. Isn't that right, birdie? "

Horus nodded stiffly, not trusting his voice. He certainly couldn't tell her eh I just wanted to take you to my nearest temple and force your father to help me.

It wouldn't have made a good impression on him.

He paused to observe the little girl's red hair. His aunt Nephthys used to say that her husband's hair was as red as the setting sun. Kore's were a deeper red.

Horus had assumed that his uncle had decided to take her into his custody because of Kore's strong magic. Now he doubted it. Maybe she was really his daughter.

But his aunt had never talked about her, not even when she mentioned her husband's exile.

Did it mean that the mother was another goddess? Maybe a mortal?

It didn't seem right, not when he had heard stories about how much Seth loved Nephthys (he had abandoned her anyway, even though he loved her).

He could not find another plausible explanation.

But Horus didn't have to jump to conclusions. Look how it went well the first time.

The only way to know, however, was to ask directly. It didn't seem the case, not with Kore and the healer there.

Though he doubted that, alone, his uncle would be inclined to talk.

"As soon as the leg is healed, you will go away, and you will never be seen again ..."

"I'm afraid it won't be a thing anytime soon," Tasherit said, drawing the attention of the god of war.

"What do you mean?"

“The poison is still in the divine Horus system, and it will take at least a few months before I can fully expel it. Also, given the condition of the leg, he may not be able to leave even if he wants to. "

Although it was bad news, Horus became enlightened. It took a few months to recover. It meant he had time to get his uncle to help him. It was a new possibility.

He won't waste it.

#ennead manhwa #ennead seth #ennead horus #ennead #egyptian mythology #ancient greek mythology #mythology #Greek Mythology #greek myth memes #ancientegyptian #ancient greek religion #ennead fic #good story #fanfiction

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lightning-chicken · 5 months

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find a word

i got tagged by @fabrowrites to find the words slide, twitch, break and exhale in my fics/wips!

before i get to the snippets, i’m going to tag: @finn-m-corvex, @rainofthetwilight, @taddymason, @inspectorghoul, @weekend-whip and @giftofjay! your words are (drum roll)… snap, blue, echo, and flicker!! no pressure, of course :D

slide - The Enneadic Logs (unpublished)

“Jay?”

Jay slides to a halt at Zane’s robotic yet soft voice.

“Mhm?” he hums in response, waiting not-so-patiently for Zane to continue. Whatever he’s going to say will probably delay Jay for no longer than five minutes—but five minutes of time wasted in the monastery is five minutes fewer to work on Prime Empire.

Zane nods towards the chore chart, stuck to the fridge with novelty Starfarer magnets. “You may have forgotten this, but I believe it is your slot to do the—”

“Dishes.” Jay groans emphatically. He must’ve lost track of which day of the week it is. Again. “Correct as usual, Frosty.”

And so it turns out the dirty plates he just dumped in the sink are, in fact, his problem.

twitch - Putting the Puzzle Pieces Back Together (part 1, published)

Remembering the porcelain charm was still on the floor, he bent down to retrieve it, but something made him stop.

At first, he didn’t know exactly what had caused it. The building sense of unease; the hair on the back of his neck standing up. His fingers twitched as the feeling spasmed down his body.

Then the ozone gathered in the air, and he realised.

It was the opposite of thunder. Thunder came a few seconds after a lightning strike, a rumbling reminder of something brief and bright. This feeling was the other side of the coin. It was the slow build up to the moment the lightning struck the ground. It was a warning.

He couldn’t explain how he knew it, but Jay knew that lightning was going to strike. And it was going to strike soon.

break - ERROR: Battery Low (published)

Because Jay should’ve been able to survive this. He should’ve had the strength to break his prison of code. He should’ve been found by his friends, because they wouldn’t have stopped their search for him if they’d known he was missing.

(Would they? He hopes they would.)

He might’ve had a chance if it weren’t for him.

The thief.

exhale - Putting the Puzzle Pieces Back Together (part 2, unpublished)

Ignoring the shooting pain that rippled through his side, Jay raised his arm and tossed the dirt, aiming straight for the target’s eyes. It had the intended effect—the target swore, coughed, and rubbed frantically at his eyes.

Jay seized his chance.

Subtle sparks tickled against his fingers, grounding him. He closed his eyes and exhaled, focusing on the surge of the lightning, the way it ebbed and flowed through his body in crackling waves.

Jay opened his eyes, and the Web spread out before him.

#finn tag!#levi tag!#taddy tag!#ghost tag!#tara tag!#key’s conversations #key’s fics #tag game #putting the puzzle pieces back together #the enneadic logs #digital reflections au

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the-archxr · 2 years

Text

cherry

marc spector x female!reader

summary: marc made you a promise during your most recent encounter. one that he intends to keep, no matter where you two are.

a/n: *gif is not mine, it’s from pinterest* a couple people asked for a part two to my most recent fic, ‘it’s worth it, it’s divine’ and of course, after I got this idea, I had to. this fic can also be read on its own, you don’t need to read the other one to really know what’s happening (although both have smut and we’re all thirsty bitches so)

warnings: +18 content, like this, is pure porn, multiple orgasms, over-stimulation, oral sex (f receiving) honestly that’s all this fic is, fingering, size kink, lots of dirty talk, marc calls reader ‘baby’ again cause that’s his new brand, body worship, public sex, mentions of sexual acts from the other fic, more canon divergence

word count: 3k

main m.list | moon knight m.list

join my taglist!

•••

“Fuck, Marc, just—oh my go—“

A large hand places itself over your mouth, robbing your body of any breadth.

“Shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you baby?”

You shake your head aggressively, feeling him smile against your core.

“Good.”

Then, for the second time in ten minutes, Marc gives his full attention to you, and goes back to what he was doing…

Eating you out in the hallway.

A sudden nudge of his nose makes you gasp, though it’s stunted as you bite your lip, nearly drawing blood. Your mouth is already raw from his earlier assault, but he’ll stop if you make any more noise. So all you can do is hold on.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

It hadn’t even been a full week since you last saw him. Since you two had sex against Hathor’s statue and you rode him until you both came beneath the glittery night sky; since you had the most mind-numbing, earth-shattering orgasm of your life.

You hadn’t seen him since neither of you really interacted with each other outside of the pyramids. But today was yet another impromptu Council meeting.

This time, apparently, it was because of Khonshu’s doing. Khonshu wanted to talk, which meant that Marc was going to be there, standing before all of you as though the two of you hadn’t fucked each other’s brains out a couple nights before.

Not that he was subtle anyway.

Hathor, of course, found it to be incredibly amusing. So much so, that she wouldn’t stop talking your ear off as Marc’s eyes and devilish smirk consistently found yours during the briefing.

It’s not that you were ashamed. Not at all. Fuck, if you could’ve, you would brag about that entire night to everyone you knew.

Everyone except the Ennead.

Because you’re positive Horus would be less than pleased to hear that Hathor’s avatar got dicked down in the main room, much less by the avatar of the god they hated the most.

So you kept quiet and averted Marc’s gaze as much as possible. But your lack of reciprocation did nothing to quell him. In fact, it only seemed to egg him on more. Making the entire meeting incredibly difficult to sit through.

You could feel his stare on you the entire time, even when Isis and Osiris took turns berating him. Even when Khonshu spoke through him, somehow his gaze never left yours. It was this feeling that limited your involvement in the conversation. Luckily Hathor didn’t try to make you talk, because you certainly wouldn’t be able to. You wouldn’t be able to speak to him without thinking of the look on his face as you sat on his cock. You wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about the way you screamed his name and begged him to let you cum.

So you kept your eyes to the ground, trying to both tune out the goddess's comments and the meeting at play to the best of your ability.

And then the Council was dismissed. Horus hadn’t even finished his sentence before you were out of your chair and heading for the hallway.

Why are we walking so fast? Don’t you wanna say hi to your friend?

Hathor’s voice was playful as she thudded behind you, laughing to herself as she went on and on about Marc.

You’re the only person I know who runs from someone who gave them a mind-blowing orgasm, ya know, is what she said to you.

You never responded to her, far too focused on navigating the halls as quickly as possible until you were free.

But then he cut you off.

And so here you were: your head thrown against the wall with Marc’s face stuffed between your thighs and that familiar tightening sensation returning like a blazing fire.

“Marc…” you call out to him. He chuckles, misinterpreting it as a moan. You move your hips against him (ignoring the twinge of pleasure that radiates down your legs), to get him off of you so that way you can reason with him.

You need to tell him that you want him. So fucking bad. But you can’t have him here. Especially with the other avatars still congregating in the next room.

“Marc, honey.” With a huff, Marc stands up straight, face and chest incredibly close to yours. The air around the two of you grows thin, and suddenly, you feel light-headed. “The other avatars, they’re still here. We can’t—you can’t…”

His hand tucks a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear before settling his palm on the side of your cheek. “Baby, I’m sure they’ve done much worse things.” He leans down, nipping and suckling at the hollow of your throat. “Besides, they won’t know if you don’t make any noise. I made you a promise…” A finger comes up to your lips and separates them; the pad of his thumb dragging your bottom lip down. “And I am a man of my word. Now…can I go back to my meal? I promise to make you feel just as good as last time, baby.”

You whimper along with a barely-there nod; body involuntarily folding into his. He grins. “Wonderful.”

And with that, he falls to his knees again, yanking your shorts and underwear down from your knees to your ankles. He holds them until you step out of them, before neatly folding the garment beside you.

He starts just underneath your breasts, leaving scorching kisses through the fabric of your t-shirt as his hands run up and down your bare legs. They leave goosebumps in their wake as he slowly edges to where you want—need—him most. He descends down to your cunt, nudging his nose into every curve, slowly mouthing at your hip. His palm splays across the expanse of your thigh, kneading the flesh there.

He’s slow this time around. His desire is not as rushed or hungry. There’s a different sort of passion to his actions.

Puffs of his hot breath hit your pussy, until he’s widening the space between your thighs and kissing you right at the junction of your left thigh.

“Mhmm, missed you.” He mumbles to himself before moving in. His lips wrap around your clit, slowly massaging the little bundle of nerves until every one of them has been turned on. He hums at his own ministrations, and the vibration stings the base of your spine. He toys with you, the ashes he left in his wake a couple days ago reigniting in an instant.

Your hand shoots to his scalp, fingers carding through his hair mindlessly. A feeble attempt to make yourself busy as his mouth does its work.

All thought of the Ennead walking in on this leaves you as he laps at your dripping arousal. He acts like a man on death row like you’re his final meal and he’s going to enjoy it in every way he can. He’s messy; all tongue and teeth and feather-light kisses that make your bones shake. His shoulders hold your body in place against the wall as his head dips and moves in the low glow of the hallway light. You’re nearly off the floor; only his body, and your tiptoes supporting you, as he pulls your hips forward to meet his mouth.

The noises are obscene. A mix of grumbles, hums, and breathy moans echo around you until all you can hear is the sound of him enjoying the taste of you.

He promised you last time that the second time you came was going to be on his face. And with the way the pleasure sears through you, you guarantee that he’s going to get what he wants.

Your back arches into him as your grip on his hair tightens. You feel the way he tries to calm himself down at that. “You’re doing so good, baby.” Another swirl of his tongue. “So. Good… Can tell you’re close.”

You sigh, head lolling to the end of the hallway. You can hear the faint voices of the avatars—still present and chatting as you are being brought to an impending orgasm. It’s an interesting contrast; knowing that they are blissfully unaware of how Khonshu’s avatar has been bringing you to your climax for the second time in this fucking pyramid.

You do your best to be quiet; to keep your sounds to a minimum so as to not alert them. But then his tongue flicks your hole before it slips in and you're slapping your free palm against your mouth.

Your eyes are screwed shut as your hips gyrate at a much faster speed. “Marc…” you whisper, freeing your face of your hand as a particularly loud moan tickles the back of your throat. You hold it there. Desperately trying to keep your release under control. Except he makes it so very strenuous.

Because he’s dangling you over the edge. So close, that just one more stray movement would have you tumbling over the cliff, a mess of sweat and cries as you fuck his face.

“You’re holding back, baby. C’mon. Cum on my face. Wanna taste you for real.” You let out a low grunt at his words. He can still feel you holding your orgasm in, which seems to only frustrate him. And it’s that action alone that makes his hands tighten around your hips as his tongue moves in you faster. A desire to toss you over the cliff and watch as you unravel.

The feeling is all-consuming. You need to cum. So, so badly. But you won’t. You can’t. They’ll absolutely hear you if you do.

But then you feel his hips against the lower part of your leg and you realize he’s grinding himself on you. Marc dry-humps your bare leg, loudly groaning at the friction of his jeans and your trembling body. He’s getting himself off as he eats you out, and it’s that thought that has you crashing.

Your jaw falls slack, movements coming to a halt as you hold him against you. You white-knuckle the fist full of curls as you quiver beneath the weight of his body. Thankfully, no noise escapes you. Just the occasional squeak as your mouth stays open in a silent moan. You came on his face; the same way in which he promised you; the same way in which he wanted.

But he keeps at his pace. Keeps licking and sucking at you, even after your high has gone.

“Fuck, baby.” He moans. “That was good. You’re so good for me.” He bites at the curve of your hip bone, before soothingly licking at it. “But I think you can do better. Think you can be louder. What do you say hmm?” You squint at him through half-lidded eyes and a hazy mind. “Think you can give me a couple more?”

“Couple more?!” Your voice shrieks, the sudden attention of what he’s demanding rattling around your brain. And then you realize how loud you were, and you practically melt into the wall out of embarrassment.

You let out a loud sigh. “Fuck, Marc. Someone’s—you kept your promise. Please. You—you made me feel good, please. I promise.“

He clicks his tongue against his cheek as he shakes his head. “No. No, I don’t think I did. I think…” he palms you then, the heel of his hand pressing deeply into you. “I think I need to make sure that you feel good.”

His fingers tease your throbbing entrance mercilessly as he awaits a response. Though you come up with nothing as you rack your brain for something. Anything. Part of you knows the dangers of you getting in trouble by a far-too-curious Council member, and wants to protest Marc’s efforts. But the other part of you—the part that is still incredibly turned on by the way he pats your folds like an instrument—knows you never wanted him to stop. You wanted him to pull every ounce of pleasure he possibly can from you.

And that’s when you make your decision.

Looking down at him, you inhale deeply, hoping it’ll give you as much confidence as possible. “Give it to me. However many you can just—please…fuck me, Marc. Fuck me.”

He’s stoic for a moment. A brief flicker of shock until his face contorts into a wide grin. “Are you sure, baby? I don’t think I can stop if we get goin’.”

Raising an eyebrow, you bring your hand to the back of his head, eagerly pushing him into you. “I want to cum on your face.”

“…God, I thought you’d never ask.”

Figuratively and literally, he dives back into you. Your lips are swollen and puffy and you’re nearly numb as he continues to eat you out. There’s hardly any build-up this time. Instead, he’s just licking everything, everywhere until you can hear your wetness. It’s dirty—fucking filthy as his head bobs between your thighs.

The stimulation is blinding; boiling beneath your skin to the point where your heartbeat feels like it’s coming from your throbbing pussy. He paws at you, desperate to taste every inch of you. Desperate to hear every sound possible come from you. He flattens his tongue; swirls it around your aching bud, nips, sucks, and shoves it back into your entrance. He falls into a rhythm; a mix-up of different actions that make you want to cry. “Fucking shit, Marc. More, please. Wanna’ cum.”

He doesn’t stop; determined to know every single thing about you. Inside and out. To memorize the way you cum. To know the way you feel tightening around every part of him. To have your thighs shake around his head; to have you gush on his tongue. He continues his pattern, ever-so-slightly increasing his speed with the pitch of your moans. “Fuck, fuck. Marc, I’m—holy shit, I’m gonna cum, gonna—I’m coming! Fuck, I’m coming!”

You nearly fall off the wall into him as your orgasm rips through you. You scream, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he fucks you through your high. You’re gasping in between each wave; each ebb and flow of your release affects a different part of your body until you fall limp and your grip on his body ceases.

Immediately—as though the man doesn’t need to breathe—he’s standing up, body fully engulfing you as he breathes into your neck. He’s huge (you know he is, every part of him). And the fact that your body seems so small in comparison to his, makes you wet all over again. “Want one more, baby. Think you can do that?”

You don’t respond. Simply, you just crash your mouth into his. You taste yourself on his tongue as it explores everything it can. The act is filthy; painfully sexy as you groan through flash images and reminiscent feelings. Somehow you can’t get enough. Your body feels like it’s floating. It’s nearly in complete ecstasy. But you know have another one in you. You’re not fully satisfied. You can feel the desperation for one more release deep in your bones.

You just need one more.

You don’t speak, at least you don’t think you do. You don’t voice your desires into existence. But regardless, Marc knows. Because then he’s dragging two fingers through your slit, collecting your cum before dipping the digits into your aching hole. Your chest heaves almost instantly. Your body opens itself up to him, fully allowing itself to feel everything. To feel the building of your third orgasm.

Fuck, just one more…

He pumps his fingers a couple times inside you before curling them near your cervix, mimicking a come-hither motion. You moan into his mouth, his throat eager to swallow every little sound you make.

“God, baby, just like that.” Your eyes have rolled into the back of your head at this point as he uses his thumb to stroke you while his other fingers pump in and out. In and out.

“That feel good, honey?” He ponders, feigning innocence. You can tell he’s watching the way his fingers fully sheathe themselves in your pussy. The way they disappear, then reappear covered in the remnants of your orgasm and the perpetual arousal; the beginnings of your third climax. And fuck you’re almost there. You’re so stimulated, so fucking horny that he’s already brought you there. You’ve started to ride his hand, wanting to feel him as deep as possible, until you’re sore and bedridden and can’t think about anything other than how hard he makes you cum.

“Fuck.” He growls into your neck. “Gonna cum again, baby?”

You nod, grinding down onto his fingers as quickly as your aching body can muster. The sounds of his wrist slapping against your mound drive you mad; crazy for the way they move inside you. You can feel the bend of his knuckles and the base of his fingers where they meet his palm. They curl and glide with ease as he rubs you in just the right way. His actions are fast. So frenzied and erotic. So deliciously hot that you can’t tell the difference between the heavy pounding of his fingers or the growing knot right above your pussy.

“Harder,” you cry. “Fuck, Marc, don’t stop. M’gonna cum.”

“Open your eyes, baby. Wanna watch you.”

Willing yourself to open them, your fingers go down to his hand buried between your folds. You grab it, feeling the way the muscles flex and ripple beneath the skin as they move with you. Gasping, you arch into his chest, maintaining eye contact as you watch his pupils dilate.

And then the coil breaks. It’s a hard snap that renders the lower half of your body completely devoid of any feeling. Whining, you shove your head into his neck, biting his shoulder as your vision goes blurry. Your climax is hard and goes away just as quickly as it came. Yet your body still shudders. Your contentment lives in the afterglow of your euphoria and allows you to move slowly against his hand until you come back down from space.

Marc presses kiss after kiss—all gentle and loving—into your hair. He doesn’t remove his fingers from your aching pussy, but he doesn’t move them either. Just keeps them there for a moment as he breathes in your scent.

“My turn.”

•••

Moon Knight Taglist (+18)

@amaragray @izzy-laufeyson @eclecticlokibytomhiddleston @bitch-please-i-am-lucifer @bibli0thecary @a-certified-whore @gummywurme @superfanmixromancepony @theartofteendays @butterflyslys @timothee-nook @piratewannabe1013 @themadhatt3risbored @23victoria @nikitawolfxo @bookfrog242 @markijackson @kaqua @jekaelemen @lukespatterson @theamuz @lokisnumber1whore @anthonys-viscountess @loudlibrary @tillthetimecomesalong @avengers-bucky @lewickedgal @spectorfilms @stevestevesteveiheartsteve @dopeqff @lolitstiana @serrendiipty @bunnyrabbit-01 @justanotherkpopstanlol @officialholyagua @chaoticevilbakugo @keepingitlokiii @melancholyy-hill @v0idl1nq @silvery-luna @theimpalasdoctorin221b @urmomdotcom5678 @stxrrylunatic @sageteaandsmut @blindedbyyourgrace17 @daddyjackfrost @mrmoonman @perpetuelledaydreaming

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captainjacklyn · 4 months

Text

So this is part two of my first sagau post, I could turn this in a more detailed fic but knowing that it'll remain in my drafts to catch dust. I think I'll go against it and just give brief ideas for anyone who doesn't have my procrastination problem.

Now I was pretty vague about the other Primordials who watch over different realms as well as Teyvat. But I decided to give them their respective names and personalities (I suppose you can consider them OCs?) just so that we don't get too confused about the whole thing..

For a first born you have Barabath, at current times he's now an empty shell. He was the first realm to ever be created by you, born from an explosion of gas. And out of it poured a thousand dragons who all drank the fire of the first ever sun And yes I did steal that part from game of thrones, sue me. Each every one of them proceeded to descend upon their respective home, all seven of them forged from calamity. The world inhabited Erkanos (guardian of the earth), Belzo (guardian of the sky & stars), Lystéria (guardian of air & moisture), Akarnis (guardian of life), Erghyr (guardian of the mind), Steparyd (guardian of magic) and Valvers (guardian of decay). A war erupted between these gigantic yet majestic beast after your physical descent upon the lands. Their abilities were so great that it only doomed the realm after their final attack annihilated all that was left.

The second child did not end up passing like the former, you had managed to save him when disaster struck upon him. His name is Larbosa, and he is known as the god of wisdom, strength and honor. It was then that the first humans were created. So when you descended once more, they welcomed you with joy and love. But as centuries passed and wars for conquering broke out, people forgot about their creator to the point where all you became was a prize to win. You were sheltered in one of the old temples, its priestesses looked after you every passing millennium. Not as their creator, but as a simple individual who needed a place to stay. You were subsequently sold off to marry a warlord (do you see where this is going?), had three sons with him (whatever your gender is doesn't matter cause you are quite literally capable of anything), he passed, you took over, fell in love with a mortal who devoted him to you, he died, your mortal sons all perished in battle and once the people captured you, they dubbed you AN IMPOSTOR AND DISGRACE TO THE ALMIGHTY THEMSELF you were beheaded.

...

Yuh.

So what your children do when you die is that, your body will disintegrate and just turn into nothing. Then in order to in a sence 'reincarnate' you back into god hood, the realm needs to open itself and sacrifice its own part of you to rebuild you. You saved him because, you're the primordial why could you not, the first son is dead and you learn from your mistakes as a parent/jk. Larbosa is righteous and dutiful, as the second ever world to be created he takes great responsibility in aiding you. Most of the acolytes who follow him learn how to live a life of authority and perseverance through hard work. Like his second sister, he either speaks when spoken to or whenever something needs to be told. Dude is protective, will shove his arm so far up an enemy's ass it'll reach out of their mouth and wear them like a sleeve.

...Yarrhh I'm not cool today.

THIRD KID- THIS ONES A WOMAN! We have Alysia, goddess of love, beauty, and hatred. She's heavily based off of Hathor from Ennead, Aphrodite and Hera with a double personality. Because on one side she is the embodiment of what the 'ideal woman' was expected to be back in the olden days but on the other, her negative side goes against that entire facade of purity. One thing that she favors above anything else is lust, she loves toying with mortals and sees them as beings beneath her. Meanwhile you look after them like your own infants and it's something she uses to manipulate said mortals whenever they go against her judgement. Although she is is typically bright and cheery in public, she easily becomes flustered, particularly around strong beings, or when awkward situations occur. She does indeed become furious when people disrespect her or when she doesn't get her way. The only one who she holds the greatest respect for is her creator YOU, she is highly protective of YOU and will get frustrated when people use her love for YOU as a way to blackmail her. Alysia deeply cherishes her siblings though she has a tendency to call her younger sister a heartless little sh- they all get along, especially with Larbosa.

Second daughter I've mentioned in the past, holds the title of Cymbalia. Her people were known for their truthful justifications and judgment. They knew not of the creator as you were afraid that showing yourself to its collectives would cause yet another loss. Cymbalia, however, was fully aware of her birth-giver’s existence so she chose to be reborn in order to regain their godhood. Though she continued to watch over her people. This had been the first realm to survive complete wipe out but at the cost of being ignorant to your love for them. Cymbalia is mainly stern and focused, and she also often stands up to other powerful gods, like the former : Alysia or Larbosa. She isn’t afraid to speak her mind and utter her words of judgement at any given situation, this trait isn’t appreciated by her older sister who considers her a stickler for the rules. Cymbalia speaks in a assertive tone to display her power to those around her, whether it be a younger sibling or a simple acolyte. She can get especially irritating when commanding people, blackmailing them into obeying her orders. Strangely enough, she favors souls that go against the rules to reach new lengths, people like Il Dottore who quite literally break the laws of life. Goddess of Harmony, Truth and Justice.

Rhymar was the fourth attempt, once again unsuccessful. It only inhabited dry land with no life whatsoever, Rhymar felt insanely bored and began creating their own creatures which unfortunately resulted in a never ending time loop. You tried to help your child but Rhymar ended up insisting on their plans pushing its boundaries so far that the realm began to close in on itself (this was when the multiverse was created, Rhymar controlled the essence of time within himself and could rewind any event they deemed unfruitful). Leaving you no choice but to rebirth them and have their being ascend into godhood as well. Rhymar is quite sarcastic and unfazed, they are more sassy than straightforward. This was shown when you once tried to cheer up Alysia by telling her that she was doing a wonderful job but Rhymar had a change of heart and instead commented with : “I’d say no.” making their older sister feel terrible. Unafraid of defying the rules simply because they feel like doing so, Rhymar was baptized as the troublemaker in the family. When needing to apologize for anything they are stubborn enough to refuse unless their mother comes to them, requesting otherwise. They're the youngest kid, the most chaotic and the god of God of abundance, fertility and foresight.

so..

yeah.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAGHCHCGHCGCHCGHHCCCGEEEEUUUUUUUUGH-

#genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact cult au #cult au #genshin impact god reader

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enneadau · 1 year

Text

Interesting gift fic that is based post Battle City. Nothing within is Ennead canon but I do like what I've seen so far.

#ennead #yugioh #fanfiction #gift fic #interesting #not canon

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soulsforsales · 7 months

Text

Professor Steven Grant x Reader

Warning: This is my first fic (Idk if that should be a warning but I am scared lol), fluff, age gap, no use of Y/N, sorry for any grammatical mistakes

Summary: You always had a weak spot for nerds but Steven Grant might just be the man of your dreams.

Pairing: Steven Grant x reader (yes, we do have Marc and Jake in the next chapters!)

Thankyou @ivystoryweaver for your ideas and support <3

Chapter 1

It is a warm Tuesday afternoon in October. You are browsing the books in the "classics" section at the bookstore. Usually, you come to the bookstore on weekends but you've decided to meet a friend this week, so here you are.

Your eyes roam the bookshelf along with your hand in a straight line until you hit something. Someone. You step back, an apology already on your lips until you turn and see the man beside you and suddenly you are at a loss for words. You stare at him.

Normally, if you run into someone at the bookstore you would just turn away and apologize, which happened a lot since you were always lost searching for your book but it wasn't a rom-com movie where anyone you accidentally stumble upon turns out to be your soulmate - but, god, right now you wish it were.

Honestly, you have seen your fair share of good-looking men, but this guy was, you dare say it, gorgeous.

He had a defined, sharp jawline with dark brown eyes, and his hair was a mess of curls. He was wearing baggy clothes but it suited him just fine and a messenger bag slung on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry,' you hear him say and he gives an apologetic smile. O.K. If you thought he was good-looking a moment ago, his smile was absolutely beaming - and it wasn't even a real smile. 'You okay?' He asks, his fingers grazing your forearm for the slightest second, bringing you back to life. He is looking down at you, confused. Really? Could he not see what he was doing to you or did he not know how good-looking he was?

You nod, saying, 'I am fine. Sorry about that.' He waves his hand in front of his face, 'No worries,' he replies with a smile. He looks a bit older than you, thirteen years or some.

You are staring at him again. You can feel yourself getting red. So embarrassing.

'That's a nice book you've got there,' he says, pointing to the book in your hands that was now wrapped around your chest. The blush on your cheeks deepens, he doesn't notice.

"Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte" you trace your fingers over the cover of the book.

'Yeah,' you say, pushing the book closer to yourself, 'you too.' Alright, you do not know why you said that, but he was holding a book and it only felt right to return the compliment.

Or maybe you are just really bad when it comes to conversations with someone who's got you fawning.

He shows the book to you, "The Ennead" it reads. Suddenly, you are intrigued. Yes, you work for a textile company but History, especially Egyptian, has always been interesting to you. And before you know it, you are both somehow in a long, elaborated conversation about the Ennead, Egyptian history, and the pyramids.

He knew so much that it left you speechless. You could only admire him as he kept spitting engrossing Egyptian facts as if it were the weather report. He talked animatedly, with his hands moving and his eyes gleaming. His hands, wow, his perfect, sleek hands were totally distracting you from his stories.

He stopped abruptly when his phone rang. He was telling you something about Ammit, the sinister goddess of the Underworld but he had to stop and pick up the call.

He held the phone close to his chest, saying, 'Looks like I'll have to leave.' He looked like he was in a hurry but he glanced at you once more before walking out the place, as if he wanted to say more.

He disappeared soon as if he'd never even been here.

Your heart is beating fast and it feels almost as if, you have never had a conversation like this one before. Maybe it was the person more than the conversation itself.

You didn't even ask for his name, you wince at the realization. You should've totally asked for his name.

Maybe you'll see him again.

For some reason, you are sure you'll see him again.

•------🌙

You are a few feet away from the coffee shop's door when you notice your friend. She's sitting at the table with someone, you can't really see who, and is typing aggressively into her laptop.

Your friend is in the last year of her University, she's a year younger than you. You always knew that University was not your thing but you'd attended it anyway because your parents wanted you to and being exceedingly wealthy, they had proposed to pay your study loans for you.

So now you have a full-time job, a good paycheck, and an apartment of your own without any piles of loans above your head. While your friend, still in Uni was drowning in projects and assignments and you knew she needed to loosen up a bit, hence, the reason you two were meeting today.

You enter the shop with a smile, but it drops the moment you notice who your friend is with. You freeze a few feet away from the table. You couldn't be sure if it was him but the resemblance was there.

Your friend looks up from her laptop, noticing you. She waves at you, grinning, which makes, whoever it is, sitting in front of her turn to you.

You almost trip. He looks even better than the last time you'd seen him. He was still wearing baggy clothes, his hair tousled and curly but it looked purposely done. And he was wearing glasses, red colored glasses perched on the top of his nose. Adorable.

You always had a weak spot for nerds but he might just be the man of your dreams.

Your friend asks you to come over and have a seat and you do. You can tell that he remembers you. He's been staring at you ever since you walked in and you can't breathe. What's happening to you?

Your friend, however, is oblivious, she introduces you to the man, telling him your name and he introduces himself, 'Steven Grant,' he says, shaking your hand clumsily. You nod. His hand, oh god, the handshake sent tingles all over your skin.

'He was just helping me with a few assignments, thank you so much for this,' your friend adds and after telling her that it's no big deal Steven leaves the table to get his order.

You watch him go. Steven Grant. You had met him at the bookstore almost a week ago and yet, you couldn't stop thinking about him. It felt foolish but you'd never, in your life, daydreamed about a guy the way you'd daydreamed about Steven Grant.

'Stop drooling,' your friend says interrupting your rail of thoughts. A blush spreads on your cheeks. You aren't drooling... are you?

'How do you know him?' You ask her

Your friend grins, 'he's my history professor.'

Your jaw drops, 'he's a professor?' You repeat, placing your hands on your chest dramatically, 'he's like everything I've ever wanted.'

She chuckles, 'You should ask him out. He's exactly your type and I am sure he's single.'

Your eyes turn to Steven who's now getting his coffee, 'how's he still single?'

'Because he's the most awkward person you'll ever meet and the only friend he has is a goldfish named 'Gus', it is one-finned or something. He loves talking about it,' your friend tells

You smile to yourself but your heart's hammering against your chest and you know you'd never have the courage to ask him out.

'I could never,' you say, biting your lower lip. Before your friend can reply Steven comes back with a flask that the barista had filled for him.

Your friend smirks as she closes her laptop and leaves the table the next moment. You silently beg her to stay but it's too late.

Steven looks at you and you can't stop blushing. You are praying that your complexion doesn't give it away. 'Correct me if I'm wrong,' he speaks sweetly, 'but... have we met before?'

Your cheeks redden, 'yeah,' you say, 'Yes actually, at the bookstore... that day, I - I had no idea that you were, would be - what a coincidence, right?' You give yourself an imaginary facepalm. Someone must remind you how to form a coherent sentence again.

'You're at University too?' He asks

You shake your head, 'Oh no, not anymore.'

Steven smiles in reply and you two fall into an awkward silence. You want to say something - you know you should say something but he hasn't stopped smiling since you arrived and you can't think straight when he's looking at you with those deep, soft, brown eyes.

Maybe you should ask him something about his job - anything would be better than staring at him like an idiot.

You open your mouth to speak but Steven cuts you off, 'that day when we met,' he says, taking his glasses off, 'I wanted to ask you something, actually...' he pauses to take a good look at your face, you can swear you are as red as a tomato by now. 'I was wondering if - if you would want to - maybe - uh, have dinner with me sometime? I was just thinking if...' You don't hear the rest of the sentence. Your breath hitches in your throat. Was he asking you out? Was Steven Grant, the man you had been reeling after - asking you out on a date? This felt unreal.

'I'm sorry,' his voice reaches your ear, interrupting your thoughts, 'I think I might be reading too much into it. I understand if you're not interested.'

Your eyes visibly widen at his words. It wasn't that at all.

'No.' You almost yell, 'I - I am interested. I want to, I mean. I would love to go on a date with you.' You are smiling hard and you can feel the butterflies rummaging in your stomach. 'If - if that's what you are implying.' You add.

This is bad.

Steven lets out a small laugh, his cheeks turning pink, 'Yes. Yes, th - that's what I meant.'

You grin, not because you want to but because you can't help it. He's so nice and so absolutely beautiful.

Steven fiddles with his sleeves nervously, saying, 'Well, there's this really nice restaurant down the street. They have all kinds of food options. I - I was thinking maybe we could, you know, check it out.'

You nod, still smiling. Still feeling the butterflies in your stomach. He looked ten times better when he smiled.

'Yeah,' you say, 'yeah, sounds great.'

'I'll see you tomorrow then? If - if that's okay with you. I get off work at 5'

'Tomorrow's good.'

'Yeah?' He's smiling with his eyes now, crinkles appearing around them and oh, you could just die.

Steven's expression softens as he starts to get up, 'I am terribly sorry, love,' he says, with a weak smile, 'I would really like to stay but I have to leave now - I have a meeting at work. I could, uh, text you the details, though?'

You tell him that it's alright and exchange phone numbers.

'See you tomorrow, then?' He asks, sliding his messenger bag down his shoulder, his curls toss as he fixes the strap and you fight the urge to push your fingers through them. You really wanted to.

'It's a date then,' you say, biting your lower lip. It was hard to contain your giddiness.

'I'll call you.' He says, passing you a little smile before finally walking out the shop.

Oh my god. It happened! You are going out on a date with Steven Grant. You are acting like a teenager getting asked out for the first time but you're too happy to care. You are happy - excited even - for a date, you haven't felt this like this in a long time.

Your friend finally comes back to the table, holding a sandwich in one hand and a coffee cup in another.

'You were ages.' You say, adding Steven's phone number into your contacts

'Was I?' Your friend replies, slurping her drink, 'well, the barista was super cute - not really my fault, besides, what were you chatting with Mr. Grant about?'

You smile. Your cheeks hurt from smiling now but you can't help it, 'I am going on a date.' You tell her, 'With your professor.'

Tagging: @wittyjasontodd (I didn't know if you'd wanted to be tagged since this is not DC related but here it is!), @fandxmslxt69 (bcs I was inspired by your math professor lol >.<)

Anyone who wants to be tagged, just lmk!

#fic #fic writing #moon knight #moon knight fic #steven grant #steven grant x reader #professor steven grant #steven grant x you #i did it y'all

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jake-g-lockley · 1 year

Note

Hello! Could you write prompt 23 with marc, please?

I love how you percieve marc

Command (Marc Spector x royal avatar!reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be Tagged?

Prompt: you are without a doubt, the most annoying person i’ve ever crossed paths with, and don’t even get me started on the sound of your voice

A/N: Thanks for the ask, lovely (and the sweet comment :”))!! This idea also has been on the back of my mind since I began writing fics, but I only suddenly had the idea of using it when I saw this prompt.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, switch!Marc, switch!reader, female masturbation, exhibition (if you squint), bondage, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, unprotected (p in v), creampie, alcohol consumption, choking, powers that are associated with manipulation, one of Marc’s alters are lurking heh.

Word Count: 2.6 k

Being royalty in your country was absolutely useless. Sure you had a throne and a whole castle to yourself, but no subjects to reign over and no diplomatic ties to fight over. You were bored, so bored and angry at the fact that you had so much yet so little. You craved the thrill, tired of being queen in the modern world. You wanted to live the way your ancestors did, powerful, smart and you wanted to write your own story, something that no one else could experience.

You searched far and wide and surprisingly, in your search, you ended up along the river Nile staring up at a beautiful goddess, who gave you all the power you wanted, so that you could do her bidding the way pharaohs before you did. Being the avatar of Hathor meant that you could manipulate people to do your bidding. You finally felt the thrill, the power that you were so hungry for.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Now, you stood in your throne room, staring at the giant portal that appeared before you, a sign that the Ennead was converging at the Great Pyramid of Giza. You smiled and walked through it, not exactly expecting what you would see once you were inside. It was empty, beautiful sculptures that were there before were ruined, everything turned into dust and rubble. You set your hand onto the broken bust of your goddess, a feeling of anger surging through you like no other.

“Would you be even more mad if I mentioned that I was partially involved in this destruction?” a voice you’d never thought you’d hear again rang out from behind a statue.

You whirled around, squinting in the darkness at the direction of the voice. Memories of that voice came flooding back to you and you couldn’t help but smirk at the way it sounded a little too cocky and confident.

“Mostly my god and his destructive abilities but, oh well.” the voice came again and you could make out a silhouette leaning against a bust that was topped with a crescent moon.

“You better show yourself, or-”

“You’ll command me to? That’s not going to work on me, sweetheart, I’ve gotten myself an amulet.” you could literally hear the sly twist in the person’s voice as he twisted something shiny and sharp in his hand.

“Scared, Moon-boy?” you teased, slightly surprised that he knew about protective amulets.

The figure stepped out of the shadow and into the glow of the lamps around you, his olive skin and brown eyes as radiant as the last time you saw him, his crescent weapon clutched in his right hand.

“Not at all, Your Highness.”

Marc Spector was wearing a little too much confidence on him and you were itching to knock it down a few bars as he smirked at you, eyeing you with the same hunger you did a few months ago.

—

“On your knees, and eyes on me.”

He gritted his teeth and kneeled, his eyes trained on yours as you leaned back on your chair, toying with the sash of your robe.

“Good boy,” you purred. “Show me your hands.”

He already had his wrists locked together as he presented them to you and you pulled the sash right off your robe, tying it around his wrists and to your chair as the robe pooled off your body and onto the seat, leaving you bare. Once he was secure into place, you smiled at him sweetly again before spreading your legs.

You placed your fingers at his lips and he opened his mouth obediently, sucking your fingers softly as he kept his big brown eyes on your gaze. You suddenly pulled them out, a trail of spit connecting from your fingers to his lip. You slowly begin to rub at your clit with your spit-soaked fingers as his gaze dropped to your cunt.

“Let's see how many times I can cum in front of you before I have you begging for me.” your fingers push past your entrance and you tip your head back with a groan.

—

“Why are we here, Spector?” you rolled your eyes, searching the room for any sign of the other avatars.

“No idea, I only walked in like five minutes ago, you’re the one who's late.” he shrugged, examining his blade.

Suddenly, he straightened up and his face was set to a grimace as he turned to his left. You felt something too, turning towards the powerful energy that was approaching the two of you. You smiled when your eyes met with big empty sockets of a bird’s skull.

“Not weird at all, you know, the fact that your favourite avatar isn’t your own.” Marc said deadpan, gazing up at the ancient god.

You stuck your tongue out at Marc as Khonshu placed a wrapped hand on your head, smoothing your hair affectionately. Marc watched as your eyes turned gold, before turning to where Hathor was standing, rolling his eyes and shaking his head again.

“You know, if you weren’t an Avatar, you would have been reduced to ashes by now.” Hathor’s voice coiled up Marc’s spine but he held his ground, glaring at you will malintent.

“Just get to the point.” he muttered and you almost felt bad for him but was again impressed by the way he didn’t just melt at Hathor’s words.

“We’ll need the both of you to…”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Steal Hathor’s relic for her! What am I? Just a slave that Khonshu gets to toss around? Nope, you know what, don’t answer that.” Marc repeated for the fiftieth time as he paced around the lavish hotel room as you boredly looked on.

“You never quit complaining, do you?” You said, gazing at him through the mirror as you tried on a pair of diamond earrings that were gifted to you.

“You are not one to talk! You are a queen and a pampered one no less! Why does Khonshu care for you so much anyway?” Marc stopped and glared at your reflection.

You opened your mouth but for the first time in a long time, you hesitated. You narrowed your eyes instead, giving you time to choose your words correctly.

“I’ll tell you, only if you tell me how you can resist Hathor’s strongest charms, even without that amulet around your neck.

Marc’s eyes flashed white and you swore you saw another person peak through but you shook the feeling away.

“I have extra…attachments in my brain, helps me…manage a little differently.” He shrugs, tapping his forehead. “It's complicated.”

—-

“Never tasted a queen before.” his darkened voice came from between your thighs.

His nose nudged beckoningly at your clit as your fingers tug harder at his raven hair as he softly kissed your slit, trying to make you beg for what you needed.

You slowly realised that he was pushing through the spell you put on him, wanting to have control of your pleasure and suddenly you were filled with so much need that the words flew out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Marc, please, I need this.” you whispered, carding your hands through his curls.

“Mmm, that's all you had to say, mi reina.” he murmured into your cunt, before licking a wide strip that had you keening for more.

—-

“Hmm. Okay. I helped Khonshu out of a sticky situation once. It was…complicated.” imagery of you throwing down Khonshu’s figurine and freeing him during Ammit’s reign flooded your memory once more as you fought a smile.

You had ultimately saved Marc’s life in the process of freeing, bringing him back from the dead. You didn’t want him to feel like he was in debt with you, though. It’s why you asked Khonshu to keep his beak shut about this. It was Marc’s turn to squint at you now, as if he knew you were hiding something from him. He didn’t press on, choosing to turn around and glare at the pyramids that overlooked your room.

You caught a glimpse of his handsome face from where he stood, stubbornness radiating out of him like it were second skin. Truthfully, you heard about the infamous Moon Knight before you saved him from the clutches of the Duat, his legendary crescent blade cutting through the throats of those who harmed the innocent. You liked him, his courage and constant need to do things for good making you feel something you’ve never let yourself feel before.

“You need to loosen up, Marc.” you smiled to yourself, pouring him a glass of your special liquor.

Marc turned abruptly at your use of his first name, looking at you suspiciously.

“Come here and take a sip of this, trust me, you’ll love it.” you said, nodding towards the glass on the table as you poured yourself some.

He walked to your vanity table and picked up the glass, examining it before taking a sip. You smile as his eyes widen slightly and he takes another, more confident sip.

“Shit, this is heavenly.” Marc breathed, eyeing his glass again.

You took a sip of your own, the honeyed liquor slipping around your tongue, coating it with a slight fruitiness that singed your tastebuds slightly.

“What the hell is this?” Marc asked, an amused look gracing his face.

“Oh, just a 4000 year old liquor.” you bit your lip and watched Marc’s expression change.

“You’re fucking with me right?” he spluttered slightly, his eyebrows creasing together.

“No, I’m not, if you weren’t an avatar, you’d be dead on my floor right now.” You frowned, tipping the rest of the liquor into your mouth.

“You’re nuts.” Marc chuckled, sipping the rest of his liquor.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Oh, sweetheart, there you are.” Marc’s voice perked your ears up as you turned, casually accepting a quick kiss from him as his arm curled around you and his hand rested softly at your hip.

The man that was speaking to you slowly backed away as Marc’s heavy gaze settled upon him, a fake smile blazing upon his pretty lips that morphed into another one of his famous grimaces once the man was out of sight and amongst the other bidders for the night.

“Did ya’ really have to?” you hissed slightly, turning to adjust his lapel, before kissing his cheek, just in case any onlookers were paying the both of you a string of attention.

“Yep, we have to stay focused.” he said, smiling down at you, nudging your hip slightly with his.

—

One of your legs were hiked over his, your eyelids fluttering slightly as he kept firm eye contact with you while pushing his fingers in and out of you, the same way you did before when you were teasing him.

You let a small gasp leave your lips and Marc’s eyes glimmered, knowing that you’ve let slip that he was doing everything right. You involuntarily tensed up as he continued assaulting the soft spongy spot inside of you.

“Let go, don’t be stubborn. Come on, keep your focus on me.” Marc’s voice temptingly pulled you to the ledge along with his fingers, before dropping you down a forty foot cliff.

You cum hard, panting into his mouth as his nose softly brushed against yours.

—

You stand a little taller, letting your nose brush against his as his fingers tightened their grip on your hip. You let your nose drag along the length of his cheekbone before settling your lips against the shell of his ear.

“You, Marc Spector, are without a doubt, the most annoying person I’ve ever crossed paths with, and don’t even get me started on the sound of your voice.” you huskily drawled into his ear, making him smile.

“My voice? You could practically command people to do as you please.” he softly reminds you, kneading at your hip slightly.

“Where do we need to go now?” you ask, playing along and placing your hand gently on his, tracing his long fingers.

He casually flipped his hand and grabbed yours along, pushing the rest of your fingers into a fist as your index finger sticks out, raising it slightly towards a door to your left.

“There.”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Shhh it should be here somewhere,” you whispered, rummaging through items as Marc nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your expensive perfume.

Marc clearly wasn’t used to 4000 year old alcohol despite having super metabolism. His eyes were lidded and he was hanging onto you like a lost koala.

“You smell delicious.” he whispered and you felt arousal pool at your lower abdomen at the way his voice seemed to kill all your working brain cells.

Your hands grabbed something that shot a course of power through your veins and it almost made you shout out loud.

“Found her!” You turned to look at Marc before catching a glimpse of yourself in a mirror.

Your eyes were glowing gold again and Marc slumped against you, groaning loudly as his hard on pushed against you. You cursed your gift for the second time in your life, pulling Marc’s amulet off his neck and wrapping it around the goddess’ relic.

—

He was lodged deep inside you, but he wasn’t moving, just softly mouthing at the soft skin of your neck and mumbling something incoherently. You kissed the top of his head and used his shoulder as an anchor, grinding softly against him, never feeling so full in your life.

Once you felt yourself adjust properly, you started to slowly move up and down. Some coherent curses mangled with Marc’s broken moans, and it pushed you to fuck him faster, now slamming yourself against him with loud slaps. You curse too as Marc’s fingers dug painfully at your hips, drawing blood with nails.

You clench hard around him and your hand finds his throat, pushing him against the wall as you fucked him with more determination. He chokes, trying to tell you that his release was near, but you knew, from the way he twitched inside of you.

“Fill me up, Marc, fuck-” you stutter as your own orgasm washed over you making you slump against him.

He couldn’t be bothered to thrust up into you, letting the strong clench of your cunt milk him as he released inside of you, breath mingling with yours as he gasped for air.

—

“The fuck happened?” Marc mumbled, standing up to his original height, pressing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

“Nothing, let's just get out of here, now.” you whispered, tucking the relic into your purse and pulling Marc along with you.

The both of you didn’t stop until you were back in your fancy hotel room, where the gods awaited. Marc handed the relic to Hathor and she smiled at him, patting his cheek. You glared at Khonshu and raised an eyebrow and he reluctantly slapped Marc’s back causing the poor guy to jolt forward, making you giggle slightly.

“Fuck, thats enough of that for a while.” Marc said, rubbing the spot where Khonshu slapped him.

He sighed and slumped on the couch, holding his arm out for you. You smiled down at him and took his hand, letting him pull you between his outstretched thighs. You sat down on one of his thighs, leaning in as he kissed the hand he was holding, keeping his eyes on you.

“Wanna pick up where we left off, my queen?” he whispered as your lips inched closer to his.

“Yes, my knight.” you whisper back, closing the gap and smiling into the kiss.

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

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