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18+ | NSFW | Reblogged Disney plus shows/movies
PART 5 (The Next Morning) OF MY *FIRST* MOON KNIGHT FANFIC POSTED!❤️ ao3:Lmrb19->Stevencoded Stevengirl(Jake Kink) [Marc adjacent]
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The Journey of Hanson 913
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POV: you’re a fish and your owners won’t go to a therapist so you have to do
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but you can’t wait to sink in
marc spector x reader, eventual steven grant x reader
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: This is like, nothing but smut lolol. P in v sex, oral (male receiving), daddy kink, dirty talk, rough sex, cum play, spanking, hair pulling, light dom/sub vibes
Experiencing the world from the inside is something fairly new for Steven. While Marc has been at it for years, keeping quiet and simply watching his alter’s life playout from the sidelines, Steven’s always had nothing but darkness between moments of consciousness. He’d be awake, maybe not always alert but at least awake and then suddenly he’d be somewhere entirely different and the little voice in his head would tell him to run, get out of there as fast as he can and don’t look back.
And then the voice found a face, the same as his but his doppelganger’s eyes were cold, harsh and while it looked just like him it wasn’t him at all.
And then he had a name, and Steven slowly figured out that Marc had been there all along. He thought he’d been going crazy, and really he still thinks he’s absolutely mad. He has no other explanation and Marc has yet to give him a straightforward answer.
All he knows is that Marc has his body more often than not, maybe even had his body first and he plays out a life of his own when Steven becomes the voice in his head. When he’d first started figuring it all out he’d never even considered that Marc has his own little world when he’s in control and God is it vastly different from his.
Keep reading
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Warning for NSFW writers!
This was brought to our attention today. We would ALWAYS recommend keeping your writing in two places, for many reasons, but here is one more!
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Tale As Old As Time
Playlist !!
songs used for inspo: Prologue (the enchantress), Main Title: Prologue, Act 1 Pas d'action rose adage
art credit goes to Marbipa
Warnings: none for now
words: 518
chapter 1>>
Prologue
Once upon a time… in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a beautiful castle...
The prince was spoiled, foolish, arrogant, and unkind. He exploited the nearby villages to fill his castle with the most beautiful things whether that would be jewelry, furniture, and women. He would have extravagant balls in his castle and even mistreated the servants who served him…
It was a cold and snowy night. It was the prince’s 20th birthday; he held a party with all the riches anyone could imagine. He danced, wined, and played around with his objects. The prince enjoyed his birthday lavishly while not caring that his servants were being almost trampled on. The party continued on for hours until there was a knock on the castle doors, he opened the door and looked down to see a poor beggar woman. “Please sir…accept this single rose in exchange for shelter from the bitter cold” she weakly said. The prince huffed and laughed in her face “As if, I don't need a rose from such an old woman from you…besides I have all the roses that I could ever have...”
The guests in the party laughed along as well as they mocked the beggar woman. Before the prince was even able to close the door on her, she muttered something softly “do not be deceived by appearances for beauty is found within...” The prince looks at her annoyed and dismisses her again.
Then all of a sudden, a bright light emanated from the old woman, her ugliness melting away, her form changing, her appearance suddenly becoming more youthful to reveal a beautiful, giant, and terrifying enchantress. The prince in shock fell on his knees and stared in awe as all of his guests screamed and ran away from the castle, away from what the enchantress might do. “NO, NO... Please… HAVE MERCY ON ME... I WAS WRONG” the prince said, as he wept and begged for forgiveness.
However, it was too late…the enchantress could see that there was no love in his heart, she pointed the rose at him and as punishment she transformed him into a hideous beast. The prince cried in agony as his limbs and appearance changed, he became larger, furrier, his hands became paws, his crimson eyes became red, his cries became roars. The enchantress also placed a powerful spell on the castle and on all who lived there.
Ashamed of his horrid appearance, the prince shunned himself inside the castle with only a magic mirror as his only way to peer into the world outside the castle. The rose that the enchantress offered, was in actuality an enchanted rose which would bloom for many years. If the prince learned how to love someone and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell from the rose, the spell would be broken. If not…he would be doomed to become a beast for all eternity. As the days turned into months and eventually years… the prince fell into a deep despair and lost all hope
.....For whom could ever learn…to love a beast?
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Miguel O'hara x Older!Fem!Reader
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Smut, hints of Angst
Summary: After college Miguel is quick to find a good paying job as an IT technician, he is also popular with the ladies and despite his sometimes grumpy behaviour, his friends are still tolerating him. Life is good. Then why doesn't he feel happy? While visiting his parents in the summer for a few weeks he may just find the only thing missing from his life.
Warnings: Doesn't take place in the MU, but he still has dark red eyes and a bit longer canine teeth. Miguel is 24, Reader is 39. She is also Miguel's mom's friend 🫣 yeah, you know where this is going you filthy hoe.
Fic Masterlist:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
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Nothing Is Lost
Khonshu x Fem!Reader
TW/CW: Sleep depravation, child/parent death, drowning, grief, depression, anxiety, comfort, Khonshu being a dickhead again
A/N: Yeahhh this one hurt me a bit to write because ohhh boy I can imagine the voice of Merit's mother when she hears the news. Just awful. I'm sorry if this is another hot mess, but I'm hoping to get back into the groove! (Note; I could not think of good enough names for the boys so I'm just coming up with shit as I go, bare with my historical inaccuracies on this one!) I hope this rips your heart out the way it did mine!
Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @astrosphereblog
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Chapter 9:
The Book Of The Dead
The goddamn old bird really didn't understand personal space.
Like, really, really didn't.
You had already run out of fingers to count on the past week how many times you awoke in the middle of the night to him sitting in the dark, looming silently.
"Honestly, will you just tell me what the dreams are?" He'd scoffed as you wiped the heavy sweat from your face.
"Will you go away forever if I do?" You sigh, flopping back down onto your bed.
"Most likely not."
"Then no." You grunt, rolling over to pull the blankets up over your shoulders. The silence stretched once more and you could feel him staring at you.
"Do I need to start charging you rent? Like, if you're not gonna help me, just go, you ginormous pigeon." You say, glaring at him over your shoulder.
His shoulders squared. Apparently, "pigeon" was an insult that ruffled his feathers (god you shouldn't have giggled at that pun) judging by how his posture stiffened.
"Not until I unravel the mystery surrounding you." He replied tersely.
"Good luck with that. You gonna be able to do that by staring at me in the dark like some kind of creeper?" You scoff, facing the wall once more.
You felt a cold chill creep into your bones, a sharp stab of anxiety filling you once again as you close your eyes, hoping beyond hope that you would have a dreamless sleep, or by some miracle that you'd simply feel rested by closing your eyes.
It wasn't even the fact you had an ancient god inhabiting your personal bubble, anymore that freaked you out. What really scared you were those fucking nightmares.
You dreaded trying to sleep every night. You got your "feeling" more and more often now, with every pang of anxiousness that filled your body. The tingling in your hands became too much to ignore at times, and it almost hurt.
After ten minutes of sleep eluding you once more, he grunted. "I know you're faking."
"It's not faking, I'm trying to sleep." You hiss, squirming beneath your blankets.
"Oh, are you now." His voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Yes!" You say, fatigue making your temper very very short. "You're a god, don't you have better shit to do than crawl up my ass?!"
"Not currently, no."
"Fuck off."
"No." He replies bluntly. "Not until I know how you were able to summon me."
"For the last time! I don't kn--" When you rolled over to glare at him, your hand flew out; and as it did, the glass of water next to your bed flew across the room and shattered against the wall.
You sat up then, slowly, looking at the remains of glassware with wide eyes. Then, you pout at the god sitting on one of your chairs as though it were a calm summer afternoon on an old rickety porch.
"Why did you do that?" You accuse.
"I didn't." Khonshu replies, tilting his head to the side.
"But, I didn't.... I didn't touch it..." You mumble softly.
"Magic, in case your brain is too slow to catch up." Khonshu sighed boredly. "It makes sense, now. You did not see the light in your palm just now?"
Your eyes blink slowly, feeling heavy as you stare at your palms in shock. Shit... was he right? Maybe... Maybe he was... No. No, no way in hell could your life get any crazier. It just wasn't possible. He was fucking with you because he was bored.
You swing your legs out from under your blankets and wipe at your face, your eyes puffy and exhausted. "I'm too tired for this. Can you clean that up?"
His head tilted again, his arms still crossed over his broad chest. "No."
"Worth a shot." You sigh, heaving yourself onto shaky feet. If you didn't get rest soon, you felt like you were going to drop dead.
But... you couldn't leave glass for your sleepy ass to rediscover in the morning. Grabbing some paper towels, and your mini broom and dustpan, you began the task of cleaning the shattered and soaking mess. You carefully carried the dustpan full of paper towels and glass remains to your trash bin and sighed as it tumbled into the bag within.
Your head began to bob as the edges of your vision darkened; your heart began to pound in your chest and you felt like it would explode.
Your breath was squeezed out of your lungs, and as you collapsed, you were vaguely aware of something warm enveloping you before it all went black.
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You were pouring over your papyrus scrolls, analyzing every single word, delicate fingers inking new hieroglyphs on the blank sheet nearby.
The breeze blew idly into your room, the sweet-spicy scent of your incense being blown back onto you as you chewed your fingernail, deep in thought.
You were studying the various tales of the gods, as well as scribes' accounts on things that occured within the temples and palace; a few scrolls here and there on the current state of Egypt's economy.
Your brain was like a parched field of crops, every drop of knowledge was drank greedily as though it were water and stored within every fiber of your being. You wanted to be a scholar, you wanted to learn new things, you wanted to know as much about the gods you worshipped as possible, maybe to, one day yourself, get close to them, to be blessed enough to hear their words with your own ears.
You sighed, setting your reed pen down near your inkwell as you rubbed your temple. You felt a stiffness in your hands and neck when you lifted your gaze to peer out your window. It was likely... two hours past midday, you had to assume, judging by how far the sun had sailed.
Your parents were meeting another noble--probably to discuss a marriage between you and a male heir they possibly had--or maybe they went to the palace to speak with the Pharaoh? You were honestly worried he would propose your hand to his heir, and make you his wife or concubine. It wouldn't be ideal, but your father's wishes were that you were cared for when he and your mother passed into the afterlife.
You merely wanted to study, to learn as much as you can, and imbibe the future generations with the knowledge you accumulated as you grew.
You stood, arching your back and cracking your neck and knuckles; your eyes flitted to your bed, and for a moment you were tempted to take a short nap, having one of the servants wake you when your parents returned. Or your little brother, he was out playing with your neighbor's sons, today. He promised that he would bring you the shiniest, prettiest fish he could; proving that if anything happened to your parents, he could take care of you, because you were his big sister, the greatest big sister ever! The childlike sentiment was heart-warming, and you couldn't help but indulge your brother, reminding him to be careful of the currents before shooing him and the other boys off for their fun in the Nile.
But that was four hours ago. And you hadn't heard from them in a while...
You sighed as you looked out the window, your arms resting on the sill while your eyes were drawn to the plucked lotus you had in a clay pot in the small space. It was wilting, it would need to be dumped, soon--
"MERIT!" A young voice called for you.
It wasn't your brother. He sounded panicked--frantic. As the young body came into view, Akenmatuu hopped up and down, his eyes wide and fearful as he looked up at you, his little brother close behind, looking just as afraid.
Ahrenkare was not with them.
You leaned out your window, feeling your skin grow cold and sweat begin to bead on your brow. "Akenmatuu, what is it? Where is--"
"Ahrenkare fell in the river! We can't find him!" He interrupted.
It wasn't more than a few seconds between him shouting those words and your stuttered breathing that you ripped off your wig and ran down to the street where the boys were.
They were shorter than you, their manhood not fully grasping their bodies just yet. And it was just so painfully obvious how young they were when you saw their smeared eyeliner from their panicked tears, Akenmatuu's younger brother openly sobbing as they tried to tell the broken tale; breaking off in a run to show you where Ahrenkare had fallen into the water.
It was high today, the rains causing the water to swell above the banks. You knew the animals that lived in the river were just as dangerous as the currents and swells...
But... But Ahrenkare knew not to go into the water if it was too deep... didn't he? Oh, no... Oh..oh you hoped he didn't try to dive into the water to catch the fish he'd declared he would bring you! If anything happened to him--
Your feet carried you as though you were blessed by Geb himself, the earth beneath you pushing up to propel you along as you frantically made your way to the river, flagging down a few of the men you passed, crying out that your brother had fallen in. A few of the servants carrying out their daily chores even dropped their baskets to come aid you.
The moment your sandals squished in the mud, your dress being torn by shrubbery and reeds as you rushed towards the water's edge, screaming for your brother--hoping that you would see him rise to the surface, scanning the waves with frantic and fearful eyes as the men heaved their woven boats out to sail on the water, trying to help find your baby brother before it was too late.
You looked on the bank, spotting his sandals, having small pictures of ducks and cows on the soles painted and stitched in. You picked them up, so small in your hands, and squeezed them against you, falling to your knees and crying out for someone--anyone--to bring your brother back home to you.
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It was the most horrible pain you'd ever felt in your life. Worse than the pain that came with your monthly bleeds, worse than when you injured your ankle playing as a young girl.
It felt like your heart was ripped out out of your chest--not by Anubis, but some cruel, twisted, maniacal demon bent on your torment.
The wail your mother made as your brother's pale, limp, lifeless body was placed on the embalmers table haunted your dreams. The way she clawed at her own skin, the way she doubled over him like a feral animal and sobbed made your torn-out heart feel as though it were slowly being fed to Ammit herself; intentionally being chewed as slowly as possible to make your suffering worse.
What hurt you even more after that was your father, so bereaved and heartbroken that he could barely function, his face going blank as hot tears slowly tracked down his wrinkled cheeks, his usually immaculate eyeliner running like black rivers down his face.
"No! No, he's not--!" Your mother cried, thrashing as your father and a servant pried her away from his body.
"That's not my son! It can't be! He's not dead!"
You covered your face and sobbed as a priest approached you, his face gentle and caring. Young for his age, his eyes seemed to carry a great age of knowledge behind them. His hand rested on your shoulder.
"Lady Merit... Please. Attend to your parents." He said sweetly to you. "We will take care of your brother and prepare him for his journey. We have already sent word to the workers of your family's tomb--the Pharaoh himself has paid for more work to be put into it so it will be ready to take your brother and keep him."
"It's not..." Your eyes dragged to the tiny frail body draped in the linen sheet. He looked like he was asleep, as pale as the cloth he was wrapped in.
Your shoulders slumped and you started to tremble.
Ahrenkare was gone. You would not get to see him or hear his laughter again until you, yourself passed on and prepared for your journey into the afterlife.
"Lady Merit." The priest repeated again, his hand squeezing your shoulder in an effort to ground you, to remind you that you were still in the land of the living. "I can assure you. Your brother is in safe hands. I will say a prayer as the embalmer begins his work, I will personally insure your brother is treated with the utmost care and respect as mortally possible."
He turned you away from the haunting sight of your brother's corpse; his presence warm despite the cold that gripped your body and refused to let go. "Please." He said softly.
"Take... Take care of him, he..." You choked, your jaw tensing as you tried to bite back the sob that wanted to crawl from your very soul, instead whispering; "...he's scared of the dark."
Your head hung low as your feet dragged you out, following the disturbing echoes of your mother's cries for her son, your baby brother; who had yet to be given the chance to become a man.
The priest who tried to comfort you looked at you with pain and pity; he knew you well. You came to the temples to study. Many times bringing your brother with to help educate him when his tutors couldn't. Such an innocent ba lost too soon to the next life...
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Ahrenkare had been placed in the tomb two weeks ago, and your mother's mind and body began to wither, as well as her will to live. The burden and pain of losing her only and beloved son was simply too much for her heart to carry.
She was often bedridden, now, but occasionally you would awaken to the sounds of her crying, kneeling in what had once been Ahrenkare's room--now bare of his belongings as his burial chamber in your family tomb was loaded with his things--clutching one of the only things she had left him.
A small toy, carved from wood; it was that of a warrior, built similarly to how your father looked, a symbol of the man he used to be before he was injured in battle and couldn't fight anymore. Ahrenkare looked up to him like he was Ra himself, wanting to be just as brave and as strong as your father was.
But your mother...
Your mother was dying.
You and your father could tell. She refused to eat, now; she barely drank. All she would do was stare out at the Nile, her eyes dull and lost as she looked at the sparkling waves, ignorant of the wonderful life they had taken. Oh, it wasn't anyone's fault, she knew, but... She wanted nothing more than one chance to hold him, again, to feel his cheek as she squished him against her for a kiss; to hear his laughter as she tickled his sides in play...
It was as if her ba was preparing her body for its departure itself.
You couldn't handle seeing her like that--you spent more and more time locked in your room, consuming scroll after scroll, drowning your grief in knowledge the same way the Nile had drowned your brother.
When you weren't studying, you were in the temples, leaving offerings and begging for help from one of the gods. Maybe seeking to lift your mother's ailment, or sending a prayer to Nut to ensure your brother's ba sailed safely through the night sky.
You'd left generous offerings to Anubis, maybe as a way of trying to ensure your brother's ba was not devoured by Ammit.
Right now, you were in a small temple, but one you visited often. It was the Temple of Khonshu; and you prayed excessively as of late, in hopes that maybe he would heal your mother, to lift her pain from her so she could begin to recover.
But nothing you did ever helped. And when your mother finally passed on, you were numb-struck. Still feeling from the loss of your brother, you now had to bury your mother alongside him. The comforting words of your father assuring you the gods took her to reunite her with Ahrenkare did little to balm your wounded heart.
And so, here you were. Collapsed on an altar, sobbing into an empty room, the statue of Khonshu imposing and large as it looked over you, the open roof of the temple allowing the moon to shine down onto you.
Your chest heaved as your body was wracked with sobs, your nails digging into your own skin as you buried your face in your arms.
Despite your disheveled appearance, a warm hand found its way to your head, caressing your smooth scalp in a gentle, comforting way.
"I know it hurts." The voice belonging to the hand said to you. "But I promise, they are no longer in pain. They are together, and are waiting for you, and your father."
"But why? Why now?" You whimpered, curling in on yourself, afraid to look at the kind stranger in fear of breaking down worse in the face of someone's pity.
"Nobody can say. Perhaps it was their time, perhaps there is another divine reasoning behind their passings." He told you. "But rest assured... their souls were not evil. Anubis has no reason to judge them harshly."
"It... it hurts." You sniffled.
"Yes... It will. It will hurt." He told you, his thumb caressing your skin gently. "But you just ask yourself... will you give in to the same affliction that ailed your mother's heart--or will you continue to live, and carry their memories with you? You must find out and see if you will join them sooner, rather than later."
As his hand retracted, you lifted your gaze and turned to see who the man was.
And where he was standing, was a man. A man dressed in all white, long robes flowing around him, Khonshu's blessed symbol emblazoned on his chest as he looked down at you, his face covered by a featureless mask, leaving only glowing sockets where his eyes would be.
He held his hand out to you, expecting you to take it.
"Who are you?" You ask softly. "Are you... a... a priest of Khonshu?"
"In a sense." He chuckles gently to you, his hand encapsulating yours as he brings you to your feet with care, steadying your weary body with a hand to the curve of your back.
"Though, many would consider me his Fist."
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Chapter 10: Coming whenever I get around to it (I ain't gonna lie to y'all anymore 😭😭)
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Had not thought of that. Interesting.
A Benevolent Hand
Khonshu x Fem!Moon Knight!Reader
TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, masturbation (Fem), fingering, dirty talking, degradation(?), Khonshu wants to actually fuck you but won't admit it because he's a prideful shithead
MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME
A/N: did I stay up until ten last 4am to spit this shit out? Enjoy whatever horny poetry my sleep deprived brain supplies you. Be free, my horny little doves *yeets y'all into a field*
Also idk why but this gif does things to me
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It was a dull, dead night. There were no evildoers to stop, no killers to send to the sands of the Duat.
Even Badr told you to go home and rest, you deserved it after your diligent work and devotion to your god.
But, of course... "settling in" for the night wasn't something you know how to do anymore.
You've been Moon Knight for so long you weren't even sure what normal people did during quiet nights at home, anymore.
You ate, showered, exercised in the cramped space of your seedy apartment, before sitting on the couch to idly flip through channels, clicking your tongue and reminding yourself to sign up for some streaming services or pirate some stuff at the local library.
You were so bored you settled on an old corny horror film from the 80s, R-Rated and strangely enough, uncensored. But then again, adult channels were still a thing apparently, so you settled in for some cheap blood and guts, stupid busty camp counselors and a masked killer.
But of course, the sex scenes were there, as well. It didn't show anything like porn would, but the actors did a good job of "having" sex beneath the covers, their bodies flushed and sweaty as they went at it like rabbits, panting and saying things to each other in shared breaths.
They were gonna die, that's how these things went. You have sex in a horror movie, you die. The psychos from Scream got that part right about the ole cliché.
But... The way they acted with each other, playing out the part of a couple very much in love and very horny had you... bothered.
You craved that kind of intimacy. Sure, you can go out and find someone to hook up with, have a forgettable one night stand with some idiot at a bar... but it didn't have the physical closeness that was acted out on the cheap flat screen in front of you.
Being a Fist of Khonshu was often lonely life. You couldn't engage in the seeming frivolity of a relationship that was seen every day you walked down the street. No bed warmed by another body, no good morning kisses, no... love?
You shoved those melancholy feelings aside for now, deciding to focus on the throbbing heat blossoming between your legs.
You bit your lip and slid your hand down your front, slipping it beneath the waistband of your pajamas and beneath your underwear, touching the slick wetness that began to coat and soak through the fabric covering you as the movie droned on.
Your fingers slowly started circling your clit as you breathed out a hot puff of air, eyes closing momentarily as you imagined it.
You, with a man who was head over heels with you, tangled up in the sheets.
Sweaty, groping hands pawing at slick skin, tongues dancing as you kissed like you were all the two of you needed to breathe--
Your fingers began to increase their movements, gathering your sweet juices on your fingers to lubricate your clit as you circled with more need.
You dropped your head onto the back of your couch with a pathetic groan, eyes closing as you let the mental image take a better shape, using the sounds from the TV to help mold the scene for you and your faceless, imaginary lover.
You grunted and kicked off your bottoms and underwear, discarding them on the floor as you spread your legs, one foot resting on the cushion to allow better access as your other hand groped at your breast over the fabric of your threadbare tank top.
"Fuck." You cursed aloud to yourself, falling back into your fantasy as your fingers played with your wet, puffed folds.
Your lover would slowly slink down your body, his lips and tongue pressing on your skin until his mouth reached your hip bones.
He would kiss your clit before licking up your slit, his tongue teasing your entrance, tracing it before he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves at the top.
You let out a heady moan, your toes curling as you held back the urge to plunge your fingers inside of you; for now settling on focusing your attention on your twitching clit.
You roll your hips in time with your hand, sliding your hand beneath your top to squeeze your breasts and roll your nipple between your fingertips.
Your lover would lick, kiss, nip, and tease you. He would rut his nose against your clit as his tongue--
Your mental fantasy bubble popped when you felt a very large, very warm, and very real hand slide down your torso, leaving a blazing trail beneath your skin in its wake.
"I sometimes forget how often mortals have these urges." The deep, raspy voice that the hand belonged to sighed out, his tone dripping with... disappointment? Boredom?
You snatch your hand away from your core and instinctively try to close your legs, to conceal your shame as the ancient being crowded around you, the dry smell of sand and spices assaulting your nose as his heat threatened to overwhelm you as he leaned over the back of the couch.
"K-Khonshu--!" You sputter, almost gawking as his bare hand slides to replace yours, his large, thick fingers spreading your lips and gathering your wetness on his digits.
"A rather needy thing, aren't you?" His voice murmured, almost a humored huff coming from him as his thumb circled your clit, sending bolts of pleasure jolt up your spine.
You bite your lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to come out; shame blending in an intoxicating cocktail as your very ethereal and otherworldly benefactor began to pick up where you left off.
"You were being so loud a moment ago." He chastised, his fingers moving very quickly over your clit, his mind focused on how the little nub was swollen and twitched beneath his grasp.
"Don't bother concealing it from me, now, you needy little thing. You're like a cat in heat, right now." You could feel his voice rumble through your, your bones trembling and the deep baritone vibrating your clit as your hand gripped weakly at his forearm.
Your stubborn pride told you not to, not to give in, that this was probably one of the most shameful things a god could catch their follower doing, but...
Most gods wouldn't participate, now would they? Surely, they would chastise you, or walk away and leave you alone to tend to yourself.
When you didn't comply, he grunted and pulled his hand away, your dripping cunt lamenting the loss of his warm touch; hips chasing him for more.
The characters in the movie long moved past the intense love-making between the protagonists. One of them screamed as they found the dead body of one of their friends.
"Disobedient little runt. I will not give you what you want so easily, especially not if you defy me."
The threat was cold, and... oh, fuck it.
"I--I'm sorry." You whimpered, your head dropping back once more, this time hitting the stiff bicep of his other arm he used to brace himself on the couch.
"Good girl." He purred, his hand once more resuming his cruel, blissful torture.
You hiccuped and moaned, rolling your hips once more, this time into the touch of another as heat bloomed low in your belly; molten lava creeping through your veins like thick molasses.
Your chest heaved as his other arm curled around you, his hand taking the soft weight of your breast into his palm, kneading the mound of flesh and pulling your nipple in perfect synchronicity with his other.
"Oh, ffuuuh--" You panted, your body caged from behind as the ancient deity whose age was beyond counting helped you rub one out on your dingey, shitty couch in the dead of night.
You felt your womb throb, wanting desperately to have something inside--
"Poor thing." Khonshu tsk'd. "Could you not find someone--something--to satisfy you? Here you are, rutting against my hand like it is all you know how to do. Pathetic."
You moaned louder this time, arching your back at the words he spat at you. You weren't one for this kind of dirty talk... but having it come from him had your head spinning like you had just gotten off of the tilt-a-whirl on Coney Island--but in a sinfully delicious way.
"Perhaps I should have left you alone. You seemed quite consumed by your little fantasy." He mused, his thumb pressing so hard against your clit that it had you seeing stars behind your eyelids.
"What were you imagining, little dove?" He rasped lowly, the dry, smooth side of his beak sweeping against you, feeling almost cool to your blazing cheek as you leaned into it.
"A nobody? Playing house with you? Laying you down in bed and devouring you like a banquet, perhaps?"
Oh, little did he know how close to the truth he actually was.
Or maybe he did know, and was using it to merely drive you over that mind-numbing precipice you wanted so desperately to fling yourself off of?
You could never tell with him, not when he was playing his mind games.
"I... Uh--ah--" You whine.
Khonshu's fingers pull up enough to slap your clit, the sudden feeling making your body jerk against him as the sound of your went cunt was heard even over the volume of your forgotten movie.
"I am reciting rhetoric. I will talk, and you will listen." He growls, his hand sliding down, his palm grinding against your clit as his fingers toy with your fluttering entrance.
Oh, you were so close, so fucking close. If he would just--
"I don't understand how mortals can function when urges like these are so strong." He sighed boredly, as if he wasn't currently fucking you with his hand, teasing your needy hole but not giving what you were truly craving...
"You are destined for more than a pathetic little house with a yard and a garden. You were meant to carry out my will."
That irked you, deep down. Yes, you knew attaining that very thing was highly unlikely for you, but he didn't have to insult you for fantasizing about being normal.
"F-fuck you." You managed to spit out, eyes crossing as they rolled back into your skull, your voice lacking the conviction and venom you wanted it to.
"You seem to be doing just that, my dear." He tipped his head to the side in a jerking motion.
He gave you not a moment to ponder his words as he hooked a thick finger inside of you, curving upwards and pressing hard against that textured spot inside your spongy walls, making you cry out and lift your hips off of the couch
"...In a manner of speaking." He sighed, pumping his finger in and out, paying extra attention to that oh so delicious spot within you, mapping out your very insides with methodical precision, quickly finding the method to get the best reactions out of you as your walls clenched down around him.
"Look at you, so desperate that you are letting me do this to you." Khonshu mocked softly, a chuckle coming from him as his fingers plucked your nipple and his palm ground hard onto your clit.
"Do you like this? Your god giving you such special attention?"
You keened, panting hard as your orgasm began to swell, each pulsing wave battering down the shores of pride and resolve you had struggled to build over the years of serving out the will of this... god.
"Ah... You are close, are you not?" He teased you, "Let's see..."
He managed to slip another finger inside of you, a groan actually rumbling out of him. You never thought you'd heard a sound like that from him.
But then again, you never expected him to finger-fuck you in your own couch before, either.
"You're tight, little bird." He growled, his voice strained as he scissored his fingers in and out of you, shoving you forcefully to the edge of the shores of your oblivion.
"When was the last time you bedded anyone other than your own hand? Months? Years?" He huffed, pumping them in and out of you rapidly, now.
You were so close you could feel the waters of sybaritism that you could taste the very petals of a lotus on the tip of your tongue.
"No wonder you have been so testy as of late."
Almost.
So close.
Just a bit more!
He leaned over, holding you to him almost like a child clutching a beloved toy; only it was far from something so innocent as you ride his hand like your life depended on it.
Your mouth open, your tongue just barely peaking over your bottom lip as you finally dove into the warm waters, silently waiting for the petals of a lotus to fall onto the wet, writhing muscle; drowning in each drop as your orgasm dragged you out to tide, drowning you as your god dabbled with your most intimate parts in such hedonistic fashion.
You were so lost in your post-coital haze that you didn't even register his hand leaving you until his body retracted; leaving you bereft of his warmth.
You turned your head in time, your eyes bleary, blood-shot and faraway as you watched him turn, toying with the sticky wetness coating his skin.
"Don't fall into this trap again, little dove." The god of the moon tells you over his shoulder, before disappearing in a cloud of mist.
But most certainly not before you had taken notice of the prominent bulge beneath his bandages and robes...
#moon knight#khonshu#khonshu x reader#khonshu x you#khonshu moon knight#moon knight khonshu#khonshu smut
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You were seared onto my hearts, Amelia Pond. You always will be.
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"that movie where Oscar Isaac plays the dad of a soon-to-be messianic figure" which one?
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Always happy to
I’m Your God
Summary: smut. Literal smut.
Warnings: children under the age of 18, DNI.
Pairing: Loki x church choir! Reader
read thor's version here
Please reblog or comment feedback. I will literally block everyone that throws a “like” on this with no further interaction given.
Loki tugs your head back with a rough grip on your hair, whispering ever so hoarsely, “what did you say, Y/N? Tell me again.”
“I need you inside me,” you say, if only your Sunday choir could hear how you really sing for the gods. “Please, Loki, harder.”
With a harsh grunt falling from his lips, he snags away and removes his hand from your clit, sliding the tops of his fingers up your body before giving your exposed nipple a harsh twist, smirking as he hears the squeal if pleasured pain fall between your lips. His other hand pulls on your hair once more to have full access to your throat as he wraps his hand around it, squeezing it enough to make you feel dizzy, your vision slightly blurring in front of you.
“You want me to fuck you harder, Y/N, yes?”
With a vigorous nod an inviting moan slips away from the back of your throat, the strained noise making his cock twitch as he enters deep inside you.
“Oh,” he hums, leaning in close to your ear, his dark locks falling into a curtain on his cheeks, tickling your own, “precious little church girl worshipping me in front of the holy building? it’s blasphemous. you think you’ll be forgiven when you arrive at your choir rehearsal tomorrow afternoon?”
Another whine escapes your throat, lip wobbling at his words but you let your head fall forward with a wanton mewl when he intensely thrusts his cock into your tight cunt. “Oh my god,” you stutter, “Loki, th-thank you.”
“That’s right, my girl,” he grits his teeth, hissing when your cunt clenches his throbbing dick. “I'm your God now. You submit to me, and only me.”
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I’m Your God
Summary: smut. Literal smut.
Warnings: children under the age of 18, DNI.
Pairing: Loki x church choir! Reader
read thor's version here
Please reblog or comment feedback. I will literally block everyone that throws a “like” on this with no further interaction given.
Loki tugs your head back with a rough grip on your hair, whispering ever so hoarsely, “what did you say, Y/N? Tell me again.”
“I need you inside me,” you say, if only your Sunday choir could hear how you really sing for the gods. “Please, Loki, harder.”
With a harsh grunt falling from his lips, he snags away and removes his hand from your clit, sliding the tops of his fingers up your body before giving your exposed nipple a harsh twist, smirking as he hears the squeal if pleasured pain fall between your lips. His other hand pulls on your hair once more to have full access to your throat as he wraps his hand around it, squeezing it enough to make you feel dizzy, your vision slightly blurring in front of you.
“You want me to fuck you harder, Y/N, yes?”
With a vigorous nod an inviting moan slips away from the back of your throat, the strained noise making his cock twitch as he enters deep inside you.
“Oh,” he hums, leaning in close to your ear, his dark locks falling into a curtain on his cheeks, tickling your own, “precious little church girl worshipping me in front of the holy building? it’s blasphemous. you think you’ll be forgiven when you arrive at your choir rehearsal tomorrow afternoon?”
Another whine escapes your throat, lip wobbling at his words but you let your head fall forward with a wanton mewl when he intensely thrusts his cock into your tight cunt. “Oh my god,” you stutter, “Loki, th-thank you.”
“That’s right, my girl,” he grits his teeth, hissing when your cunt clenches his throbbing dick. “I'm your God now. You submit to me, and only me.”
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Oscar Isaac on Becoming an Internet Sensation
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Iron Man 3 (2013), dir. Shane Black
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