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darlingpwease · 8 months

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I wonder if Can you write Yandere Omega Seth (from Ennead) if you okay with it

I'll find you

hide as much as you can // I'll find you

♡ fictional mythology, unhealthy behaviour, lovehate dynamic (love -> lovehate), animalistic behaviour, pet names, power exchange, mention of bloodletting (seth), hints of incestuous relationships?; beta!reader -> alpha!reader, heqet/khnum!reader implied

♡ rough treatment, mild blood kink, mild scent kink, heavy petting, dubious consent -> consensual, unprotected sex / breeding, bondage by sand, power imbalance -> power exchange; word 'womb' used once for Seth

𓂀 Contacting this omega is not the best solution — you realized when you first met him, while coming out of the Nile, the keeper of the floods of which you were.

Of course, it's not that you were obliged to communicate with any of them or even be interested in your distant relatives, who were no more than the seventh water on the jelly, but you needed to come out of the depths of the Nile at least from time to time — and when you finally come out, for the first time you meet an unusually red shade, burning like a torch against the background of burning golden sand and the sky blue as the waters of the Nile.

He was like a creature that was born from the spilled blood of all the fallen warriors who did not find their way home, but took refuge in your waters, sprinkling your waters over and over again until the river turns red like the sunset.

His name was 'SETH', he was the god of war and the desert, his parents were Geb and Nut — and when your gaze first crossed, it was as if you were hit on the head with something; almost a low cry of 'YOU WERE NOTICED' so loud that if you were human, you would turn away and run away, — under the sand, under the ground, under the water, no matter where, — but you are not a human and, even if you were weaker than him, you would not run away.

After all, who is the 'God of War and the Desert' against the Deity who keeps the Nile?

“Don't you dare look at me like that anymore.”

wolf cub.

You can guess that his behavior is probably an attempt to attract, as a fertile young omega provokes a fertile young alpha to get angry and chase after him, showing everything they can, just to prove that they are good enough to fill the womb. You know all this. After all, you were the one who created the figures of people who were illuminated by Ra, and you were more than able to watch these playtimes when the lovers went too far in their games and fell together into the coastal waters after a long chase.

And you more than know the brilliance of those eyes — and react faster than realize, like water, which acts intuitively, not relying on reason, to survive. They say that betas have a stronger intuition with understanding of the world — it's not for nothing that you are one of those gods who prefer maximum detachment, 'spirituality', achieved through refusing to accept the role of omega or alpha.

And you let your instincts dictate.

Before his cheeky mouth has time to say anything, you just have to make a wave so that the waters of the Nile aim at him like a beast that has found prey — and break against a strong, slender figure, without causing severe pain, but forcing him to take steps back, no longer bursting into your space.

SETH'S hair, dripping and darkened from the water, sticks to body — but before he has time to resist you in any way, calling to himself the sands of the desert, submissive to him like a tamed pet, you dissolve into the water, returning to your native current...

“I'll find you!”

... The waters of the Nile easily take you into themselves as a natural part, hiding you from the outside world, dissolving like everything that falls into the water abyss and stays here; it's not for nothing that people say that it was water that gave birth to life, and that water is necessary for life.

And although you are not a water Deity, you are also worth something.

𓂀 You know that this is not Ra — although the method of summoning is the same, Ra would rather strangle herself than summon you, especially so soon after the last arrival. Even if you had a... good relationship, — you both contributed to the appearance of 'humans' — it was obvious that you were still different.

Your clay figurines needed a bright fire to come to life, just as she craved worship and followers — it was an interchange where mortals became what brought you closer and pushed you away from each other.

However, SETH was looking for you for other reasons, quite different from 'worshippers'.

Although you are used to being summoned in other ways, such as sacrifices and festivals, you must admit that you clearly underestimated the son of Nut and Geb, who were no better than any of them — but at least they were smart enough not to try to find out from Ra a way to summon you without having to wait at Nila.

Because more than herself and power, Ra loved only to have fun — and sometimes you wondered if she was looking for power just to have fun.

“... Heh.”

When he looks down at you, like a child who has found a gift hidden from him, his scarlet lips stretch in a cheeky smile.

If most gods and goddesses somehow have more alpha and omega traits, then SETH looks like there are too many of these traits in him, like an omega-like alpha or alpha-like omega than beta.

“It turns out that this is the only way you can be summoned? I thought to the last that she was lying...”

The scarlet spot spreads across the water surface of the unusually calm Nile, dissolving in the streams of water that carry the particles with them, absorbing a new part of itself into its course. If people knew how much Nile water contains particles of their children, parents, friends, spouses, enemies, detractors, traitors — would they drink it?

If they knew that the same water absorbs the blood of the gods they worship, what would they look like, scooping up water like the purest gold — the same as he controls, the God of the Desert, smelling of sand dust, dry grass and heat?

“I don't care. You're here, so it was worth it.”

You don't think that the blood of God should be used for such things, like simply calling you from the river bottom, but don't say anything, giving someone to continue — and SETH continues without hearing an answer.

And although he, in fact, created a trap for you, filling the entire stone floor with his sand to make sure that you don't run away anywhere, you feel more like in the paws of a small puppy than in the cave of a mature wolf.

Wasn't it really an exaggeration to be afraid of him?

... Apparently, you have been under water for so long, absorbing the blood of warriors and animals, that you have become too sensitive to any danger...

“I promised you I'd find you.”

𓂀 SETH smells of freedom — not the freedom that has no limits or restrictions, only dead bodies that float along the Nile can have such freedom, but the freedom that is like the hot breath of the desert during the day and the icy whisper of the desert at night; it smells of heat, dry grass, the blood of soldiers and treasures captured with the help of weapons.

You pretend that you don't notice when treasures fall to the bottom of the Nile, and that, moreover, don't understand who gives you them; but it's hard for you to deny that you don't like the look of them. After all, the Nile is not just a 'river' or 'your home', but your temple and refuge, and the sight of expensive and precious things sheltering the once bare, dreary bottom undoubtedly improves the view and your mood; especially when the current of the river carries you further, and gold, like a lighthouse, shines; sprinkling the dark bottom is like the moon shining on the darkest desert night.

SETH is hot and fervent, like burning blood flowing out of him until you hand an object that can immediately contact you, instead of flooding waters, as if out of spite spending more than really needed, as if the more blood, the faster you will rise to the surface.

(in a sense, it is, but for other reasons...)

You can understand that this relationship is frowned upon, at least by his brother, but there's not much you can do — the waters of the Nile are all-encompassing and almost omnipresent, and the way SETH regularly calls you is almost charming if it wasn't so intense, as if every time he struggles with himself in the desire to devour you or to drag away, but at the same time I have to give up this need, which is close to the human need to drink water. You don't need to ask him about it to know — the way he looks at you, as if wanting to sink his teeth into your skin and take you to his cave, is more than eloquent, and even the way his smell intensifies, silently shouting that he is a strong, healthy and fertile omega, in itself is an obvious sign.

And the fact that you are just as quiet and calm, like serene dark waters, untouched by gusts of sandy wind, only further inflames his burning passion and desire, which he himself cannot describe in any way except as 'mine'.

Mine.

Mine mine mine — you give life, carry life, no matter in a running stream or standing water, watching as the surface is filled with bodies and blood, dirt and tears, bodies entwined in passion and love embraces. It doesn't matter — everything will be dissolved in your current and carried away until it becomes no more than another drop in billions of the same, carrying information that only you know.

SETH, on the other hand, carries with him the smell of something wild, giving life, — but also ruthlessly taking it for himself, strewing everything with the red-hot gold of the desert, which becomes more and more every time you rise, noticing how the waters that used to caress the fertile lands now nourish the sand.

And you know what will happen next — SETH has never been a secretive type, even if his method of hunting was closer to big cats hiding until they get close enough to bite into the throat and gnaw, taking them to their hideout. SETH is the same cat — big, red and strong, smelling of mature omega when he notices that you are more responsive to this fragrance.

SETH is not at all deeply interested in the topic of "let's mate" — are you sure that he is attracted not at all to your physical data or smell, but to how comfortable and safe he is next to you, letting him finally relax, looking for comfort in your waters, and that if he decided that you would be his, then you will be his.

He will always find you.

𓂀 SETH is persistent, stubborn and aggressive. Even if his emotions are a sphere that is easy to push and cause pain, you understand perfectly well that he is the god who will break rather than bend.

But when he asks you what happens to the bodies of those soldiers that he led to war, when they find themselves in the Nile, like bags full of blood, breathing and thinking recently, at first you don't know what to answer — not because you can't share his silent pain, looking like a scorpion that suddenly bared you have a soft vulnerable tummy, but because you have nothing to answer.

What happens to the bodies? The Nile absorbs them — everything that was dumped into the waters finds itself in the stomachs of animals or in water particles, carrying with it such an amount of memory that nothing else can contain.

“... If I die one day, will you promise that my memory will be preserved in your waters?”

You no longer know if you are talking about the waters of the Nile or something else — but you know that you will probably never find SETH like this again.

Unusually fragile, as if really an ordinary omega who just wants to have a family, a common nest and puppies. To have you as an alpha, to be in the same nest with you and to have children together.

What can you say other than consent? No matter what happens, he will always remain in your memory — as a special memory that will never be erased.

“... Thank you. I'll never forget you either. And I won't let go.”

His eyes are burning just like the sunset on the background.

“We'll be together. Always. Because I chose you and I won't let you go.”

𓂀 His power becomes stronger, and when you meet him again, you have nothing to oppose when the sand from the land and the bottom rises to grab you.

Undoubtedly, it wasn't something that you 'didn't expect' — SETH was never the type who tried to hide what intentions he had if he saw that it would affect your attitude, and even if he found comfort in your touches and hugs, covering him like a blanket from the whole world, he never had this safe habit of 'being content with little'. His intentions were obvious from the first meeting and did not change at all — you were perfect, from head to toe, the only one with whom he would like to spend one heat and then make you spend thousands more, finally feeling complete, finished.

He, the god of the Desert and War, with you, Deity of the Nile flood — is not the best couple that can be?

'No'?

... Ha, does someone think that things like "imperfect couple" or "more worthy" or "more accessible" or "morally wrong" or something else will stop him?

Does he need permission? If he wants it — he will get it. And nothing can stop him.

Even if you are a beta, you smell fertile, pleasant, sweet — you smell of life, sex, from which children are born, absorbing the spilled blood and creating from it what brings birth and fertility, and SETH has always been more than gambling and ready to put everything on the line.

And you knew it.

Even if you are safe in the water, once you get out, nothing can save you — especially when you step on the sand, which immediately becomes your cage, locking you in. The waters immediately splash out of the Nile, crushing on him, but now SETH moves only a couple of steps, becoming much more powerful — and when palms grab by the wrists while teeth close on neck, everything inside you starts screaming again that you need to run right now.

Now the sand turns out to be decorated with spots of the deity's blood.

His mark pulsates on never-marked neck — and although it is not the same among deities as among people, you clearly see that for him it was not at all 'just a bite' or a 'mating mark', but a sign of possession, while the pupils in the blood-red iris, the shade of red-hot metal, expand, and a nimble pink tongue licks the blood from scarlet lips.

Red.

RED RED RED.

Nails are no worse than the claws of a wolf, and even fangs look like they can easily tear apart a dozen other people who decide to intervene.

The sand squeezes your feet so tightly that you can't even twitch.

This is all completely wrong.

You cowardly escape into the waters — betas are not capable of mating, are not created for this, closer to 'asexual beings' who do not have a biological task in the form of giving birth, much closer to the primordial asexual matter than to the omegas and alphas giving birth, but for some reason a mark with an imprint burns on his neck which didn't exist before.

Was it you? Or was it the part of you that you denied? You didn't know. It is easier to plunge into the native waters than to try to figure out why for the first time its fragrance was so dizzying, or why you went for something like this. You're not like that at all — not like that at all. It's not normal.

But you'll have to get out soon anyway.

You don't want your omega to get hurt while calling you, right, alpha?

Interlude

“I'm surprised you decided to step in anyway, dear.”

When the sand almost gently wraps around your hands, you realize that the biggest stupidity you can do is to try to escape.

Even if there is water in things like vases in the room, this is too little to create the necessary amount — and even to make sand soft and heavy, such a meager amount is not enough, except to pour it on him and break a vase on this face.

“Wasn't it you who liked to be constantly huddled in your little shell? Hiding there from any danger and thinking that it will help you?”

His hands are not the same as before — slightly rough, wide palms that easily slide over your cool skin, leaving warm traces, slightly scratching with sharp nails, as if hinting that you should not do rash things; if he did not smell like a blooming omega, you would think that he was alpha or alpha-like beta.

“But it turns out that if it's not me, but someone else, then you're ready to help them! No matter how much blood I shed, you didn't come out — but as soon as it was Isis, you immediately got out to help.”

His mark on your neck has not been pulsating for a long time, but when his fingers touch your neck, he freezes for a moment, assessing the scar left, which is almost impossible to notice — and from something, your body again feels this soreness, fettering for a moment from the realization of what happened before the brain began to work feverishly.

Then.

Now you are experiencing phantom pain until you realize that it is not 'phantom' — SETH shamelessly licks your blood from his fingers when he realizes that he scratched the old mark.

“This is wrong.”

Even when blood drips down from the shoulder, you know that's not what you need to worry about — his body is hot as the desert during the day, especially when his hips easily sit on top of yours, taking care that the sand does not let go of your hands.

“I promised you I'd always be there for you; although it was you who avoided me all these years, not appearing even when the corpses filled the entire Nile, while the other gods were terrified of what was happening — but I understand. A lot to do, yes? You've always been busy and strict, ever since our first meeting, when you doused me like some kind of animal.”

The thick scent of omega is so strong that you are not sure if it smells from him or if it is something else — the same thing that made you bite his neck then; your bite is also still burning on his skin, although it looks much more noticeable on him, although you are sure that you bit weaker than him.

The sweet bloody fragrance makes you dizzy.

“And when I saw you, I realized that you didn't live well either; after all, who but me could take care of a hermit like you?”

His hands, in spite of everything, are omeganine soft and pleasant, even if he uses them to look even more wrongly charming, as if he did not sneak into your bedroom — in which you were definitely expecting this meeting — to "talk heart to heart" while his hot wet slippery thighs touch your hips,

obviously.

“I was doing the wrong thing. I gave you the 'right to choose', thinking that this is what lovers should do — but, you know, people around me explained to me what I did wrong. By own example. And I'm ready to show you what I should have done back then, instead of this idiotic thought that you'd think it over and make a nest with me...”

He purrs — deep in his throat, like a big cat, when a strong flexible hand gently rests on your chest while the second one uses the surface behind as a support, rubs against your thighs, leaving sticky wet traces of juice on your bare skin, from touching which your skin burns, and you don't look at him, making sure not to do anything you might regret,

“Look at your omega.”

but it's hard to do when his hand moves from your chest to your throat, not squeezing, but feeling quite threatening, even if you are sure that it will not cause any harm.

“Don't you dare take your eyes off me or I'll scratch them out. You can only look at me and see only me. No one else and nothing else.”

The way he hovers feels almost the same as when he was able to summon you for the first time — his hair hangs down freely, like the flames of candles burning around you, and the same abnormally bright glow burns in his eyes, like the eyes of a cat. Or a wolf.

An abandoned, starved wolf.

“... Like I said, no one cares about you but me — you can fight this idea all you want, but we both know it's true.”

It's wet, wet, hot, sticky, tight between SETH'S thighs — you didn't consider yourself a 'virgin', but when the smell gets stronger and sharper, even you need time to get rid of the veil of excitement that covers eyes in the basest way, looking at his strong thighs while red hair falls over his shoulders, revealing a view of the most handsome omega in your life.

“Therefore...”

His lips are scarlet, thin, beautiful, and when he bends over you, you can't feel the inarticulate delight and the misunderstanding that follows it, associated with the simultaneous desire to pull away from repeated unusual stimulation and the desire to take this stimulation, grab by the hair and breed until it becomes clear that you will need a joint nest, in which he will keep the puppies while you fill him again and again.

Over and over, until his belly is rounded.

This is wrong.

His legs are slender and strong, ideal so that you don't have to do anything while SETH is able to at least move his knees — but you are sure that if you just wrap your hands around his hips and squeeze, you will get much more pleasure and delight, hammering into him with the basest this is wrong in a way.

It's the smell of omega. Definitely the smell of omega.

You yourself can't feel like this for him — for omega, who first marked you, then pursued you for many years and now, finally getting a chance, immediately pounced like an overexcited wolf, to such an extent that you can see the juice flowing down his thighs, although you are sure that even he does not realize it himself, considering it nothing more than a 'punishment'.

“... let me take care of–”

Of course you will.

Everything happens in the blink of an eye — the water, the sand, astonished expression on his face and how it takes you no more than a couple of minutes to find yourself in a deliciously tight heat, from which his claws immediately scratch your hands holding him on his back until it bleed, but nothing in him tries to escape, even if SETH growls mixed with purring, choking on words as you snuggle tighter, allowing something more animal, dirty to take control.

You smell of life, passion, sex — 'the very sex from which children are born', the very life that gave rise to mortals, and you know that you have something to fill this womb with.

When his cheeks are covered with a bright blush, reminiscent of the shade of his eyes and hair; you can't help but reach out to burrow into his neck, not caring about the sand that is wrapped around your ankle — and not caring about the aggressive imperiousness with which SETH squeezes you while sharp fangs bite your lips almost to the point of blood, greedily kissing, almost devouring.

If you leave me again, I'll find you and kill you.

#.spicy♡#❖.my jewelry #🥮 — ennead #✉.seth #🧸.yandere au #🧸.omegaverse au #🧸.unhealthy #🧸.blood play #gender neutral reader #cw dark content #seth x reader #top reader #ennead smut

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yonaioana · 1 year

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Masterlist!

Genshin impact

Obey me

My hero academia

Seven deadly sins (preferably Ban)

Dc (mostly Damian)

Killing stalking

Dark fall (the bl)

Paper flower ( the bl)

Slashers

Demon slayer

Spy family

Tmnt

Ennead

Gravity falls

Wardstone chronicles

Shadowhunters (the book since I have not seen the series)

Howl's moving castle

If you want something that is not here it will take longer cause I will have to look into it.

Will write: fluff smut angst(not hardcore angst)

Will not write: pedophilia; r*pe; death; drugs; etc.

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x-z-x · 1 year

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RUBÍ

→ Seth x Diosa!OC [Habibah]

✦ Sinopsis: Hathor genera su primer descendiente y Seth es el último en enterarse.

✦ Palabras: 5391

✦ Advertencias: Incesto / Smut + Asfixia erótica.

✦ ENNEAD es un manwha basado e inspirado en la mitología egipcia. Explicaré a los dos dioses más importantes para la historia, el resto no son relevantes y tómenlos como simples personajes si no los conocen.

Seth: Dios de la Guerra y Desiertos.

Hathor: Diosa del Amor y Belleza.

✦ Nota: Este oneshot lo publiqué en un blog viejo, así que pueden haberlo visto antes en Tumblr. ¡Ojalá les guste! Comentarios, likes y reblog son muy apreciados ♡

—¿Qué le sucede a Hathor?

Los presentes voltearon y mala cara se posó en algunos al ver al nuevo integrante de la habitación, Seth enarcando una ceja y Sekhmet sonriendo en grande dispuesta a darle respuestas.

—Al parecer su hija está causando problemas —rió con malicia.

—¿Desde cuándo ella tiene descendientes? ¿Quién de ustedes fue? —preguntó ligeramente agresivo por la confusión.

—Ninguno —suspiró Maat con los brazos cruzados—. Hace tiempo tuvo una aventura y...

Seth hizo un sonido que señalaba su opinión de lo idiota que era por caer en preñez y pronto les observó con sospecha respecto a si aquello fue un secreto que por años guardaron solo de él.

—¿Qué hizo para que Hathor pasara corriendo por los pasillos entre sollozos?

—Nació con la belleza correspondiente a la posición y aspecto de su madre. Gusta de bailar y viaja con un grupo a distintas ciudades para dar espectáculos, pero su rostro está llamando bastante la atención —explicó Bastet.

—En serio, ¿el problema es que tiene muchos pretendientes? —burló con un bufido.

—Va más allá de eso, algunos son divinidades que están comenzando a pelear y generar caos —dijo Maat marcando la importancia del asunto—. Pedimos que Hathor pusiera orden y le exigiera que actuara correspondiente al título de diosa, pero…

—¿Diosa? ¿Su hija ascendió? —preguntó con menos simpatía.

—Es la Diosa de las Piedras Preciosas y Metales, todo lo que usamos fue confeccionado por ella —dijo Thoth mientras señalaba el increíble collar que lo decoraba.

Isis sonrió con burla y Seth desechó la situación como una pérdida de tiempo, enseguida abandonando el lugar y dirigiéndose a su templo. Al llegar, contrario a lo dicho, impuso que los sirvientes más fieles buscaran aquella chica que todos atraía, pero la información llegó varios meses después y para ese entonces cualquier interés había desaparecido.

Aún así, Hathor no dudó en enfrentarlo cuando se enteró que él sabía que su preciada hija vendría a la ciudad. Estaba nerviosa y alterada, y que el hombre la minimizara no ayudaba en lo absoluto.

—¡No te metas con mi bebé! ¡Yo me encargaré de los enamorados, eliminaré cada rastro de afecto y nada sucederá! —gruñó con el ceño fruncido.

—¿Recién ahora decides actuar? Batallas y varios conflictos se han dado por su culpa, y ese es mi territorio.

—¡Es la victima, no la responsabilices! Si le haces algo…

—¿Qué? —enarcó una ceja sonriendo desafiante—. ¿Acaso crees poder enfrentarme?

Hathor se puso bordó y la pupila de sus violáceos ojos se volvieron verticales, el aura que la rodeaba siendo sumamente amenazante.

—Haré hasta lo último para terminar contigo si te metes con ella, no importa si debo cambiar los sentimientos de cada ser viviente para que la protejan y vayan contra ti —aseguró con chispas surgiendo de la punta de sus dedos, acto seguido dando la vuelta y saliendo del salón.

—¿Desde cuándo se atreve a hablarme así? —sopesó molesto, las uñas de sus dedos golpeteando el trono que ocupaba.

Eligiendo ir sin importar qué, indicó que preparan ropa menos llamativa y que lo cubriera bien al su cabello rojo no pasar desapercibido. Se envolvió en lino y partió al anochecer a la zona indicada, donde frunció el ceño al ver la gran cantidad de gente que ya ocupaba la delantera.

—Señor, venga por aquí —avisó una joven con fina joyería y gran sonrisa.

—No me toques —gruñó cuando lo sostuvo del brazo.

—Por favor, tengo indicaciones de la interprete principal de llevarlo a primera fila —explicó sin perder la gracia.

Seth entrecerró los ojos y avanzó notando que varios mortales vestidos como ella organizaban a los espectadores. Mujeres y hombres le observaron pasar preguntando quién era para salvarse de quedar atrás, al frenar siendo dejado en un área con almohadones a pocos metros del escenario desmontable.

Con la bajada del sol antorchas fueron encendidas y los músicos se acomodaron en sus bancas mientras comentaban por lo bajo entre sí. Tomó un tiempo a que el espectáculo comenzara, un hombre dándoles la bienvenida antes de entregar la dirección de que empezara el sonido de tambores y demás instrumentos. Los primeros en salir fueron un grupo mixto que danzaba en parejas o pequeños conjuntos antes de romper formación para interactuar con el publico. Seth admiró la presentación pensando dónde encontraron tanta gente hermosa y talentosa, el publico riendo y aplaudiendo ante el buen ánimo que los artistas imponían.

Los minutos fluyeron en una actividad diferente para él, el acto final arribando y levantándose una tela en donde varias siluetas femeninas captaron la atención. Un ritmo diferente empezó y el paño fue soltado por los hombres que se sostenían en escaleras, nueve mujeres enseñando sus espaldas con una estando en la punta de la formación V. De a poco voltearon y finalmente apareció el rostro de la chica que fue a conocer, la boca de Seth quedando entreabierta en una expresión anonadada.

Con una sonrisa confiada y seductora de labios rojos como rubíes, la diosa levantó los parpados y enseñó irises de un purpura oscuro con largas pestañas heredadas de su madre. Dio lentos pasos mientras las demás femeninas se repartían en el escenario, en sincronía comenzando su coreografía con increíble actitud. Cristales y cuentas doradas se entrelazaban en el cabello y volaban cuando giraba, las decoraciones que vestía brillando tanto como ella mientras quitaba el aliento de cada presente.

Los rojos ojos de Seth siguieron cada movimiento y admiraron las curvas que se ondeaban pícaras, ella no fijándose en él hasta que se aproximó a la zona privilegiada. El baile ahora era libre y las personas de las anteriores actuaciones salieron a unirse a la diversión, la mujer agachándose con aire depredador y avanzando al borde del tablón con las manos y rodillas. La gente gritaba emocionada y ella no paró de mantener el contacto visual hasta que se elevó meneando despacio las caderas. Recorrió sus piernas, muslos, cintura y cuello en un espectáculo sumamente sensual, pronto dando media vuelta y llamando a uno de los hombres que danzaba cerca.

Euforia inundó ante lo que podía suceder, Seth apretando los dientes y observando casi sin pestañear como ella colocaba ambas manos en los hombros del masculino y comenzaba a rozarle. Él la sostuvo y la hizo girar conociendo sus intenciones, sin dudar yendo a tocar y acariciar el expuesto vientre mientras observaba al dios con sumo desafío. La llama del orgullo y la competencia se encendió en el pelirrojo, enseguida comprendiendo como era tan fácil que la gente peleara por ella cuando a ese punto, gracias al calor de las grandes antorchas y el baile, brillaba en leve sudor y poseía las mejillas sonrosadas como bellos granates.

—Te esperaré —indicó, el sonido no apreciándose entre la música y el bullicio.

Seth comprendió lo dicho por el movimiento de labios y observó como tiraba una pulsera a sus pies. Algunos se estiraron esperando tomarla, pero el chico la cubrió con una mano y los miró con tal severidad que retrocedieron.

Una vez que el evento terminó decidió esperar alguna señal, de golpe el accesorio comenzando a calentarse y enseñar cierta fuerza que lo impulsaba a seguir una dirección. Se dejó guiar entre un par de concurridas calles hasta doblar en un callejón, ahí la mujer aguardándolo contra una pared mientras se miraba las uñas.

—De todos los dioses, eras al que menos esperaba que viniera a verme.

—Supe de tu existencia hace poco, a diferencia del resto —explicó con cierta recriminación.

—Es entendible, según me dijeron tu ánimo es bastante volátil y agresivo —encogió los hombros como si no le importara demasiado—. ¿A que se debe la asistencia? —inclinó la cabeza acortando la distancia, pero pronto se vio incapacitada al arena envolver sus piernas.

—Como Dios de la Guerra y el Desierto, vengo a encargarme de los problemas que generas con tus conquistas.

Ella miró a un costado y rodó los ojos guardando silencio, a lo que Seth hizo un sonido con la garganta que la presionaba a hablar.

—¿Tienes algún lugar más privado?

Él lo consideró entrecerrando los ojos y pronto la tomó del brazo para hacerla desaparecer en un torbellino.

—Esto es… —dudó de seguir al ver lo que la rodeaba.

—Mi templo —terminó la frase mientras se despojaba del lino innecesario, el colorado cabello quedando libre y adornándole los hombros.

—Wow —exclamó mientras suavemente agarraba un mechón—. Podría crear tantas cosas bonitas para realzar el color, tan bello…

Seth la agarró de la muñeca en señal de advertencia, permitiendo que ella sonriera divertida y le lamiera la mano sin desviar la mirada.

—Cuidado o te cortaré la lengua.

Bufando, se liberó del agarre y le dio la espalda para dar elegantes trotes hacia las enormes escaleras que llevaban a la edificación principal. Las joyas e hilos de gemas que colgaban golpearon armoniosos en cada paso, de manera increíble brillando más que el oro cuando se acercaba a las antorchas.

—Es enorme, no me molestaría pasar algunas semanas aquí —rió traviesa mientras Seth la seguía a una buena distancia.

Los rojos ojos distinguían cada movimiento y admiraban todo lo que era, una necesidad de origen desconocido aumentando sin frenos desde que la divisó por primera vez.

—¿Acaso ofrecí que te quedaras?

—¿No quieres? Soy buena compañía —volteó para retroceder de espaldas—. ¿Sino por qué crees que quienes me conocen pelean por tenerme? —guiñó un ojo.

—Sexo.

—¿Si fuera solo eso por qué no se olvidan de mí una vez que me voy? ¿Qué los hace apegarse tanto? —aminoró la velocidad para quedar cerca—. Hoy mismo lo has visto, el publico se exalta con verme… Incluso tú.

Seth apretó los dientes en descontento y ella sacó la lengua en burla.

—¿Tienes el permiso de tu madre para relacionarte con dioses?

—Hace centenas de años que no necesito su aprobación —rió—. Hoy he hablado con ella y le dije que trataría de evitar generar caos. Quién sabe, tal vez pegarme al Dios de la Guerra sea la solución.

—Serás un dolor más que un placer.

La frase hizo que la femenina riera fuerte y luego fingiera una expresión de profunda reflexión.

—¿Tienes músicos? Tal vez un baile privado te cambie de opinión.

—Primero debemos resolver ciertas cuestiones —dijo indiferente, pero ella sabía bien que con un empujón caería—. ¿Cuál es tu nombre?

—Te lo diré dependiendo de lo que decidas luego de mi danza.

Él encajó la mandíbula detestando la ligereza con la que hablaba y el brillo malicioso de ambos ojos, la sonrisa permanente enervando sus nervios al lucir como si estuviera en control de la situación.

—¿Por qué vives como nómada haciendo espectáculos?

—Mortales o inmortales, cada ser nace con una familia a la cual puede apreciar como tal o no. Mi madre es una de las mejores cosas que me sucedieron y siempre estará en mi corazón, pero el resto realmente no importa mucho. Conocí gente de intereses compartidos y con quienes disfruto pasar los días, confían en mí y yo confío en ellos, así que los escogí —explicó con un nuevo aire rodeándola—. No abandonaré esa caravana, no cuando todos los que aprecio tienen fecha de caducidad.

—Tienes sentimientos poco propios de una divinidad.

—¿Qué es un dios sin humanidad? Si no entiendes a la gente que debes proteger, representar y servir, ¿cómo puedes ser un soberano empático y respetable? —preguntó con pura seriedad en los ojos—. Sé que nunca reinaré Egipto, pero eso no me hace indiferente a quienes me rezan.

—Por como hablas, no me surgen dudas de que eres cercana a Osiris e Isis.

—Bien pensado, ambos participaron mucho en mi crianza —cruzó los brazos poniendo peso en una cadera.

—Como sea —imitó su postura viéndola de arriba a abajo—. ¿Eres incapaz de ordenar a tus amantes que dejen de pelear por ti?

—La mayoría ni siquiera han podido tocarme un pelo, solo luchan por el mero deseo de querer hacerlo. He intervenido, pero quien realmente deberían ponerse a trabajar aquí es Nephthys y hacer que crezca la paz.

—No cuestiono aquello, deberían haber recurrido a ella desde un principio.

—Es tu hermana, si no actúa podrías pedírselo.

—¿Quién crees que soy? ¿Tú mensajero? —enarcó una ceja.

—Vaya —suspiró inclinando la cabeza—. ¿Entonces qué? ¿Nos acostamos y dejamos que el rumor corra para que los dioses se asusten?

—Realmente eres insistente ¿Tantos me deseas? —chasqueó la lengua para sonreír socarrón.

La pregunta arrancó una seca risa de la chica, quien se acercó.

—No voy a negar que eres sumamente atractivo, pero desde antes que asistieras al espectáculo sabía que ésta noche tenías ganas de pasarla bien. Si no me acompañas, iré a buscar quien me complazca.

Seth inspiró y le sostuvo la mirada, su corazón acelerándose y debiendo contenerse de desviar la vista por como parecía acercarlo al abismo.

—Creo que ofreciste bailar para cambiar mi opinión, ¿o no?

—Al fin pasamos a lo importante —dijo complacida retrocediendo un poco—. Guíame hacia tus músicos.

El masculino tomó la delantera y le hizo esperar mientras ingresaba a una habitación. Desde el exterior oyó como hombres y mujeres lo saludaban apurados, enseguida acatando sus ordenes y generando algunas notas accidentales en el proceso de trasladarse. Una considerable fila de personas salió y la observaron, ella sonriendo y apreciando acostumbrada como varios dejaban caer la mandíbula en sorpresa.

—¿Con qué se distraen? —preguntó Seth desde el fondo, su voz provocando que todos abandonaran la estupefacción y agitaran el paso.

—Si decides no tener sexo conmigo, me alegra saber que no tendré que buscar lejos.

Él le miró de reojo e inspiró profundo antes de lanzar el cabello hacia atrás.

—Vamos.

Caminaron con tranquilidad y el dios entró primero a una enorme habitación donde un inmenso colchón reposaba casi a nivel del suelo. Postes con enormes cortinas descansaban listas para tapar la cama del exterior, cuatro sirvientas prendiendo incienso y preparando alcohol antes de seguir cualquier otra instrucción.

—Suelten las telas laterales.

El pequeño grupo se apuró a cumplir y liberaron los nudos, solo dejando un sector descubierto.

—Interesante —comentó la diosa dando algunos pasos por el ambiente.

Los músicos llevaron sus instrumentos y se acomodaron donde los gruesos paños no podrían enseñarlos, la intención de solo observar a la invitada siendo clara.

—Preparate como desees —dijo Seth moviendo una mano de manera desinteresada antes de dirigirse a la cama y recostarse contra una gran montaña de almohadas.

Dos de las femeninas acercaron copas doradas llenas de vino, las cuales ambos aceptaron antes de que él ordenara que se fueran.

Bebió con tranquilidad y se acercó a los presentes para conversar el tipo de música que quería, ellos acatando cada palabra e intercambiando opiniones antes de llegar a un arreglo. Asintiendo en complicidad por solucionar aquel tema, se colocó a varios metros del lecho frente a donde estaba abierto.

—¿Listo?

—¿Tú lo estás? —enarcó una ceja mientras el incienso comenzaba a hacerse sentir.

Guiñando un ojo, tragó de una vez todo lo de su copa y luego la levantó en el aire. Ante la señal, los artistas comenzaron a tocar y ella le dio la espalda mientras mantenía el brazo extendido por sobre su cabeza.

Meciendo despacio las caderas de lado a lado, el oro que sostenía comenzó a derretirse y cambiar de forma. Chorreó por su brazo hasta formar una pequeña cabeza y luego un alargado cuerpo, la recién nacida serpiente enrollándose y bajando hasta posarse en el cuello. Poniendo ambas manos en tan sensible zona, de a poco giró y sonrió cerrando los ojos para permitir que el sonido la llevara a donde debía. Se acarició las clavículas y los hombros antes de extender los brazos, el ficticio animal moviéndose por su pecho y rodeándola, de pronto un sector del lino cayendo y revelando un seno.

Como si nada hubiera sucedido, ella continuó con lo que bien sabía hacer mientras el metal acariciaba y abrazaba cada parte en el proceso de descender. Sus decoradas muñecas y dedos rozaban la piel y creaban perfectos movimientos en al aire, varios de los presentes perdiéndose en los vaivenes hasta que contuvieron el aliento cuando la serpiente llegó a la prenda que escudaba la mayor intimidad.

Sin importarle nada, ella volteó y colocó ambas manos en la zona posterior de sus piernas para arrastrarlas hacia arriba y cuidadosamente levantar un poco del paño. La serpiente enrolló una de las palmas al muslo para que no pudiera quitarla, de esa forma aprovechando a meterse bajo la falda.

Un murmullo del lado izquierdo se escuchó y la femenina miró sobre el hombro para apreciar como Seth no despegaba la mirada, pero que una de sus cejas realizaba una contracción involuntaria al comentario que ella llegó a escuchar. Lanzó la cabeza hacia atrás y doblo el cuerpo hasta el punto de casi poder verlo, con los dedos libres acariciando desde el vientre hasta al seno libre y apretarlo.

La cola del animal fue soltándola de a poco y ella giró para enseñar como ésta salía por el frente y empezaba a subir, así arrastrando la tela hasta el borde de mostrar su entrepierna. De todos modos, no daría tal panorama e hizo que ligeramente cambiara de dirección y fuera de una forma donde no tirara de más. Giró sobre uno de sus pies reconociendo que pronto llegaría un fuerte golpe de tambor, en ese instante cayendo de rodillas con las manos extendidas y todo el cabello hacia delante.

De a poco fue irguiéndose y los músicos apreciaron los movimientos para acomodar el ritmo, al sentarse separando las piernas y sentándose entre ellas. Conectó miradas y sintió como el rojo de sus irises quemaba, provocando que sonriera antes de voltear el rostro y ver a una de las mujeres que antes llamó su atención. Era bonita y toda una tentación si Seth decidía dejarla ir, en menos de un segundo pensando qué decirle para seducirla hasta que la voz del dios resonó.

Todos salieron del trance y frenaron lo que hacían, los músicos juntando rápidamente los instrumentos para abandonar la habitación. En un par de minutos quedaron a solos y la femenina se acercó al pie de la cama, donde inclinó la cabeza viéndolo intrigada.

—¿No te gustó la presentación?

Seth inspiró profundo y bebió hasta la última gota de vino, de esa forma descartando la copa fuera de la cama con un fuerte sonido. Acomodó mejor su cuerpo y movió el dedo índice en una moción que decía que se acercara, ella sonriendo y dando unos pasos en la cama antes de ponerse en cuatro. Gateó hacia él hasta quedar encima, la serpiente irguiéndose curiosa y traspasándose al cuerpo del pelirrojo mientras se observaban en silencio.

—Fue irrespetuoso observar a otra persona cuando debías convencerme a mí.

—¿Por eso cortaste el baile? Solo analizaba la mejor opción si decidías pasar de tal increíble oportunidad —justificó antes de acercarse más y dejar ambos rostros a pocos centímetros—. ¿Cuál es tu respuesta?

Manteniendo silencio unos momentos, colocó la mano derecha en su cabeza para extinguir toda distancia. Ambos pares de labios se encontraron y no tardaron en enredarse, los del masculino sintiéndose increíblemente suaves entre el aroma del vino que bebieron.

—Cuando decidiste conocerme, ¿habías planeado ésto? —preguntó al separarse, él acariciándole la parte baja de la espalda.

—No, ni siquiera sabía quien eras.

—¿Entonces?

—Eres la primer descendiente de Hathor y ella celosamente te ocultaba de mí, solo fue curiosidad —respondió—. ¿Tú? ¿Por qué me diste la pulsera?

—¿No es obvio? Me atrajiste desde el momento en que te vi, definitivamente quería que compartiéramos cama.

Seth hizo una pequeña sonrisa de costado y tiró hacia atrás el cabello con las líneas de gemas entrelazadas, su mano cerrándose como una coleta en aquel brillante manojo.

—¿Cuál es tu nombre? —preguntó viéndola de una manera muy diferente, desde cerca su increíble aspecto deslumbrándolo muchísimo más.

Ella sonrió e inclinó la cabeza fijándose en una de las cortinas como si estuviera pensando si debía revelar tal información, pero terminó por voltear y besar la palma que reposaba en su mejilla.

—Habibah, significa “aquella que es amada” —confesó, con una sola mirada riendo en complicidad.

—Tu madre realmente sabía lo que hacía, porque es lo que todos parecen hacer cuando te conocen.

—¿Incluso el Dios de la Guerra y el Desierto?

—No soy como el resto, ¿crees poder lograr algo como eso? —dijo con un dejo de competencia, pero sonaba más como una invitación a continuar lo que empezaron.

Aceptando el reto y todo lo que implicada, lo besó introduciendo la lengua y Seth tensó el agarre para enseguida tomarla de la cintura. Acarició la caliente piel y luego empujó hacia abajo, de esa forma ambas entrepiernas encontrándose y ella logrando sentir la erección. Con ninguna duda empezó a mover las caderas y el masculino soltó un pequeño suspiro complacido, sus dedos aventurándose a sostenerla del trasero.

Habibah pasó una mano entre los mechones rojos y luego descendió, despacio recorriendo el pecho hasta centrarse en uno de los pezones. Seth apretó los dientes y deshizo el prendedor de la tela superior, pronto acariciando lo que hubiera a alcance y ordenando que se acostara.

Sin cuestionar ella movió algunas almohadas y descansó contra el mullido colchón, ahí viendo como la serpiente se enrollaba en el brazo del hombre en un perfecto y hermoso accesorio. Él apenas tomó conciencia del oro y se enfocó en regresar las atenciones, Habibah cerrando e inspirando profundo cuando arribó a sus senos con los labios. Le acarició hombros y espalda, apenas arañando mientras lo sentía arder como el desierto bajo el sol y se concentraba en consumir cada cosa que tocaba.

El incienso empezaba a hacer efecto y aligeraba sus mentes, el deseo abriéndose camino de forma intensa y provocando que se sostuvieran con fuerza y urgencia. Ambas caderas empezaron a buscarse de manera frenética hasta el punto de que jadeaban contra el otro en rotos besos, las piernas y brazos entrelazándose en una conexión sin inicio o fin.

Habibah filtró una mano entre ambos y buscó con gran necesidad la erección, a la cual atendió con hábiles movimientos hasta que levantó la tela que tapaba su intimidad. Seth puso distancia y se apoyó en las rodillas deshaciendo la escasa vestidura y dejándola a un lado antes de encargarse de ella. Completamente desnudos y con solo joyas decorándolos, la femenina se acomodó mejor mientras él la tomaba de las piernas y la arrastraba a arriba de sus muslos. El movimiento arrancó una pequeña risa de Habibah y él le miró con ansiosa oscuridad en el proceso de acariciarle la cara exterior de las piernas.

—Hazlo —animó ella rozándole el estómago con una mano.

Seth apretó el agarre dejando momentáneas marcas y la soltó para tomar su erección, con un solo movimiento ingresando la cabeza y luego empujando a buen ritmo hasta el fondo. Ambos gimieron y la femenina lanzó la cabeza hacia atrás con una gran sonrisa, su espalda separándose del colchón mientras tiraba de las sabanas.

—Si que estás húmeda —gruñó con los pómulos sonrosados en satisfacción.

—L-Lo dices como si fuera algo extraño, ¿acaso las mujeres no se excitan contigo?

Ella tembló en emoción y placer cuando una filosa mirada roja se filtró entre los cabellos fuego, con un intenso cosquilleo viéndolo divertida hasta que casi gritó cuando él comenzó a arremeter. Quedó sin aire y trató de recomponerse con un sonido de pura sorpresa, calor y placer expandiéndose como olas desde el centro a cada rincón de su cuerpo.

—No deberías competir con el Dios de la Guerra —dijo luciendo una expresión orgullosa.

—No me importa perder —respondió sincera, pero al mismo tiempo sabiendo que aquello solo encendería más la llama.

Seth entrecerró los ojos y enseguida recobró la compostura, con falsa calma poniendo ambas manos en el colchón y ella cerrando las piernas alrededor de él. Ondeó las caderas sintiendo el falo pesar y el masculino regresó a moverse con gran potencia luego de un filoso siseo, Habibah acercándolo desde la nuca para besarlo. Sintió la lengua ingresar y tembló por como tomaba el control, las embestidas siendo constantes con una resistencia propia de una persona que batalló incontables veces para defender Egipto.

Con ojos llorosos, admiró al hombre que se movía sobre ella y le corrió el pelo con ganas de verlo mejor, en ese instante notando los aros que se movían violentos al compás de su dueño.

—Te haré unos más lindos —dijo rozando la fina y rectangular placa de oro.

—¿Cómo puedes pensar en eso en medio del sexo?

—Tal vez deberías esforzarte —presionó, a los segundos sintiendo como el ambiente cambiaba.

La habitación cayó en silencio y la piel de Habibah se erizó al considerar que había cometido un error.

—Date la vuelta —ordenó mientras salía de ella, aunque no esperó a que se moviera y la agarró del brazo empezando a acomodarla.

—Ya lo hago —dijo apurada por la insistencia, al apoyarse en manos y rodillas notando que arena se filtraba por debajo de las cortinas—. ¿Qué…?

Cualquier duda desapareció al nuevamente perder la capacidad de respirar, Seth introduciéndose de golpe y sosteniéndola del cuello con una considerada fuerza. Quedó como pez fuera del agua e intentó agarrarle la muñeca, pero la arena hizo que dejara las manos pegadas a la cama.

—Tal actitud con alguien que ha nacido muchísimo antes que tú es muy inadecuado —gruñó con sus abdominales tensos, de a poco cambiando el ángulo para rozar el punto que la volvería loca—. Hablar menos y aprender te haría muy bien.

Involuntariamente los ojos de Habibah quedaron en blanco cuando él encontró el área más débil de su intimidad, las piernas queriendo ceder y no pudiendo caer gracias a la fuerza con que la agarraba.

—Se… th… —llamó mientras los músculos se sacudían de una forma nunca antes vivida.

—¿Hm? —preguntó dejando de cortar la circulación de sangre.

Algo de conciencia regresó a la femenina e intentó pedir un tiempo por como estaba reaccionando a las perfectas administraciones, pero, a propósito, Seth puso más empeñó y evitó que pudiera hablar.

Maldijo por dentro y dejó caer la cabeza, su humedad escurriéndose por los muslos y apenas manchando las sabanas. Él la agarró de las caderas para más estabilidad y la arena se enrolló en el cuello, el que picara solo acentuando el efecto del placer y la estrangulación. Cualquier grito y gemido quedó ahogado o salió cortado, algunos jadeos logrando abandonarla mientras él respiraba pesado y ocasionalmente gruñía en profunda satisfacción.

Tratando de tragar y adorando cuando le costó hacerlo, Habibah se concentró por un breve segundo y puso la serpiente en movimiento. Las caderas de Seth perdieron ritmo, y sobre el hombro ella miró como rápidamente la dorada criatura se sostenía firme alrededor de la garganta del pelirrojo.

—D-Dos… —trató de hablar, y a propósito él aflojó la arena—. Dos pueden jugar… este juego —sonrió orgullosa, aunque enseguida rodó los ojos y cayó apoyándose en ambos codos.

El masculino inspiró como pudo, el metal no cediendo ni un poco y aumentando sus propias sensaciones.

—Sabía que serías un dolor si t-te traía al templo —gruñó con el ceño fruncido.

Habibah trató de reír, pero un sonido extraño salió mientras apreciaba como el orgasmo empezaba a formarse.

—Pero tam… también te doy... placer —defendió, sus pulmones ardiendo un poco y forzando el oro para que sufriera lo mismo que ella.

Una queja desesperada y frustrada surgió del hombre, quien apreció como la constricción generaba que ondas eléctricas viajaran a la erección. Encajó la mandíbula y lanzó la cabeza hacia atrás, con nueva urgencia arremetiendo contra la chica para provocar el éxtasis que empezaba a asomarse como una explosión.

Ambos parecían haber perdido poder en sus conciencias y cuerpos mientras se movían, sumamente abrumados necesitando la liberación de todo el placer que los consumía. Estaban a punto de desmayarse, cada tanto permitiendo algo de tranquilidad a los cuellos antes de en segundos devolverlos a la privación.

Los espasmos de Habibah se intensificaron y logró expresar el clímax que abrió un nuevo mundo de goce, sus piernas temblando incontrolables entre sonidos lascivos al la humedad haber aumentado considerablemente con la liberación. Era excesivo y Seth no pudo soportar el ser apresado por aquellas paredes, tal reacción y estímulo llevándolo al límite y terminando dentro de la femenina. Tembló y gimió alto, con cierta dificultad dando las últimas estocadas hasta que la estimulación fue demasiada y frenó.

Tanto el metal como la arena se aflojaron y los dos respiraron acelerado y pesado, con los parpados bajos dejándose caer en el colchón apreciando la comodidad. Habibah estaba boca abajo y de a poco volteó a ver al hombre, que tenía un brazo cruzado en la frente mientras se estabilizaba. Lucía igual o más hermoso que antes, su perfecto perfil siendo de envidia con tan bello color de ojos y cabello a los cuales amaría resaltar con varias creaciones.

—Eso estuvo bien —suspiró la joven mientras levantaba los brazos y se estiraba.

Seth le observó y sin saberlo hizo lo mismo que ella, en silencio admirando la belleza que con un solo vistazo logró capturarlo. Conversaron un poco y decidieron que esa sería la única ronda que tendrían, aunque sus bocas no se salvaron de enredarse con algunos roces extras de las escurridizas manos. En algún punto cayeron dormidos y el sol estaba en lo alto cuando el chico entreabrió los ojos, muy somnoliento tomando conciencia de su alrededor bien pasados unos cuantos minutos. Esencias florales inundaron su nariz y no reconoció ninguna como algo que poseyera, en ese momento mirando a ambos costados y notando que no había presencia de Habibah. Arrugó el ceño y se sentó listo para levantarse y averiguar si tuvo el atrevimiento de dejarlo, pero entonces oyó un ruido en la habitación y cauteloso corrió las cortinas.

De espaldas a la ventana, la diosa se miraba en el espejo mientras aplicaba un tipo de aceite a su rostro. El cabello lo tenía mojado y tirado hacia atrás, el sol que entraba y la iluminaba dándole de lleno para exitosamente eliminar la humedad con rapidez. Se hallaba visiblemente concentrada y no tomó conciencia de que Seth despertó hasta que sus descalzos pies hicieron leve ruido en el suelo.

—Buenos días —sonrió mientras se pasaba perfume.

—Veo que encontraste los baños.

—Si, después del espectáculo y nuestro enredo necesitaba asearme.

—Aún tengo la pulsera que me lanzaste.

—Es tuya —dijo viendo el objeto—. Con ella, si algún día estás aburrido y me extrañas, podrás encontrarme donde sea que esté y repetir lo de anoche —guiñó un ojo con aire pícaro.

Seth chasqueó la lengua y miró el accesorio sintiendo como se le retorcía el estómago, las piedras brillando tanto como ella al sol.

—Lo tendré en cuenta.

—Aún así, deberás estar preparado para cuando mi madre te vea usando algo mío —advirtió mientras estiraba el cuello y veía las marcas que él provocó.

—No podrá hacer mucho —restó importancia poniendo una mano en su cadera—. ¿Te irás a la caravana?

—Si, debo avisar que estoy bien y lista para la presentación de ésta noche.

—¿Cuánto tiempo permanecerán en la ciudad?

—Hasta la próxima luna llena.

Guardaron silencio y él cruzó los brazos, por un momento mirando hacia la ventana y el claro cielo.

—Quédate.

—¿Cómo? —elevó ambas cejas admirando su cincelado rostro.

—Durante la noche no duermas en la caravana, ven aquí.

—¿Todos los días? —preguntó sorprendida.

Seth asintió y ella pestañeó consternada antes de asentir rápido.

—Me encantaría, gracias.

—Iré a bañarme, haz lo que desees en el templo.

—¿Los problemas están incluidos? —inquirió maliciosa, y él inclinó la cabeza.

—No.

—Pero…

—En caso contrario, te castigaré.

—De alguna forma aquello suena muy prometedor, tal vez deberías darme una lección —rió divertida y seductora.

—Recién me levanto —dijo en medio de un bostezo, el rezago de anoche aún notándose—. Nos vemos después.

—Por supuesto, te despediré antes de irme.

Viendo su espalda, Habibah abandonó cualquier fachada y sonrió astuta al saber a la perfección que el hombre estaba cayendo por ella. No era diferente a cualquier otro humano o divinidad, pero sin dudas Seth era quien realmente quería y al que le daría todo si terminaba rindiéndose a sus pies.

#ennead #seth #manhwa #smut #oneshot #egypt mythology #seth x reader #imagine #imagines #oneshots #reaction #reactions #egyptian gods #x reader #ennead x reader #god x reader

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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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bruhhxiao · 5 months

Text

Being with Anubis (sfw/nsfw)

Ennead Anubis x gn!civilian!reader

! Warnings: violence(?), smut, a bit of possessiveness. No use of y/n !

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As your and Anubis relationship started to grow you started to think how you guys meet.He was pretty cold and distant at the start, never spoke. You guys meet at night. You were about to finish your family work. It was pretty late and you were heading home but you got attacked by a huge snake, you covered you face by the fear as the snake proceeded to attack, but it didn’t… you raised your head and you saw a pale hand holding into the snake “neck”. He threw it away. He didn’t say a word a walked away.

“wait… please wait! I should thank you properly.”

You get up by yourself and followed him but he placed his long curved stick in front of him, avoiding letting you come closer.

You started to pray and gift him fruits, meat and sometimes money even though your family had financial issues. You would place the gifts in front of his little statue you had in you house but he never took them. Until one night you had a nightmare, you cried in your sleep calling for help but when you opened you eyes you saw a tall figure standing beside your bed you screamed in fear but he suddenly rested his hand on top of your head, when you heard your mother calling your name checking if everything was okay he disappeared in his shadow.

After you had your nightmare he started checking on you while you slept, one time he thought you were dead when you were deep asleep exhausted from work, he lowered down with his ear near to your mouth. As you turned around he would jump a bit by surprise and he stepped back a bit looking a bit confused at your shivering body. He covered you with the blanket that had fallen on the ground staring a few seconds more shaking his head while disappearing.

One day you were taking a bath in the pond playing with fallen leafs. You toke a big breath and you dipped your head under the water, rinsing your hair from the natural products you had used to clean it. Once done you were about to step out Anubis was behind you sitting on a rock staring at you. You sat in the water covering you body and screaming embarrassed, he didn’t look away in fact he just leaned his head on the side like a confused poppy. You yelled at him even though he was there to protect you, a man on his 40s was watching you, he was hiding behind a tree but when the man met Anubis gaze under his mask he became pale as snow, runnig away and shaking in fear. You looked back at the God and he got up walking towards you with a veil of linen, you asked him where he got that from but the only thing he did was kneeling down to meet you eye even though his eyes were hidden by the mask, he leaned the veil to you waiting. Your cheeks almost as red as a ruby you took it and he walked away disappearing into the nature. It passed sometime since you last saw Anubis so you went to his temple but it was empty and dark, you walked inside even though you were scared. You walked to his statue looking behind you. Something grabbed your hand pushing you into the statue but you didn’t hit the hard worked sculpture… your back bumped into a warm strong chest as muscular arms hugged your waist from behind. You looked back it was Anubis making a sign to stay silent so you did. Light air cleaned your lungs as the wind blowed you hair, he stepped back you realized you weren’t in the temple but you were in Duat! He was staring at you waiting for the motivation of your visit.

“it- it’s been a while since I last saw y-“ he cutted you off ”Humans and Gods shouldn’t get along.” He said firmly.

It was the first time you heard his voice and you weren’t expecting something like that, you heart skipped a beat, your throat was tight and you eyes were shiny almost puffy. He pushed your shoulder and you fell into the darkness. You woke up in your bed the next day.

You were carrying a basket full of fruit thinking about Anubis that left you a few months ago lost in your thoughts you tripped. Roots start to grow around your ankle. “he’s gone soft for you?” you heard but no one was around. A hole opened under you as roots dragged you inside. You opened you eye you were hanging upside down. “You got yourself a human, son?” You heard falling down almost crushing on the ground Anubis catches you holding you thigh. His jaw clenched as he jumped and cutted root by root as they grown around you he pushed you into a black hole but you grabbed his hand, your back hit the ground he landed on top of you. He got on his arms, teeth showing in anger “I told you humans and go-“ he didn’t have time to finish that your hand hit his cheek. If it was someone else they wouldn’t had time to raise their hand but you were different, he felt pain this time, his heart hurt. “I was so scared!” You told him hitting your hysterical crying. He sat on his knees and pulled you by your arm, he pulled you into his bare chest gently gripping on your hair as you hit his shoulder. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair! You can show up whenever you want and leave for months! But why can’t I look out for you!” His eyes widened by your request.

He took off his mask showing his curly black hair, his face brushing on your left shoulder as he hold you in his chest. He backed away pulled your chin up you didn’t have time to realize that his warm, plump lips hit yours kissing you gently as he caressed you right cheek. Whenever you tried to speak or pull away he kissed you more holding you tight. He lies on top you caressing your body and face tracing sweet lines to your upper to lower body. His hand playing with your vest, as his hips slowly moved against yours. Sweet moans left you mouth as you tried to suppress them, he bit you neck and collarbone working with his finger on your intimacy. He pushes two fingers inside telling you he couldn’t hold it in for much longer. Your hip grinding on them after the pain became pleasure, he was gentle, he was holding back making you first as special as you deserve.

“mine, mine.” He mumbled against your skin.

His eyes looking into yours as he positioned himself between your legs he bumped his nose into yours as he pulled his tip in. Making you groan in pain, he kisses your chin to your ear as he pulled all in, your body arched blood boiling into your veins. He holds your left hand as he trusts working in your insides holding your right leg on his shoulder, you called his name as he speeded up. Hot moan hit your neck as he speed up, he grabs your hips as he knelt trusting deep inside of you. You reached your orgasm holding tight on his wrists, he throws his head back as you ate his member, his trust slowed down but he worked deep, you were about to cum again. He holds you kissing your puffy lips tasting you, feeling you as your tongues touched each others. He trusted one last time, your body trembled at his orgasm. He lies on top of you kissing your tears away, gently trusting. He laid on the side, out of breath, he pulled you into his arms placing his mask on your head.

“Mine”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

HENLOO! It’s my first time writing here! English is not my first language so I apologize if there are some grammar mistakes!

#ennead #anubis #god anubis #ennead anubis #ennead anubis x reader #Fictional characters #ennead x reader #seth x reader #hours x reader #ancient egypt #Anubis x gn! reader #manhwa #manwha characters x reader

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the-archxr · 2 years

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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

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•••

“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.”

•••

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januaryembrs · 5 months

Text

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Reader [9]

Description: Layla, Steven and Dove set off towards Ammit’s tomb across the dunes, only Steven and Dove have a heavy confession they’ve each been meaning to make.

Word count: 10.8k

Trigger warnings: MINORS DNI. 18+. SMUT UNDER THE CUT. (What the heck) Fingering, F!reader, blood, flares, guns, canon level murder. Hints at grooming (not between Steven/Marc obviously), hints at toxic relationship. (Based on Last Night in Soho dir. Edgar Wright)

Authors note: I have never written anything smutty in my life, I hope this is okay. It kinda hit me out of no where. Also there will be a full smut chapter when the series is finished as a little treat.

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Life seemed to have this horribly funny way of ripping goodness out of Dove’s hands.

Just as Layla had found a match on her tablet for the constellations, coordinates popping up on the screen like a digital bat signal, Khonshu gave a groan of pain even a god couldn’t hold back. He dropped to his knees, one of his boney hands falling to steady himself on the warm sand, the other jutted into the night sky to hold the stars where they watched him weaken.

Dove watched in frozen shock as in a matter of seconds he slipped away into the darkness, though dragged seemed a better term for it.

The Ennead had imprisoned him, just as they said they would.

A flash of relief ripped through Dove as she watched the cruel god slip away, finally freeing the shackles he held around her Steven. A prison that kept him scared, kept him quiet, even more so than that of his own body, was gone.

Though with that went his suit, she thought with a moment of abject horror, frozen in her limbs as if waiting for her god to be ripped from her too.

Her breath caught against her chest, waiting, waiting to be freed from the chains around her legs, the leash around her neck. She wanted this over, wanted to be a gift shoppist again more than anything. She would take hours of Donna’s shrill voice berating her over merchandise any day than this sense of ownership he held over her.

Because if it was just Khonshu imprisoned, the mission would fall onto her shoulders. And she couldn’t do any of this alone, any of it without Steven. She could do none of it without Marc. She would be alone in this again.

She’d rather die than live long enough to see either of them hurt for real this time.

Just get it over with. She near begged the gods. I can’t be the one to save them. I couldn’t even save her, I’m not the one you want for this.

That is, until she watched Steven’s legs give out from beneath him and his eyes roll to the back of his lids, his body going limp, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach.

“Steven-Steven!” Dove called, lunging to grab him under the arms to hold him steady. But it was no use. His breath gave a rattled huff, his body completely yielding to unconsciousness, nearly toppling her over herself had she not put a hand out to stop the two of them face planting into the course sand.

Hoisting him over to his back, she brought a hand up to his cheek, his eyes flickering closed in REM, shaking his head with more care than she knew she should. She couldn’t find it in herself to strike him any harsher.

Layla fell to her knees beside her, more forceful with her shoves as she pushed his muscled body with a desperate sort of anger, begging him for the both of them to wake up.

“Marc? Marc, come on!” The other woman yelled, bunching his jumper in her fists until her knuckles turned just as white as the alabaster fabric, “Come on! Where are you?”

Then she heard it. Dove felt her ears prick up, an engine stuttering in the distance, tires crunching over sand, a metal rattling of bodywork against a motor.

A car. A truck, full of bodies. Full of guns.

She could hear the bullets rattling in their chambers, hear the men’s breathing, jeering to one another.

Harrow’s men. Or maybe even Mogart’s. She didn’t know anymore. She just knew they spelled danger.

“We have to go,” Dove said exasperated, scrambling to her feet despite the sand shifting under their weight as the sounds approached, “We need to leave now.”

“Leave him, they won’t shoot him if he already looks dead,” Layla huffed, dropping Steven’s arm, grabbing the scruff of Dove’s collar ferociously, “Leave him,”

“We can’t leave him, what if they fire for good measure?” Dove asked, smacking Layla’s hand away from her with a scowl, “I’m not leaving him-”

A blinding light lit up their faces, their heads snapping to where headlights lit up the dunes surrounding them. The wind seemed to hold its breath as the women stood, spooked deers with targets on their backs.

“Stop being so god damn stubborn for once,” Layla seethed, grabbing the younger woman’s arm tight enough to pinch, “We’ll come back for him in a second, now move,”

It took everything in her to listen.

She was all but dragged into a run towards their own vehicle where they had been piecing together the map not even twenty minutes earlier. She hated how funny time was like that.

They waited on bated breaths, hoping the truck would drive past them with no consequence, no interference.

Though of course, that would never happen. That would be too kind.

Bullets whistled past their legs, something bigger than the pistol Layla had held from what Dove could tell, something made for killing quickly, killing messily.

The women winced hearing the trucks engine slow to a low rumble, carefully rolling down the dune as it shot blindly into the dark where they ducked behind the body of their car, Layla’s breath panting loudly in her ear.

She felt her heartbeat in her throat, praying on everything she’d ever believed in that they didn’t see Steven, that they didn’t shoot Layla. It was redundant worrying about herself, though part of her wondered if the God of chaos had been forced into a ushabti too, she wasn’t willing to figure it out by throwing herself in front of the barrel of the gun.

Layla reached up for the cold metal of the handle, clicking it open and practically forcing Dove in by the scruff of the neck into the wagon end of the truck, the grains of sand crunching under her boots as she lay still, waiting for the truck to hopefully pass.

Clambering in after her and shutting the door quietly, Layla ducked down next to her, the sound of their exhausted breaths cutting through the quiet night. She had faced worse than these men, than this one big gun, yet she felt without Marc there to tell her where to hit them, without Steven there to hold her face and tell her how brave she was, she was nothing.

“I saw them running!” One of the men called out, the two women freezing in their spots, “Check around the truck!”

The flickering of the headlights filtered in through the dirty truck windows, dust smattering the glass though Dove still got a clear view of the vehicle cruising around them, circling like a shark in bloodied waters, searching for the rest of the kill.

She felt Layla tense next to her when her boot hit something near the door, a red satchel with a muddied flame printed on the front.

Flames. Fire. There was a crate full of ammunition she could hear rattling around the back of that truck which only meant one thing. Gunpowder.

“Layla,” She whispered, grabbing the woman’s arm and pointing to the red bag, “Are there matches in there?”

“Flares- why?” Layla murmured back, a scowl on her face at the stupidity of the girl to be talking.

Dove hesitated a moment, keeping an eye on the truck as it rolled past them and looped back towards where Steven lay unconscious still. They didn’t have alot of time left. They would surely shoot at him to be sure, and without the suit anymore-

“There’s bullets in that truck,” Dove whispered, meeting the woman’s eyes through what little light the stars gave them, “Flares set on fire when you pull them right?”

Layla’s scowl seemed to drop as she understood what the girl was suggesting. The woman scrambled for the satchel, ripping the zip open to reveal six red, waxy tubes, the metal hooks hanging off as the triggers.

Shoving one into Dove’s hands, she took one for herself, head snapping to the girl nearly ten years her younger.

“You know what you’re doing?” Layla murmured, the two of them looking through the front windscreen where the headlights seemed to zero in on Steven. Steven, who was running out of time. Steven, who would throw himself in front of endless amounts of guns if it meant she was safe. Steven, who would wake up any second now and meet his end in the middle of no where because she wasn’t fast enough.

“You throw yours to get them away from him, I’ll go after them,” She replied hushedly, her hand opening the door quietly, sliding forwards until her legs dangled off the edge of the carriage. That is until a hand latched onto her shoulder to drag her back.

Her head whipped over her shoulder, worried they had been seen already, only to see Layla’s brown eyes unsure. Remorse ate away at her expression, twitching her eyebrows, scrunching her mouth bitterly.

“You had better be careful,” Layla bit, though Dove knew what the meaning beneath it was. Don’t die. Don’t get hurt. I’m sorry for what I said.

Dove nodded, dropping onto the sand silently, waiting for Layla to slip out of and throw her flare away from Steven.

She lost sight of the woman, her soft, tight curls bouncing around the corner of the truck, her own fingers crossing that the woman would stay far out of harm. She knew she was sorry, knew Layla had a way of exploding at her because she was the easiest target, she was the only one who would actually give her the reaction she’d wanted. She’d always known that hurt people, hurt people. And that’s all Layla was. Hurt, at the fact her ex-husband seemed to dodge every phone call, spill every lie, brush off every argument. She couldn’t say she agreed with how Marc handled the subject of Layla, but in the same way she was hurt, Marc was hurt too.

It’s just who they were.

Seeing a flash of red fly into the dunes, and the rumble of the truck's engine as it practically turned on two wheels and flew towards the commotion, shooting at the flare in the hopes of hitting one of them. She saw where the sand sprayed behind the wheels, stepping out behind their car and drawing her arm back for the shot.

Pulling the metal hook out of its socket, a small crack like a party popper sounded from the palm of her hand, and the red flame sprayed out the end. Before the men even had time to switch the gun onto her, she’d thrown it towards the rear of their vehicle, where she now saw a heavy artillery weapon, the clink and rattle of bullets rolling in the seat as the car came to a stop in front of Layla’s distraction.

She heard a shout of shock as her flare made contact, bouncing into the rear, before a white spark flew into the air and fizzled, like a star reaching its supernova within the inky black night.

She worried for a moment that that was it, that was all her brilliant plan could give, until ten more shots of the same ivory light flew into the sky, a crackle lingering in the truck before a huge ball of flame engulfed the car whole. Yells of fright from the passengers were cut off with one final whoosh and the yellow blaze licked into the black once more, silencing whatever protests the men had.

They had died. They had burned at her hand. And yet, thinking back to how suddenly they could have stuffed Steven full of bullets, she struggled to fight the relief that had filled her body.

Steven.

Spinning on her heel, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she collided with a hard body, one that seemed to have watched the conflict splayed all over her face in the warmth of the fire. She readied herself to shove them away, to call Layla for help, until she snapped out of her haze and saw a very tired, very sandy face that looked at her as if he’d seen an archangel lighting his way.

Steven.

She said nothing, though she wanted to tell him how pretty his eyes looked in the dark. She wanted to tell him how she’d thought of him every single day since the day they’d met, that he’d be the one to drag her out of the shadows that smothered her, that if there was one thing that could take away her pain, her sorrow, that could make her feel alive again, it was him.

But she didn’t. Because there weren't enough words, wasn’t enough time, to tell him how she felt.

So she pulled him into the tightest hug she could muster instead.

She felt her breath leave her when his arms went around her waist, nose burrowing into her neck, sighing. She didn’t care he was dirty, so was she, didn’t care that he was breathing so close to her skin, she revelled in it in fact. Her every hair stood on end as he kissed her shoulder, bare from where her shirt had ripped, kissed it again for good measure, her whole body shivering under his lips. He was so warm compared to her, she’d felt cold ever since that night she’d died, like a constant reminder she was just a body, and he was so full of life. He was so Steven it filled her heart until she thought it would come running out of her eyes in tears.

“I missed you so much,” He whispered in her ear, as if utterly unaware how receptive she would be to the sound of his voice, “I thought I was going crazy,”

“You’re never crazy, not to me,” She murmured back, feeling him kiss her cheek.

She begged him to kiss her lips next. God she’d missed him. She wanted him more than the syrupy air they stood in, had a greed for him she’d never known before. One kiss hadn’t been enough, she needed more.

She needed all of him.

The pit in her stomach that had laid stagnant for weeks, that had been a dormant pit flared with heat as he pulled away from her, his eyes soppy and dizzy as he watched her, her heart caving in through her chest.

She could kiss him right there and he would kiss her back. She didn’t know how she knew it but she did.

Sighing as she heard Layla shuffling behind her, crawling out of her hiding place behind the truck, she tilted her head forwards until it met his forehead, the feeling of her nose brushing against his having her squeeze him tighter.

“I missed you too, Steven,” She whispered, feeling his body tense as her words fell in blankets on his lips.

Her mouth was right there for the taking, his head screamed to him. Her plush lips were seconds away from his, the scene he’d imagined for himself over and over and over was right there.

Yet they both pulled away, meeting each other's longing gaze once more before they turned back to the truck.

The drum and bass was pounding in her chest, constricting her throat. Her top rode up her stomach, breasts hiked up enough to touch her chin, the mini shorts hugging her legs much too tight for comfort. But this was what they paid for. For her.

It wasn’t so bad as far as nightclubs went. It was fast paced which kept her shifts moving quick, the drinks were easy to memorise, and for the most part she was behind a thick bar that separated her from the handsier customers. But tonight she was on shot duty, her job was to entice as many willing buyers into slamming little vials of jäger that would only drain their wallets. She knew it was unethical, knew she should have more shame, but life was shit like that sometimes.

Matty had brought home a whole baby, Billie, who she loved more than life itself, though the poor little girl couldn’t escape the colic no matter how hard the five of them rocked her, burped her, winded her. She kept them up most nights, and who’d have thought babies were so expensive.

Billie and Matty alone took the majority of their funds, if not the bills on the house, if not them then it was Sammy being bailed out of the holding cell every other weekend for “disturbing public peace”, that one she could believe.

Joey, her clever clever boy, had managed to get a scholarship to see him through most of university, but that didn’t negate the fact he was so busy with his extra classes, being the genius child he was, he hadn’t the time for an extra job to contribute to the family.

And then there was Mikey.

Mikey, who she had pretended to ignore came home with bloodshot eyes or a manic sort of excitement, or a slackened jaw. Mikey, who had done what he did best and tried to make friends, only to get mixed with the wrong crowd and end up addicted. Mikey, who needed to be sent to the very expensive rehab downtown quickly if they had any chance of pulling him out of this habit before he found himself too deep.

Times were tough, eighteen-year-old Dove liked to think she was tougher.

She pretended to ignore the way the men’s eyes trailed her body like a public footpath, barely any acknowledgement in their eyes that she was human and not just a nice ass and a tight top. She pretended they didn’t brush against her one too many times for it to be an accident, or even the fact they tipped her bigger if they were brave enough to brazenly touch her stomach, the soft of her arms, the plushness of her legs as she walked through the sea of dancers.

They began to blur into one horrid mess of men she choked out thanks to as they handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change.

“You’re worth more than that, you know?” A voice interrupted her, where she stood near the bar, the waitress refilling her tray with shots.

Golden painted eyelids flicked up as she caught sight of the man, ready to give a catty remark when she saw someone leaning against the glass countertop, sticky residue of sweet alcohol under his neat suit. Certainly out of sorts in a place like this.

“You think?” She asked, boredly, picking at her fingernails as the man spoke. She couldn’t lie to herself, he was handsome. Not the most handsome man to ever flirt with her, though the others usually were slurring and asking if they would get their drinks free if they give her something nice in return. This man seemed sober, however, his drink small and barely touched, “Good to know,”

“I think a girl like you deserves to have the drinks brought to you on a silver platter,” He said cheekily, sipping his drink slowly as the bartenders looked between her and the man with teasing smiles.

“Don’t bother, Frank,” Eddie said, shaking a cocktail over his shoulder with little more than an eyelid batted, “She’s hard to get. Even said no to a date with me a few times,”

“How could I ever be so cruel to turn down such a stud?” She sneered, though the grin on her face told an entirely different story. She was kidding, ofcourse. “Such a pretty boy, and yet my answer is still the same. I don’t have time for boys,”

“Who said anything about boys?” Frank asked, aghast, placing a hand on his chest, “I would never expect a grown woman like you to want a boy. It’s a man you need.”

She was painfully aware of how much older than her he looked, easily approaching his thirty year mark if his grown attire and mature voice was anything to go off of.

It had been her birthday two weeks ago.

“A man, huh?” She asked cockily, rolling her eyes at the lust in his eyes as she became meaner to him. Men were so predictable. She treated him nice, he was interested. She was a bitch to him, he wanted her more. “Let me know if any of you find one,”

With that, she slid the silver tray of shots off the bar and took off into the sea of people, a little snigger leaving her lips at the way Frank watched her like a hawk.

She had certainly not been expecting a hand to grab her by the belt loops on her shorts, spinning her back to where she had just come from, only to be met with the grey eyes of the man at the bar that she thought she’d left in the dust.

“Are you out of your mind-” Dove cried, slapping his hand off her, though his smile only widened with a snicker of his own.

“One date?” He asked, tugging her closer by the front of her shorts, “One date is all I ask,”

“You don’t even know my name,” She bit back, back when she had it in her to be mean, when he hadn’t ripped the disobedience out of her.

His finger came up to flick the name badge on her chest that she purposely stole from someone else, the one reading Sandie. She never gave out her real name, not just for her safety but for her boys too.

“One date, Sandie,” Frank said, producing a business card out of his pocket, “Just your start date,”

She recoiled. This wasn’t what she’d been expecting what so ever. She’d thought he was flirting, she’d been so sure of it. But a job offer, that was something else.

Ripping the card out of his fingers, she read the sparkly red writing on the front.

for a good night, simply follow the yellow brick road

-frank osbourne

“This is the fakest looking piece of shit I’ve ever seen,” She retorted, which only made him laugh at her attempt of damaging his ego, “I bet this number isn’t even real,”

“No?” He goaded, stuffing his hand even further into his pocket to pull out a wad of twenties.

Her eyes widened as he wedged the roll of money into her front pocket, squeezing it into the fabric where it clung to her skin. Her mouth bobbed open once, perhaps to ask what he did for a living or if he was compensating for something smaller elsewhere. But the usual smartmouth she had on her was gone.

In fact she couldn’t even say anything when he picked up a shot off her tray and slammed it back right there and then on the dance floor, the black liquor dripping down the corner of his mouth.

He smiled at her, wiping it away with the back of his expensive cuff, diamond cufflinks she’d missed at first glance flashing under the strobe lights as the beat in the song dropped and rattled through her chest.

“Keep the change, honey,” He yelled, winking at her smoothly and disappearing back into the crowd as if he had never even been there.

She was embarrassed at how fast she pocketed his number.

Her body was jolting forwards, saved luckily by the seat belt wrapped over her chest, a small gasp crawling out her lips.

She realised with a quick look out the front of the window that they had come to an abrupt stop, a terracotta mountain face staring back at them through the bullet holes cracking the windscreen.

Seeing Layla’s stoic expression and the tension that immersed the car as she woke up, she felt whatever words had been said while she slept bite at her skin, rubbing the sleep dust from her eyes.

“Damn, girl. What did the brake pedal ever do to you?” She muttered, and she hated the way her tummy flurried at the sight of Steven’s bemused smile. She loved making him smile. She saw the bags that dragged at his soft doe eyes, wanted to grab his chin and force him to look at her to get just a moment more of his honeyed gaze, his pretty eyelashes, his expressive brows.

“We’re on foot from here,” Layla ordered, unbuckling herself and hopping out the side of the truck, slinging her rucksack over her back. Dove thought for a moment if she should ask what had happened while she had been asleep in the back seat, yet then she thought better of it. Layla was a bear she never wanted to poke with a stick, let alone more than she already had.

“Good sleep?” Steven asked, swivelling around his position in the passenger side, watching her carefully with a giddy smile.

She licked her lips, fiddling with the tips of her nails, where the odd one had begun healing, where they didn’t hurt as much since she’d stopped gnawing at her loose skin.

“Not as good as our sleepovers,” She mumbled into the quiet of the car, the air like the inside of a candy floss machine; sweet and wispy as he giggled.

“Never,” He replied, the two of them sharing a childish glee. They near jumped out their skin when Layla’s knuckles came down on Dove’s window, harsh and interrupting.

“Are we going, or what?” The woman said loud enough for them to hear the frustration in her tone even through the thick glass.

Guilt flashed across the younger woman’s face as she unlatched her door, the desert heat smacking her in the face like a hand.

Layla simply rolled her eyes at the two bumbling idiots, the way Steven seemed to half tumble out of his own seat just to be near her faster, the way it was clear from the way their hands kept falling to their sides they itched to touch even for a single moment.

She kissed her teeth, spinning on her heel as they looked to her for direction, feeling more akin to a babysitter now Marc didn’t have the body. She hated him when he was in control, hated him when he wasn’t. The entire idea of him was exhausting her, the knife twisting deeper when Steven told her Marc had agreed to disappear without a single goodbye for Steven’s sake.

It wasn’t that she wanted him back. But she was only human. She would have appreciated a real goodbye at least.

“This way. Map says they should be just on the other side of this gorge.” She called behind her, Dove and Steven trailing after her mindlessly, their eyes flicking up to one another wordlessly every few steps.

They took it that Layla wanted some time to herself as she took off on her own, muttering under her breath with a sneer from what they could see. She would keep close enough to listen for trouble, but far enough that she had some peace with her thoughts.

Dove felt a guilty sense of gratitude that her and Steven had a moment alone. She hadn’t known such calm in weeks.

“Marc said-” She started after a few minutes of quiet, “He said you didn’t know about all of this before. How are you doing, finding out you’re sharing your body with a whole other person I mean,” She prompted, chancing a glance at his face, his lip tugged between his teeth.

“Honestly,” He sighed, his tired eyes falling on her face that gazed back with nothing but worry. No judgement, no fear. Never from her. “Honestly, it’s frazzled me a bit. I mean it’s like being in a dream where I’m watching everything happen around me but I’m stuck in the backseat shouting how shit a driver Marc is-”

She couldn’t help the small chuckle that fell from her lips, the one that had him smiling too, not missing the way her shoulder bumped him lightly.

“It’s like I’m yanking on the reins, trying to get my own body back to being mine, and yet no one’s listening, you know?” He continued, and she felt the lump shift in the bottom of her throat.

Yes. I know exactly what you mean, Steven. I think you’re the only person who can ever know, only person since Grace who has ever known me-

And Marc. They were the only two to understand.

She nodded silently, unwilling to meet his eyes.

“Oh god, what am I saying?” Steven muttered cursing to himself, looking at her with sorrowful eyes, “Seth still has you, doesn’t he? It was only Khonshu who they punished.”

She nodded again, keeping an eye on the ground as the terrain became a bit more rocky, stepping down carefully where she saw Layla’s boot print.

“Love, you have to know, that evening in the museum-” He began, following in her footsteps, stopping when his foot slipped on the grainy bank, feeling her hand grab his own, the very touch catching his breath as he stepped down safely to the rest of the sand. “Thanks- in the museum, I never meant for you to get hurt-”

“Steven, it’s okay, you don’t need to say that,” She brushed off bashfully, turning her head to the ground and pulling away from his saccharine touch.

But he wouldn’t let her. She needed to hear it. Needed more than the fair and few nice words Marc had given her the past few weeks. Not when she’d endured so much, so much for him.

He grabbed her hand again, feeling the cold skin under his warm palm, not letting her slip away so fast this time as her eyes flicked up to his and stuck as they traipsed through the sand.

“No, you shouldn’t have been hurt that day. You shouldn’t have had any of this happen to you, and I’m sorry, Dove.” He said perhaps the most serious she’d ever seen him and all she could do was nod wordlessly. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess because of me,”

“It’s not your fault, Steven,” She murmured, squeezing his hand with a frown, “It’s not Marc’s either. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, end of.”

“Still, I’m sorry it happened,” He said, bambi brown eyes falling over the planes of her face, “I promise, Marc and I will find a way to fix it when this is over,”

She smiled again, and he could swear he could feel his chest rattling with his own heartbeat. It was terrifying the effect she had on every inch of his body, the way his stomach and heart seemed to butterfly the moment she looked at him, the way her eyes softened under his gaze, the same woman he’d wanted even after so much hurt.

“It’s not so bad anyway,” She said, her attention returning to the path Layla trekked along, her chocolate curls glistening in the sunset, her lithe figure just close enough to see where she followed her tablet’s directions, “Marc has been a big help, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he never wanted to see me again after this. I can’t imagine he likes me very much,”

“Who wouldn’t like you?” Steven asked, as if it were the most obvious question out there. He felt Marc writhe with a flick of sorrow inside the body, the feeling of being on the outside still unusual to him. “I think he likes you just fine.”

She shook her head with a doubtful smile, “If you say so, Steven,”

“No, honestly!” He pushed, and she only snickered more as he pulled her closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I mean don’t tell him this, but I think he likes you more than he even likes me,”

“Me?” She giggled, entertaining the cheeky look in his eyes with another nudge to his shoulder, “Why? All I’ve done is annoy him since the day I saw him in my room and thought he was you,”

“Well, you’re my best friend for one,” Her cheeks heated at that, “And you’re the kindest person to ever walk the planet. And you’re honest, most honest person I know,”

Her smile dampened, not that he seemed to notice as he was lost in a dizzy world of his own, his thumb stroking the back of her hand gently. Honest. That’s what he valued about her. That she was honest.

She felt the life suck out of her stomache.

“Steven-” She started, her chest sunken. She was sure she could feel every breath rattling around the empty chamber, grabbing her throat.

Liar. They whispered. Liar, liar, liar.

“No, I know you’re going to go all shy, but you are, you’re the only one who doesn’t hide stuff from me like I’m a child, like Marc, all he does is keep things from me,” It was torture. Actual torture. It was as though he was bringing the knife down onto her chest with every sweet word, words that he meant to soothe and warm, words that tore and mutilated her. “You would never do that, now would you?”

It took her a moment to realise he asked a question, took a moment for her to snap out of the wallowing guilt that threatened to drag her under.

She needed to tell him. Needed to have it out with him, tell him what a disgusting, used up mess she was, tell him what she had done to Frank, tell him what she had let happen to Grace. He would be horrified, he would hate her.

She needed to tell him.

But instead she said;

“Never, Steven,”

They continued through the crevice in the land until they came out the otherside, onto a wide sandy ledge, Layla already scouting out across the remaining land.

“There they are,” She called over her shoulder as Dove and Steven caught up, the former much quieter than she had been initially, “Let’s keep moving. Looks like they’re already inside. We’ll need to find another way to beat them to Ammit.”

“After you, love,” Steven said with a besotted smile, holding a hand out for Dove to follow, “Promise I’ll save you if you fall,”

She smiled at him kindly, the ache in her chest weakening as she focused on the task at hand. He would understand. He would understand her reasoning for lying, he had to understand-

She stepped on in silence, carefully following Layla’s bootprints down the steep decline, the sharp rock edges scrutinising her every footstep. It wasn’t for another thirty minutes until they stepped foot on even ground, nearing the deserted campsite, fires reduced to a pile of small embers, not a soul in sight.

That is, until the trio talked to the centre of the camp, all three of them on high alert for any of Harrow’s men lingering for intruders.

Dove had barely seen the taupe four legged creature behind her until it bleated in her ear with a low grunt.

She squealed, stumbling back into Steven’s awaiting arms that wrapped around her shaken figure, her eyes wide as she turned to see two large onyx eyes blinking down at her through inch long lashes, munching happily on some hay.

A camel.

She felt her face warm as she heard the other two begin to snicker at her skittishness, Steven’s chest rumbling behind her with laughter. He stroked her hair softly, “Told you I’d save you,”

“S-sorry,” She muttered, releasing herself from him with a sheepish grin. Her hand came up to the camel’s snout to give it a short rub, the peach fuzz tickling her palm.

“You’d be scared of your own shadow following you,” Layla teased in probably the nicest tone she’d used all day. It seemed a brisk walk where you could curse out your ex all you wanted did the world wonders.

“You try having a god of violence following you, see how comfortable you are with bastards sneaking up on you,” Dove retorted, using the tips of her nails to scratch behind the camel’s ear, his lashes batting sweetly down at her.

Layla set off further into the camp, now it was clear they were the only ones there, urging them towards where an old mine shaft entrance seemed to open up into the middle of another mountain crest, undoubtedly where Harrow’s men had entered.

“Let’s check for supplies,” The older woman suggested, tightening the strap of her backpack with a small squint, the last of the Egyptian sun beating down on them.

Dove nodded, heading off towards one of the nearest tents, seeing a handful of tools resting against crates, small army grade beds set up, raised off the floor. She dug around the few crates, to find the odd bit of clothing, jackets she didn’t need, a torch she flicked on only to find it had run out of battery.

She snagged a few bits of mountaineering rope, tucking it into her satchel Layla had given her from the truck, a pickaxe she held and quickly saw how impractical it was to carry around.

The knife stared at her from on top of the bed. She should pick it up, she knew it was smart to defend themselves, if not for her then for Layla. Or for Steven. Sure, she would be fine, but they were human.

Her hand shook as she held the leather handle, the blade a good eight inches and covered with a rusty brown liquid she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She wasn’t there anymore, she repeated to herself in a mantra, she wasn’t with him anymore. He was gone, he could only haunt her now. She did what she needed to-

Dove was quick to wipe the blood off the metal onto one of the nearby jackets, stopping only when she could see her dishevelled appearance staring back at her in the shine of the blade. Chucking it into the backpack with the rest of her find, she stepped out the tent, heading towards the big canopy she’d seen Steven head towards.

Their conversation from earlier still gnawed at her gut, twisting and writhing inside her like a rot that ate at her. She needed to tell him. He would despise her, he would find her sickening to so much as look at, but she needed to. He deserved the honestly he thought he found in her.

Once they’d stopped Ammit she would tell him. She would hate herself every second until that moment, hate herself every second after too. She would be alone again, she understood. But even if her sweet, sweet Steven forgave her and wanted anything to do with her, there was not a chance in any hell that Marc would allow her around him. He might even turn her in himself, he’ll probably regret saving her life after all. He might even carry out some of Khonshu’s vengeance, might just finish her off, make her pay for lying to Steven, lying to him, liar, liar, liar-

“I know I’m not alone-” There was shouting. But it wasn’t that of Harrow’s men, it wasn’t angered, it wasn’t an order. It was Steven. It was raw, wounded. “I know I’m bloody not alone. I’ve got Layla, and I’ve got Dove. She’s got my back more than you ever have, Marc,”

This was wrong. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping, especially when Steven and Marc seemed to be at odds with one another, it seemed intimate, like watching family fight. But Steven sounded upset, god she hated that sound, he sounded like a dog backed into a corner, unsure, lashing out.

There was no verbal response as she stepped closer, one hand on the drape that acted as a door, preparing to call for him, ask him to tell her everything so she could just fix it for him.

“I appreciate your concern, mate, I really do-” Steven continued, a bite to his words she rarely heard, a snappy tone worlds away from the sweetness he addressed her with. This was violating his privacy, this was wrong, she needed to go in, needed to help him- “So what if I do? You and Layla are divorced, and I definitely didn’t sign any papers or say any vows. The way I see it, I love her and even if theres the smallest chance Dove feels the same way about me, I don’t want you being a grumpy git ruining it for me-”

Her eyes widened. I love her. He loved her? Her heart pounded behind her chest, far harder than anytime it had from fear, from anger, from guilt even. It consumed her lungs, swelling with a warmth that numbed her legs, her hand drawing back the flap to enter the tent.

She had to see him. Had to hear him say it for real.

He cut himself off hearing her enter the tent, his breath catching in his throat. He prayed for a second it was Layla, it would be so much less humiliating, less to explain if it were, though he was sure he was about as flushed as a school boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he spun on his heel to see her gobsmacked face staring back at him.

“D-Dove?” He spluttered, nearly knocking himself on his arse as he stepped back, practically falling away from her, the very sight of her burning him, “W-we were talking- just talk about-”

“Say it again,” She said quietly, yet it spun the room into a stifling silence of its own.

Steven breathed heavily, gasping for a breath that seemed to come too late as he felt his brow begin to sweat, his ribs rattling with a difficult sigh.

“I don’t-don’t know what-what you’re…” He hadn’t even the heart to finish his sentence as she stepped fully into the tent, the drape slipping over her shoulder fluidly, her eyes wild, desperate.

“Say it again, Steven,” She begged, and he could hear her laboured breaths about as hard for her as it was for him.

He gulped, his mouth becoming as dry as it was outside of this little bubble they were stuck in, bringing the cuff of his jumper up to swipe away the sweat that bunched up at his temple.

“Well, the thing is,” He started shakily. He had to tell her, rip the plaster off. He could only hope she would ever, could ever feel the same, even if he was enamoured with her and she just wanted him to entertain herself for a while, he could die happy. Even if she realised he really was the weirdo everyone at work avoided like the plague, he would live forever grateful to have been given a chance. He had to tell her, her eyes were too big, too warm to say no to, “See, the thing, love, is I think- no, I-I know, I-” He continued, his arms and legs numb with the shock of seeing her here, shock of what he was confessing after so long, “I love you,”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, her mouth gaping open, showing off her teeth that blew a held breath past them, her chest rising and falling irregularly as they settled under the weight of his words.

“You don’t need to say anything- or do anything-” He carried on after she stared at him with a gobsmacked expression and he began to fear the worst, “or even feel the same-” He felt like an idiot, felt like his face, chest, body was on fire, “If you want to stay friends, that’s alright with m-”

It only took her two full strides before she had grabbed his face with a fervour she had only ever dreamt about and taken his lips onto her own, silencing his bumbling words hotly.

Her body melted against his, pressing up against every crevice as he gasped into her mouth, hands squeezing into nervous fists at his sides before they seemed to wake up and grab her hips, feeling the plush fat underneath her shirt.

He made a sound, somewhere between shock and joy, something that slipped into a whine as her fingers wove through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Wait-” He gasped in the small moment they broke apart, his eyes fluttering open to see her face more at peace, more blissed than he’d ever seen, “Dove-”

“More.” She mewled, her face scrunching in desperation, brows pulling together as if in pain to be parted.

It took little to no thought on his part what came next after hearing her plea. Steven had never been one to take control, never thought he would be kissing a woman with so much heat, let alone her.

He tugged her closer, harder than before, so sudden she all but fell into him where he was waiting with dry lips that pressed against hers so hard she could feel his teeth behind them. His hands wrapped around her waist, clawing at the bottom of her spine, fingertips pressing into her skin as if worried he’d feel her slip through them like sand.

She breathed heavier into his mouth, whining like a dog for affection, her fingers weaving further into his chocolate curls and squeezing.

He gave an open mouthed bleat of surprise as she bit down on his lip, his own hand migrating up, up under her shirt, following her bare spine, feeling every groove, every mole, every millimetre of skin with a fire that burned her with feverish tingles. He seemed to freeze when he got to her bra, as if to forget such things existed, because he really did forget where and who and what they were wearing, his mind entirely unravelled, shedding all thoughts other than her, her, her.

He didn’t care that her shirt rode up as his arm pushed on, blunt nails pawing at her skin, until they reached the base of her neck, further until he grabbed at the roots of her own hair. He didn’t care for the surprise in her yelp as he flipped the two of them around, pressing her against the post in the centre of the tent, the thick wood scratching at her back, his hand protecting her head as he kissed even harder.

“Steven-” Marc’s voice pulled him out of his paradise. He couldn’t believe he was kissing her, that she was letting him kiss her. He couldn’t believe the way she grabbed at him just as tight, as if she felt the same frenzied need for his body on hers that he did, as only shown by the way she tried to pull him back when he disconnected their lips, “Steven, stop it. Steven-”

“Steven-” She whined, and if there was any chance of him listening to the American man screaming at him from the mirror, the same mirror he had been in a heated row with when she had first entered, that flew out of the window the moment he heard her soft voice in his ear.

He was so sure he had never wanted anything so badly in his life.

“Steven, stop it. This isn’t safe.” Marc tried to command again, his voice a venomous hiss, thick with something sad, only Steven didn’t listen.

Instead, his lips migrated to the bottom of her lips, catching the corner of them, his hand in her hair tugging tighter as she whispered his name again, the laboured breaths rattling against her chest that pressed impossibly closer to him. His hand reached up past her head, ripping the mirror from the nail on the wooden beam, tossing it far enough away he barely heard the clink of the glass breaking into three pieces.

“What was that for?” She whispered, her breath catching when he moved further down her face, a nip to her jaw, before he reached the soft, velvety skin of her neck, the air sucking out of her at the point of contact.

“Marc talks too much,” Was all he said, before he dove into kissing her pulse point, the beat jackhammering against her plush skin, vibrating on his lips as he settled back into kissing the very soul out of her.

She gasped a laugh, right hand remaining in the thicket of his hair as the other detached to reach for the toned fat of his hip bone, the sensation making him groan, flinching as her fingers glided under his own shirt.

He was a man starved, kissing harder and harder with every whimper of approval he received, a note to not stop whatever it was he was doing if it meant she would keep sounding so heavenly.

He tensed as her hand moved over his stomach, feeling over the wear and tear scars he had always wondered how he got. Ofcourse, being who he was now, he knew they were from Marc running all over the world, risking his skin for a moon god they both despised, the same skin she stroked softly where they raised in ugly white lines from his stomach.

He wanted to say something clever, say something to make her laugh, maybe about how Marc wasn’t as good a fighter as he seemed, but his every brain cells vanished when her fingertip so much as traced the hem of his trousers, teasing him with a slight tug at the material.

He felt the cotton brush against where his boner crushed against his soft tummy, harder and more vulnerable than he had ever felt it. The months spent pining after this woman did him no favours, granted him no justice as he melted at the knees under her touch. He felt her smile, not cockily nor with any semblance of lust, just happy. Happy to have him so close, feel him pouring over her with an affection she never deserved.

Feeling no signs of rejection, she tugged at his hemline again, her fingers looping under his boxers this time, the sensation of the warm dusk air flooding his underwear and hitting his sensitive tip like a freight train, the feeling enough to rip him from kissing at her throat with a gasp, his forehead falling down to rest on her collarbone, eyes squeezed together in a near pained mewl.

“Love-” He murmured, hand still grabbing at the back of her locks, pulling tighter when she tugged his clothes again, exposing him for the briefest of seconds to the thick air they’d found themselves in, “You make it so hard to think when you do that,”

“Do what?” She asked, the innocence in her tone snuffed out by the lust twinkling in her eye as she looked to him, gaze bleary, face puffing out from the thrill of it all, her chest rising between the two of them, taking in enough air to sustain a bird mid-flight.

He smiled back at her, a look of adoration and pure, unbloodied happiness smothering his face as he leaned in to kiss her lips a few more times, each one a little braver than the last as he nibbled at her lips, albeit a little too excited. But she didn’t care, it only made her smile wider.

“I want you so badly,” He said, the tips of their noses meeting as his forehead pressed against hers, sharing each other's breaths as her eyes shut in a dizzy sweet glow.

“Have me,” She replied without a beat of hesitation, pressing a kiss to his lips again, “I was always yours to have,”

If he thought he couldn’t get harder, he was sorely mistaken.

His stomach flurried with what felt like a sea of warmth that spread down to his legs, numbing his body as it crawled over his olive skin. He wanted to devour her with a hunger he had never known, wanted to commit every inch of skin to memory, wanted to kiss her until they both lost breath and then kiss her some more, even if his lips turned blue and his brain shut off from deprivation, because he was already feeling giddy from the taste of her alone.

“Really?” Steven asked, his nut brown eyes fat with puppy love, the hearts practically swirling in his gaze like a comic book, “I’ve wanted this for so long. Pictured a bed and candles and chocolates, the whole shebang,”

She giggled at his Steven-like ways that hadn’t faded away even when his lust was as clear as the boner that poked at her leg.

“The whole shebang?” She echoed with an amused smile, but the desire for more had yet to die out, “That sounds lovely, Steven, but there’s just one problem.”

“Which is?” He asked, the frown that flashed over his face smoothing out when he felt her kiss him again, a sharper bite to his lip than before, a harsher tug at his boxers to where she stood patiently waiting, her touch edging even closer to where he wanted her most.

“I want you now.” She whispered, trailing off into a whine, “Please,”

He stared at her with a slack jaw, only spurring her to kiss along the bone with a sweetness soft enough to rot teeth.

Pulling her hair back firm enough to move her away, not hard enough to hurt, he forced her back into his line of sight again, his eyes darker than she would have thought possible for a sweetheart like him.

“You ask me like that ever again and I’ll give you anything,”

A breathy laugh bled into a gasp as his hand released her head, moving down to her flowy trousers, the elastic waist giving in almost too easily as his large, warm hand skirted across the skin of her stomach, goosebumps chasing after the tips of his fingers as they brushed gently over her skin too quickly.

He wanted to kiss every spot of the velvety plushness he could get to, but he could save that for another day, instead he knew exactly where he wanted the most.

“Are you sure-”

“Please,” She whined, his fingers that lingered at her bare hipbone, freezing for a moment before they edged towards the lacey hem of her underwear.

The two of them gasped as his shaking hands went further, crossed the line in the sand, went further down. Steven was sure the air was sucked entirely from his lungs when he brushed over soft, neat hair, as if the feeling of it woke him up from whatever trance he was in.

“Oh my god,” He whispered against her cheek, nose pressed against her temple as she mewled under his palm, melting into where his other hand held her waist, “Oh god-”

He dared himself to go further, though he was sure his heart was in his throat. He could stake his life on waking up in his bed any second now, ankle tied up, a raging boner against his sleep shorts. This was too much for his poor, tender pulse, the sound of the thumps ringing loud as her voice in his ears.

Shaky hands ventured down, until they reached her waiting entrance, already soaked from where his kisses had weakened her insides, melting her into putty under his saccharine lips.

Fearing she would moan all the louder, her hands returned to his shoulder blade, looping under his arm that was busy trailing light touches over where her cunt waited patiently for more of him. She pulled his face back to hers, kissing him hard where she could groan comfortably, the sheer thrill and terror congealing in her gut if they were found in this position. It made her want him more, because no one had ever wanted her, her, so much as to risk their own life.

She felt herself squeak into his searing lips, a drawn out kiss that branded her for all to see, all to know that she was entirely his, when his index fingers curled up, exploring, mapping out what got the best reaction.

“You’re so-” He tried to say. Wet. But she had pulled him back for more the moment he tried to pull away, groaning as his digits slipped between her sex effortlessly.

It was then that he braved another finger, pushing just that bit further into her, still relatively unsure about what he was doing.

“You can go harder,” She seemed to sense his hesitation, but then why wouldn’t she. She knew him sometimes better than he knew himself. Read the exhilaration that faltered on his face as if as easy as flipping a page in a book, “You won’t hurt me,”

Steven nodded, the confirmation exactly what he needed to push his fingers into her further, eyes wild with lust as he watched her face contort in pleasure, her cushion walls squeezing his fingers tightly as he went deeper.

“Like that?” He said, the bite of her lip taking his attention wholly. He tried to hide the glee, the smugness in his tone as he said it, but when he pulled them out only to enter her again and she gave a mewl under her breath, his face was entirely cheshire cat.

“Yes,” She said, and he could have sworn it was something out of a dirty movie. Her face was something out of this world as he kept up with his movements, his mouth watering as her eyes flicked open to stare up at him, entirely at his mercy.

His breath was swept from him for the fourth time that day.

The thousands of years of faces passing this early, the sculptures and paintings even the greatest of hands had crafted, and yet it was his rough, tired digits that created the pinnacle of them all.

Feeling sure of himself with how his ministrations so far had been received, he pulled his fingers from her cunt, trailing back up gently to where he knew her clit would be. He fumbled for a moment, the spur of the moment confidence he’d found dwindling as he realised he was still as inexperienced as he had been the day before, that although he knew women’s anatomy, he had never actually touched a woman like he was now.

Again feeling him waver beneath her, his chocolate eyes dopey and pleading for help from anyone listening, she grabbed hold of his wrist and moved him to where she needed.

“Here, Steven,” She whispered, jolting into his chest when his warm digits met her sensitive nerves. She gave him a soft, loving smile and kissed his lips gently, not pitying but simply adoring his Steven-ness that she felt herself bathing in, felt his entire being shooing away every dark speck of dust that crowded her head too often these days.

“Here?” He asked, circling the small bundle gently, her head dropping to his shoulder with a knee weakened neediness. She drew a sharp breath, the bliss wiped from her face and met with a hot ecstasy, raw and soul sucking as he continued to kiss her cheek where her face buried into his neck more.

“There,” She moaned again, her fingers pulling harder at his hair, clawing at his back like an animal begging for mercy, “Fuck, Steven,”

It was muffled into his jacket, and yet the sound of his name said like that only had him pulling her closer, practically keeping her standing as her legs went to jelly, and he rubbed over her nerves faster, her arms shaking as she yanked at his clothes, his hair, anything she could hold onto.

“I love you so much,” He confessed into her hair; he just needed to say it again. If this, all of this, even without what they were doing, even if it meant he could hold her in his arms tight enough to hear her hummingbird heart against his for the rest of existence, he would die happy.

“I love you-I love you so much,” She returned in a needy whine that made him growl and move his fingers all the more faster. He pressed into her more, his cock raging against his seams to be inside her, to have her as much as she’d asked for, her body pressing harshly against the wooden post behind her as his legs straddled her thigh that shook weakly.

He was everywhere. His voice was in her ear, his chest was in her face, his scent was in her nose, his fingers were inside her, his hand tugged her even closer where it spread widely across her spine.

She felt it pooling in her stomach before she could put a name to it, her squeals and pants getting lost in his neck as he moaned with her, and she realised his own sex was pressing angrily against her, a problem that only made her cry out more, grab at him harder.

“Steven-I’m gonna-” She gasped, pressing her forehead to his jaw, “I’m gonna-”

If Steven wanted to say something, it seemed lost to his glazed eyes that watched her like a man on death row, took note of every facial feature as if he’d ever be able to forget how she looked when she came.

She felt the heat in her stomach fizzing up, felt the whole of her pelvis knotting together, her legs jittering as they fought to hold her up, Steven’s body taking the brunt of it as she all but fell into him, dragging his lips onto hers in a harsh, toothy kiss, her moans spilling onto his tongue, his fingers never halting or slowing in their circles.

“Fuck-” She cursed, the last of her pleasure seizing her body, ebbing and flowing away from her until the touch on her clit became too much and she grabbed his wrist desperately and pulled him away, “Steven,”

Fearing he had done it incorrectly, he pulled away as if burned, his free hand immediately freeing her waist to cup her cheek, eyes searching her face for signs of disappointment.

“Was that not it? Was that not right?” He whispered, face heating in regret, only to be met with a breathless smirk before she pulled him back towards her with a quick yank of his sweater.

She kissed him much sweeter this time, a worn out giggle weaving in between their lips, pulling away with dazed eyes that stared at him as if he’d handed her the entire universe in one go.

“That was perfect, Steven,” She said, pecking him again when he seemed unconvinced, “I’ve never been so happy as I am right now, here with you,”

“Neither have I,” He said, his gaze entirely dopey with love as he watched her breaths even out, lips twitching into a sweet smile as she stared back at him.

He wasn’t lying. He’d give her anything if she asked for it.

She seemed to snap out of their honey glazed daze, fingers fiddling with the somewhat softening pull at his trousers, her nail that had surprisingly not been mauled by her stress for a week or so, trailing over where his sensitive tip pressed at his leg, the sensation drawing in a breath from his chest once more.

“Wait,” He started, holding her wrist gently, pulling her hand up to his mouth where he gave her palm a gently kiss, “I want to just be here with you, we don’t have to do that,”

She smiled, though her eyes seemed incredulous that he would deny such an offer. She couldn’t say she was entirely surprised however, Steven had this way of proving her wrong about everything she worried he would be, had this way of making her feel ridiculous for ever expecting anything but softness from him.

“Don’t you want a turn?” She asked quietly, his nose brushing against hers gently as he shook his head, “I just want to make you happy,”

He pulled away then at those words, smiling at her disbelievingly, “If you think that didn’t make me happy, then you’re a very, very silly girl who needs convincing, I guess,”

Without giving her much room to reply, he grabbed her in for another searing kiss, before pressing small pecks all over her mouth sweetly.

“Don’t worry,” He said with a smirk and a mischievous twinkle in his otherwise soft brown eyes, “I’m more than happy to convince you over and over and over again once we get home,”

Her cheeks ached from the smile that grew at the thought of home, home for the two of them.

There was no place like home.

Taglists:

KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST

@shirukitsune @s-u-t @ahookedheroespureheart @willowseason @imonmykneessir @acceptedbyace @broadwaytraaaaash @mythicalmo @stevenknightmarc @avery88 @fandombrackets @thelostlovedone @raythecomputerart @nyctophile-moon-child @unknownduck0 @emily-roberts @cheshirecat484 @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @thebestrouge @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @dumbhxeredrose @badbishsblog @jvexoxo @sxftie-mari @mythical-goth @cillmeslowly @wildwallflower24 @ameliashideout @moonsua1 @latenightcravingz @blackqueengold @jesfreedark @uncle-eggy @onefinnedwonder-fm

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector imagine #moon knight x reader #moonknight imagine #moonknight x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant smut #Marc Spector smut #not safe for minors

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jangofctts · 2 years

Text

Really, Truly (Steven Grant (a hint of Marc Spector) x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: !!spoilers!!, some fluff!!, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, cum eating, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, slight praise kink, fucking in the workplace (lmk if I miss anything!)

a/n: im so sorry it’s not my best work um. anyway ENJOY ANYWAY

It’s been four months since you’ve first met Steven Grant.

Not that long in the grand scheme of things, but odd occurrences have a way of drawing people closer. You’d like to think so anyway. Your entire life is chockfull of oddities, far from normalcy—makes for interesting stories though. It’s only right that someone like Steven would wander into your peculiar state of life.

No really, he did just…wander through your door one evening. Your fault for not locking it, but still. Spooked the fuck out of both of you, so much so that poor Steven thwacked his head into the door frame and nearly broke his nose. You baked him smiley face cupcakes that night, partially as an apology and as a shitty housewarming present. You’re a firm believer of neighbor solidarity, especially with places like this—tacky landlords and shitty amenities. It’s the least you could do for Steven.

Sadly, you never were a stellar baker—half of them came out charred, and if they weren’t, the mess of melting frosting made the little cakes appear disgustingly malformed. It’s the thought that counts, right? Steven didn’t seem too flabbergasted about the atrocities—sorta just teared up and mumbled his thanks. Poor guy.

And that’s not the end of it. Turns out, you work at the same museum and at the same shitty gift shop. Made for an interesting bus ride—he accused you of stalking and tore out of the bus three stops early. Imagine his surprise upon finding you scanning crappy plastic Ennead dolls behind the counter an hour later. Dude nearly had a existential crisis right then and there.

Things have settled since then. Sort of. Steven isn’t exactly the pinnacle of put together. Mismatched socks, wrinkled shirts and missing buttons, eye bags like two swatches of purple paint, odd nicks and bruises. Not that you’re any better—a scatterbrained insomniac, ex-grad student living paycheck to paycheck in an less than ideal apartment. Birds of a feather and all that, you suppose. He’s sweet though—never fails to give you a call each morning to ask if you’d like to walk together. Your only friend in these trying times.

It’s why, when he goes missing every now and then, you don’t mind covering his shifts. Donna is none the wiser, or she doesn’t care, as long as someone’s manning the cash register.

Which brings you to current time. Same as always, Steven calls you, you walk and take the bus to work. Very thrilling.

As you both come to the top of the steps, you’re greeted by J.B.’s boots, propped up against the counter, engrossed in his phone as usual. Watching clips of otters dive for urchins and cracking them open with rocks, giggling each time they do so. Typical. Makes sense he’d like evil little creatures like that. “‘Ello, Ziggy,” he lifts his eyes, takes account of Steven and dips his head. “Scotty.”

“Mate, it’s Steven,” he sighs, clearly distressed. You tug on his sleeve on pull him along. His head whips around, eyebrows furrowed as he throws up his hands. “I keep tellin’ everyone it’s Steven.”

“J.B. still calls me Icky sometimes—or Sticky,” you pause and tap your chin. “That one makes sense though. I had jellybeans stuck in my hair that day.”

A nickname’s nickname—all because you dressed like Ziggy Stardust once. You’d forgotten about your shift and had to rush to the museum from some upitty Oxford fuck’s halloween house party. You don’t know what’s worse—stuck behind the counter dressed as Ziggy Stardust or the giggling that followed from coworkers and guests alike.

Whatever.

“What on earth…why?” Steven exclaims, drawing you back into reality.

“The jellybeans? Happens.”

It’s just the way of things. Not the jellybeans thing…but J.B being J.B.. He’ll always be a dickwad and Donna will never bother to learn new hire’s names. It took her nearly a year to learn yours. As long as you get your paycheck, you’re all set.

And so the shift goes on, dragging into the night and into inventory. You don’t mind this part so much—you don’t have to deal with screaming children and their exhausted parents forking over money for a plushie. Then again, Steven mostly does all the counting and scanning. You just sit on your stool, dig through the baskets and hand him the items—you’re not very good with numbers. It’s quicker this way. And it gives you an excuse to stare at with him without repercussion.

God he’s fuckin’ gorgeous. Dark curls, tan skin, dreamy eyes and an adorable smile to boot.

“Ziggy—”

“Hm? Oh,” you straighten, gather a fistful of magnets and hand them to him. His lips quirk into a quick smile. “Sorry—did you brush your hair today?”

Steven’s brows furrow slightly. He’s gotten used to your out of pocket observations and the odd questions that follow. You don’t really know why you do it—the words just sorta form and roll off your tongue faster than you can process. Whack shit is what it is. “I think so? Oh dear, does it look that bad, Zig?”

You shake your head and sort through more of the magnets, crinkling the plastic wrap around them. “No, just—I dunno. You had gel in it the last time I saw you. Didn’t know if you were trying something new.”

Steven scratches his head and flattens the dark curls using an open palm. He chuckles. “Silly—I saw you yesterday! I think I’d know if I gelled me hair.”

“Not true,” you quip, dragging over the box of plush scarab beetles. They are quite cute. “I saw you last night—you asked if I had any change for the payphone outside.”

Steven’s face morphs into a twisted mask of confusion. “I did? Bloody hell, I don’t remember that, Ziggy. I’m awfully sorry.”

You shrug. “You sleepwalk, I think. We talk most nights—you always bring me donut holes when you come back.”

Steven frowns, lovely brown eyes dropping to the scanner. The brief silence is filled with slow, methodical beeps and plastic wrapping, pinched between fingers. You don’t really care if he’s trying to hide something, you know plenty of people who do weird things in their sleep. Like you for example—you don’t sleep at all. “Odd. Thought you didn’t fancy donuts.”

“I don’t,” you say. “But I do like throwing them at the pigeons—they’re making a nest! Ungrateful buggers, they don’t even pay rent.”

“You are,” Steven says, bumping your shoulder, “exceedingly strange.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you scoff, throwing up your hands. You swat at his arm. “It’s war at this point—they keep pecking at my window with their weird little beaks. You ever see a baby pigeon? They look fucked up."

“Maybe if you quit feeding them they’d leave, you nut.”

You purse your lips and hug a scarab to your chest. You’ve stolen about three of them, what’s another one? “Whatever. I hope your flat gets infested.”

“I’d rather not have an infestation, thank you,” Steven sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes. He waves at another crate. “You mind fetching that one? One more and were done, yeah?”

You groan and slide off your stool, wincing as your aching feet touch the ground. “Fine.”

It’s far from fine, actually.

Because, just as you plant your feet on the ground, you completely space on the mountain of boxes you haphazardly threw behind you earlier tonight. One step back and you’re fuckin’ done for. Your heel catches—you yelp as your stomach flips, succumbing to the mortifying feel of falling ass first. Steven—ever the sweetheart—startles and snatches your wrist.

It’s too late though. The momentum takes him down with you.

You wheeze as his weight smacks into you, crushing you against the linoleum tiles. Fuck, he’s heavier than he looks. Luckily, he’s slid his hand up to cradle the back of your head before it smacks against the floor, saving you a trip to the ER.

“Shit,” Steven breathes. He pushes himself up using his other hand, eyes quickly scanning your face for any injury. “You alright, yeah?”

You wouldn’t consider yourself a shy person, or easily embarrassed. However, you’re not immune to the very attractive man atop of you, pressed close enough that you could easily tilt your head and kiss him. You could pretend to shrug your feelings off—pretend that you don’t know that his smile is always a bit crooked, how he likes his tea, sugary and blonde. Or how he holds his hands to his chest and wrings his hands together when he’s nervous—the little scar on his cheek and the freckle above his eyebrow. You should choose ignorance. Heat floods your cheeks as you blink and grasp at words that refuse to form. You hurriedly nod, but make no move to wiggle away.

He leans onto his elbow still trapped under your head and sweeps a stray hair off your forehead. Your breath catches. “You sure, love?”

Well, that’s new.

Yes, there’s always been some light flirting. Not enough to garner attention but like a breath to simmering embers. Steven has a shy heart, softened and bruised like an overripe peach, and you’re not one to jump blindly into something that could be. But here you are. Steven has tossed you this scrap of kindling, unexpected. Maybe as half a joke, half of something else, and the way he looks at you now whispers possibility. A question.

“Steven?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a crush on you,” it’s an exhilarating moment. A grandiose high that could be kicked into a higher gear or plummet so sharply that your heart shatters as a casualty. Pure relief floods your veins as Steven smiles, one that reaches his eyes and crinkles the skin around them.

“Really?”

“Really, truly,” you assure, leaning into his fingertips that scrape almost reverently across your cheeks. Impatient, you shoot your hands up, grab him by his cheeks and drag him close. Your lips meet, and yeah, your teeth bump into his but everything fades into hazy bliss, slots together like a missing puzzle piece. Two chaotic halves meshing to create the perfect storm, and you’re at the eye of it. Maybe it’ll leave devastation in it’s wake—you both have the tendency to walk on the wrong side of the street onto oncoming traffic. The ebb to the shore and the hurricane to the sky. A war that can be tipped tot the side by a single breath. You both moan as he parts his lips, tender as honey exploring the taste of your tongue. It’s sweet and addicting—

His hand tangles into your hair, dragging you so impossibly close, hips slotting between your legs that fall open for him. God, he’s fucking perfect—belongs here with you like this. You get dizzy, pull away and fuck—he’s wrecked. Messy curls, teased by your clawing fingers stick up at odd angles, a rosy flush over his skin. You cup his cheek and he leans into your touch and plants a fleeting kiss over your palm.

His eyes snap wide open, fear crackling over his face. “Oh, fuck me—the surveillance cameras! Donna is gonna kill us for snogging over the merchandise!”

Steven stumbles into a kneeling position, gripping his hair at the roots and muttering curses and wild fears. You snicker and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You touch your hand over his forearm and he stills. “I know a place we could go—if you wanna continue…”

Steven rolls his tongue over his lips, mulling over your words. His eyes flick to the cameras above the counter, then back to you. Nervousness still lingers in his stiff shoulders and worrying teeth tearing into his lip, but he still nods. Albeit slowly. “You positive we won’t get caught?”

You smile, nod and maneuver yourself to your feet. You take his hand in yours and help him up. You don’t mind that they’re a little clammy. “I promise—it’s where I hide my snacks.”

It’s a small storage room, down the hall and off to the left. It’s where the extra uniforms and random event supplies is held—unused and always abandoned after the museum closes. No one will come looking.

“Nice little place. Very cozy—” you don’t let Steven finish, the minute the door snicks shut, you jump his bones. Desperate kisses, clawing at his lose clothes—you feel as though he’s set aflame and he’s the only cure.

You both end up on the floor again with you straddling his lap, his back pressed against the wall. The space is filled by little groans and soft whimpers of your name as his hands traverse up your back, settle on your hips, then move back to your face. Your own hands have made a home over his chest, shirt billowing open by your greedy need to touch his bare skin. He’s a little hesitant to touch you—you know he’d prefer a bed than some crappy storage closet but fuck—you need him.

And so does he. You can feel the firm bulge pressing between your legs and the way his hips subtly twitch into you. And as the kisses devolve into a wet, lazy pace, his stubble burning the sensate skin of your lips, the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. Your underwear is soaked through and no doubt ruined. Sparks of raw energy, crackles through your abdomen as Steven’s hands fall around your hips, coming you to grind harder onto him. His forehead, humid with perspiration, rests on yours breath fanning over your lips, as you take a breather.

Steven’s hand drift over the swell of your ass, giving the rounded globes a solicitous squeeze. “You have a nice bum—never got around to telling you that.”

“So do you,” you laugh, dragging your clothed center over the rock solid bulge in his pants. That needs to be fixed immediately. And then a wicked, debased thought slithers into your head.

With a smirk you wiggle out of his grip, and shimmy out of your pants and undies. You’re back before Steven can pout. You resettle over his lap, lean back a little and slowly, enough that its catches his attention, down the line of your body. His eyes are glued to your movements as you dip your hand between your legs. Your fingers spread your lower lips, gliding down easily from your clit to your aching center. A quiet moan bubbles past your lips as your hips rock against the pressure, a gentle back and forth pace meant to coat the digits in your wet heat. You move to circle your clit, drinking in the rapid-fire endorphins singing through your blood. You jump to tease your entrance, clenching in frustration at the loss of contact on your clit. Steven’s hands twitch around your hips, pink tongue flashing out to wet his lips—his flushed cheeks deepen into a rosy brown as you sink two of your fingers, up to the last knuckle, into yourself.

Steven’s hands clamp around your hips, digging into the little divots on your back, as your head rolls back onto your shoulder. “Shit—you’re stunning.”

Your lips tilt into a lopsided grin. “I know.”

He huffs at that, still fixed on your fingers that curl in and out of your slick center. Your lower half seizes up as you pull your fingers free from your cunt, glistening and soaked. Steven mutters a curse under his breathe, as you lift your hand higher for him to see. You smile turns wicked. “Open your mouth.”

Steven’s eyes snap to yours. “W-what?”

“I said,” you purr sweetly as your bring your two fingers to the seam of his plush lips. You touch the pads of them over his bottom lip, delighted in the way a string of your arousal connects to his pouting mouth. “Open your mouth, Steven.”

His jaw drops without question. Your fingers slide into his willing mouth, slotting over his warm tongue and the soft palette on the roof of his mouth. His moan vibrates through your finger. You shift, grinding your center into the tented front of Steven’s pants. His hips stutter. “Suck.”

Steven’s eyes flutter as his tongue jumps to action. Wild electricity thrums through your being, impressed how well Steven’s tongue laves and suckles your digits clean—starved for a taste of you. Your breath catches as his dexterous tongue weaves between your fingers, hollows his cheeks and tentatively sucks. Once satisfied, a quiet pop follows the departure of your fingers from his plush mouth. The back of his head bumps the wall, eyes shut tight. “God—I’m going to ruin my trousers if you keep that up, y-yeah?”

“Hot,” you allow him no respite. You swoop down to kiss him, open-mouthed and syrupy-sweet.Your tongue slides over his, tasting yourself on him—you moan into his mouth. You draw back, lick over his bottom lip and replace it with the sting of your teeth—earning a sharp jolt of Steven’s hips. However, as much as you’d like to witness Steven Grant cumming into his pants, your mind is set upon other activities.

Decisively, you reach around and pry one of Steven’s hands from your hip. You eyes meet his, irises blown wide with arousal, heavy lidded and bewitched by your very smile.You guide Steven’s hand by the wrist, palm up, to your soaked center. His eyes widen, chin snapping to his chest to catch a better look the moment the pads of his fingers touch the outsides of your folds. “Oh, bless—you’re dripping, Ziggy.”

You lead his hand to slot against you, his palm a perfect fit cupping your pussy. You roughly grind into his catatonic fingers, eliminating the difficulty of where to start. Fuck, his hands are huge—warm and thick too—your cunt clenches tight, waves of need swelling in your abdomen. You drop your hand guiding his, and sling it around his neck, drawing your lips to his stubbled jaw. You nip at the skin here. “C’mon, Steven…touch me.”

Steven startles. “Right, right—sorry.”

You feel his throat bob as he swallows. He mutters encouragement to himself and draws in a sharp breath. The first pass of his fingers through you slick folds is crippling. The tip of his thumb slots directly beneath the hood of your clit, and wether that had been dumb luck or an aimed attack, the effects remain the same. You keen and crumple—a feeling akin to a punch to your diaphragm. And it only gets worse—or better—depending on how you look at it. He’s a Grade A, tease.

And he doesn’t even know it.

Steven’s mouth parts in awe, breath humid and hot over your exposed chest. His forehead presses into your collarbone to watch his fingers disappear through your swollen folds and remerge drenched. The pad of his middle finger slides lower, pressing gently against the tight muscles of your entrance. He rubs just the slightest bit to test that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you, tentatively. You thighs twitch on their own volition, your teeth clenching together.

“Fuck, that feels good,” you hiss as he slides it in deeper. Your eyes roll back at the delicious pressure, tugging at his hair when his finger curls up, inspiring the surge of searing pleasure. Steven’s moan filters past his lips, jagged and wrecked as he very carefully moves the digit in and out. The raw sparks of heat threaten to catch flame and burn you alive as your core clenches around his thick finger.

“Yeah?” Steven pants. “Am I doing it proper?”

You nod and bury your face into the crux of his neck. Your lips attach to the skin here, praising him with soft kisses and lazy passes of your tongue. He stiffens as you smirk and latch your teeth onto him. “More—please, Steven.”

Steven readily agrees and eases a second finger inside you, letting you feel that delicious stretch as your cunt accommodates him. It’s tighter like this, a perfect angle that allows Steven’s fingers to catch the most sensitive part of you—that and the heel of his palm rocking against your clit. Fuck, you don’t have a chance—you can hear how wet you are for him in the tiny space, drenching his hand in your arousal.

Steven lifts his head, nuzzles into your neck, lips pressed sweetly against your ear. He nips the shell of cartilage and whimpers your name. Your high flares up bright behind your eyes, a hair-trigger reaction that makes everything from your toes and up tighten like a vice. One more thrust of his fingers and rock of his palm, and you’re done for—

You cum onto his fingers with a choked cry, the edges of your vision fading into spotty blotches of black and white as your back arches. A network of open ended fuses exposed to a current and a body of water implode—sizzling and devastating. You nails harpoon into Steven’s shoulders as he continues to finger you through your orgasm, keeping you from toppling over as you jerk and shiver in his hold.

You hear his disbelieving laugh above the fuzzy pleasure clouding your brain, marveling at the fact he’s just made you cum Your stomach drops as he pull his fingers free from you spasming hole, accidentally catching your hypersensitive clit. You flinch. “That was bloody wicked,” Steven praises, smoothing a hand up your spine. “Still with me, Ziggy?”

“Ahuh,” you wheeze, recollecting your scattered thoughts and whereabouts. You stamp lazy kisses up the line of his throat, over his check and eventually to his parted lips. You snake a hand between you, smirking as Steven’s breath catches in his chest when you grab at his covered cock. “Do you still want more?”

“Fuck,” Steven stutters out, squeezing his eyes shut and then open as if to make sure this wasn’t just another one of his waking dreams. “I can never look at this broom closet the same.”

You snicker and rolls his bottom lip between your teeth. “Our little secret now.”

He laughs lowly and nods. “You are a terrible influence.”

You plant a kiss on the corner of his and the touch of your palm slipping into his loose fitting pants. “I know.”

Need bites at your insides, swells up sharper this time. It’s easy to convince Steven to tug his pants just far enough that his cock can be freed. Fuck, it’s just as gorgeous as the rest of him—flushed a rosy brown, thick and leaking at the wide tip. Steven throws his head bank and clenches his jaw as your curious fingers wrap around his searing flesh. You make a mental note of taking him into your mouth later—fuck he’d look so pretty fucking your mouth—

“Ziggy,” Steven moans, lightly touching the hand that’s jerking him off—slow and methodical. No rush despite the borrowed time. “Please—”

“Alright, alright,” you sigh, adjusting yourself higher up his lap. One of your hands moves to anchor on his shoulder while the other threads through the thick locks at the back of his head. There’s a few tangles here—nothing that can’t be fixed by a simple comb through. You lift your hips up and tilt them just a bit, just enough to position the tip of his cock at your entrance. You both choke out a groan as you rock your wetness against his rigid length. Steven’s hands clamp down hard over your hips. And then, without much fuss, you bite his neck, reach for his cock to position him at your weeping entrance and slowly start to sink down on him.

A dark current of lust surges up your spine, wicked heat spilling forth and billowing past any comprehensive thought and turning it into mush. You shove your cunt the rest of the way down his thick cock, pressing him up so far up inside that Steven chokes next to your ear. Fuck, he feels so fucking good from this angle—stretching and filling you in the way your body has so desperately craved since meeting him. You suck in a harsh breath in through your nose and unlatch your teeth from his now bruised skin.

Steven’s hand shoots up to tangle in your hair, holding your face into the crook of his neck while you right as roll your hips up and clamp down around his. His cock drags deliciously out of your pussy and fuck—your mind crackles as you drop back down onto his lap.

“Oh, Christ,” Steven whines, his other hand squeezes your thigh hard enough to leave a mark. “You f-feel fantastic.”

You whimper, biting the inside of your cheek head as the head of his cock is pushed up tight against the most sensitive part of you. Wildfire bursts in your lower belly and seeps through your cunt, your hips, and into your upper thighs. Fuckin’ shit—you roughly grind your hips into him as he pushes up, digging your nails into his arm and twisting it into his hair.

“I wanted this to happen since forever,” you whisper, spiraling into madness from the aching bliss. “That’s all I think about—fucking you.”

Steven holds you closer and snarls out a curse, his hips jerking up into yours with near bruising force. “Shit—I—”

You keep going.

“‘Specially over the counter—I get so bored here,” you moan, moving into his sharp thrusts. The positioning doesn’t allow for him to do much besides roll his hips in short, stunted movements, but it’s just enough to build your pleasure until it’s bubbling to the top. “Do you think about me, Stevie?”

“May-maybe,” he hiccups, but it’s way too embarrassed and worked up to be anything close to convincing. “I-I shouldn’t. Not as much as I do.”

“And you never said anything?” You pout, breathing hot air onto his neck and riding his cock slow and steady. You can hear how fucking wet you are. Your pussy is slick and hot and drenched as you roll your hips up and down on top of him. “I’m not that scary.”

“Shit—you’re—” Steven stammers, tugging a fistful of your hair and fucking up into you as best as he can in this position. “Donna said—said romantic involvements with coworkers are against policy.”

You nip his earlobe. “I’m your neighbor first—checkmate.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says fondly, leading you into a brief kiss.

Fuck, you like being on top of him like this—reckless and bold and skirting the edge of just plain stupid. Someone might come looking soon, but shit, you’re getting close again. You bite your lip, hips canting into a harder pace, delighted by his sweet moans and carnal need for you. He murmurs your name and you gasp, eyes squeezed shut and just trying to breathe through the flood of arousal that threatens too uproot your entire being.

“Shit, you feel good, Steven,” you say, carding your fingers through his hair. “S’good—keep going—that’s it.”

Steven makes a near pained, ragged gasp of a sound—one that sears right into your memory with no hope of ever shaking it. Everything pulls up hot and tight, settling low and as you start to grind down hard on him. Fuck, you’re almost there—

And then something shifts—you don’t know how to explain it really— a subtle change in the way he holds himself and draws his shoulders back. An air of confidence normally absent from Steven’s relatively meek nature. A wicked gleam that sparks behind those warm, brown eyes that always remind you of the countryside—endless summers and the honey-golden light of sunsets through one of those kaleidoscope sticks.

You’re flipped so quickly that the world spins, leaving you dizzy and scrambling for a foothold. Damn your low iron. Your back slams into the tiled floor, his thick arms shoving up under your legs and positioning your hips over his thighs. And then he starts fucking you—really fucking you.

It’s fucking crippling. The new angle and brutal speed is like a chain reaction of powder kegs to a lighter. All you can do is dig your nails into his arms and sob for him, arching and blankly staring at the patchy cement ceiling, letting his hips collide roughly with yours as he fucks you down hard into the linoleum tiles—you’re gonna have bruises on your ass.

His mouth is at your neck as he mutters darkly against your throat, his clipped accent devolving into a near unfamiliar scrape. It could be a trick of the mind, and frankly you don’t care. You squeak as his hands dig into the flesh of your ass. “Fuck, Ziggy—you like this?”

“I’m—” you gasp, eyes screwing up as your wrestle with words. “Ye-yes.”

“You’re making me a fuckin’ mess, love,” he growls. “Did I make you this wet?”

He’s hard and throbbing, imbedding his claws into your very soul and dragging you though cloud nine. You’re ears start to ring—so fucking close to the edge and begging for him to finish you off.

“You’re heaven,” he snarls. He drops to his elbow, shifting his weight so he can reach between your legs. You cry and jolt into his fingers as the slip between your lips and easily finds your swollen clit.

Your lungs tighten to the point of limiting your breaths to patchy gasps. “Steven—close.”

He murmurs your name and rubs tight circles over your clit, pounding directly where you need him too. Your eyes roll back, spine suddenly goes rigid.

“Fuck—I’m cumming,” you whine, frantic and rushed, breathless as you claw at his shirt and exposed chest. Everything pulls up sharp and burning, your cunt squeezing around his cock like a vice. “Steven—”

“Fuck, yes—” he gasps, “—shit, let me f-feel you—”

Steven keeps babbling, but it’s all fluff by this point. Your pulse roars in your ears, body locking down so fucking tight around him hat you’re afraid something might snap. Steven keeps fucking you as your orgasm rips through you with such force that your voice warbles, the blaze of white hot bliss picking you apart stitch by stitch. Steven rubs your clit, pines your hips with his own and pistons inside of you—throwing you to a raw plane of explosive pleasure. His head drops to your shoulder, muttering filthy praise you’d never think someone like Steven would ever think to say—

You cry his name, repeating it over and over like a mantra, breathlessly in time with his ruthless thrusts. One more roll of his hips and pass oof his fingers and you’re gone. Your hand clenches around his hair as sparks of blurry white alight behind your eyelids, back arching off the floor and into his chest. Steven fucks you through your orgasm, even as you squirm and shake in his firm hold. Ecstasy implodes behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes.

“Ziggy,” he breathes, “almost there—”

Three more rough, bruising thrusts, and he’s cumming inside you, painting your insides with his warm spend. His sweet, gravelly moan echoes in the small space and Jesus Christ—you’re dizzy. He pants against your neck as he leans his full weight over you, arms snaking under your back to hold you close. You can feel his heart like this, thrumming wildly in his chest. You thread your fingers through his hair, gently carding through the frazzled knots of your frantic pulling. The silence that follows swells with petrichor and flower petals that glow white in the pale light of moon—he smells like old books and Irish Spring—a new comfort.

“Steven?”

“Hm.”

“Can you hand me that bag of crisps—yeah, right by that shelf.”

What’s better than this? Spicy crisps and orgasms. Though, hopefully next time you do this, it’s on a bed.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector

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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~~~

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @whatsliferightnow @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @alexxavicry @autismsupermusicalassassin @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sugarpunch-princess @violet-19999 @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ghostheartbeat @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless

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lunalockley · 2 years

Text

3. The confession

Masterlist

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, sort of sub!Steven, oral male!receiving, just Steven being a hot mess

Summary: Steven blurts out so much information at once that your mind is clouded enough to think straight

Words: 3.2 k

Notes: Thanks again for all your support! Your comments make so so so so happy. I hope you like this one, we are getting into it! Comments or suggestions are always welcome <3

Previous chapter

gif credit

You sat on the sofa with damp hair.

Now, after what feels like more than fifteen minutes, your hair is already dry and Steven hasn’t said a word yet. Every time he opens his mouth he shuts it a second later, frustrated. You try to remain patient but the worry is winning you over.

Your body is slowly tensing as you watch him shift in his position, adjust his clothes and hold his hands on his stomach over and over again. He keeps glancing at your doorway almost like he had lost the courage and was ready to physically escape this conversation any minute.

Soon you realize he’s not just nervous about what he has to say, he's anxious.

You want to break the bubble he’s in, kiss his cheek and massage the tension away but you don’t want him to feel pressured or rushed. You want to respect his own time to open up.

Yet curiosity is eating you alive. What could he have to say to be in this state? That he doesn’t even know how to start? Is he married? Is he a fugitive? Is he in danger? Is he scaping someone or something? In which case, would he be the good guy or the bad guy?

Even when the image of your cute neighbor purposely hurting someone seems completely ridiculous to you, it takes you by surprise the thought that comes next.

Would that make any difference to you and how you feel about him?

It shocks you that, even now, you’re just… intrigued, not afraid. Whatever is tormenting him you want to help, not run away.

The acknowledgment illuminates feelings you’re not ready to name.

You intervene when his breathing quickens, he’s getting more and more disturbed with every passing second.

“I wish I could follow wherever you go when you get lost in your mind” you whisper, moving the soft curls away from his face, catching the attention of his eyes.

Steven immediately stops the whirlpool he’s in, melting at your touch. The emotion produced by your words echoes inside him, in hearts still fighting not to let you in completely.

“I’m looking a bit dodgy, aren’t I?” He asks, concerned.

“Just a little bit,” you joke with a soft smile.

He leans in to steal a kiss from your lips. Then he inhales and, finally, speaks.

He starts with the history of Egyptian Gods, he tells you about The Ennead, about Taweret, Ammit and Konshu, the God of the Moon. How he intervenes in human lives, protecting the travelers of the night through his avatar.

And you are completely lost, trying to follow the completely unexpected path his rapid babble has taken through ancient names and beliefs until—

Until Steven says he was an avatar himself for a brief period of time.

He tells you about the things that happened in Egypt, about why he had to go so urgently. How he went inside the pyramids and discovered the tomb of Alexander the Great. How even when he experienced things he couldn’t ever imagine existed he was relieved he wasn’t Konshu’s avatar anymore.

You are trying to make sense of the things he’s saying but it’s too much information to take all at once. He’s jumping from one thing to another. Just a few minutes ago you weren’t even sure you believed in god, much less in the plural sense of the word.

He’s talking about things your brain is struggling to accept.

But you see truth in his eyes, in the way he’s telling you all this. He believes what he’s saying.

Making you, somehow, believe it too.

So when he meets your eyes, expectantly, all you can say is:

"I don't understand—I don't understand most of it… or any of it. But I believe you."

Your words seem to reassure him because just when he hears them he tells you about Marc.

Marc.

Marc and their little brother.

He talks about the accident. About Marc being Konshu’s avatar. About how during all these years he didn’t even know about Marc until just a few months ago.

“I was afraid, I couldn’t tell the difference between my waking life and my dreams. I would go to sleep, then have these violent nightmares, then wake up in the middle of my life without remembering how did I get there,” he keeps blurting out, a little bit calmer this time, with your interlaced with his. “And—and Konshu terrified me the first few times he appeared in front of me, searching for Marc. Seeing him I thought I had lost my mind”.

He explains to you how he feels him, how Marc lives in the silences between his thoughts. How he knows he’s there even when he’s not speaking to him.

And how Marc didn’t want Steven to tell you all of this.

“Marc was constantly reminding me that I shouldn’t get too attached to you, that I shouldn’t let my hopes up because you didn’t know about Konshu, about what had really happened in Egypt and about him, about his existence. So every time I would try to tell you he would talk me out of it saying that you might not be ready yet. That it—that it might scare you off. And I tried making him understand that you wouldn’t but he just repeated that I would lose you over and over and it started to get into my head. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner but I didn’t know how either. The whole thing sounds taken out of a bloody weird-magical-ancient-creepy Disney story, doesn’t it?”

It kind of did.

You get that part. But why did he start the conversation with all The Moon God thing? It would have been easier to explain and follow if he had started telling you about Marc first. Was he —or were they— more concerned about your reaction to Marc’s existence than about them being some sort of god’s incarnation? Those times you've seen Steven lose himself in thought was he actually talking to Marc? Was Marc the one in the elevator and was he earlier in the bathroom when you felt Steven’s demeanor change? Had he been around more than those two times and you didn't realize it?

“Is he with us now? Listening to the conversation?” You hear yourself ask out loud.

You have so many questions and all of them are forming inside your head at the same time.

“No, no… He left when I started talking because he didn’t want me to.”

Has he been forced to spend time with you? Is that the reason he didn't want you to know about him? Because you might want to meet him? Or maybe it's that Marc doesn't trust you? Steven said he had taken care of him since they were little. Maybe he didn’t approve of you?

“Was he right?” he asks with a softer voice and a harder grip on your hand.

The vulnerability behind his eyes blanks your mind for a moment.

“What? Sorry, was he right about what?”

“About me losing you.”

He’s looking at you as if he is waiting to listen to a death sentence and you know him enough to see he really believes that you are going to reject him, that you are going to run away. A part of your heart breaks with the idea of them believing they have to hide themselves to be loved. You want to hurt whoever has hurt them before. And although right now your head is not working well with all the information you just received, knowing that you need to process it all, you are sure that both now and tomorrow, a week or a month later your heart will feel the same way for him.

“Why would you? You are still you.”

A thousand different emotions and thoughts pass through his face, but instead of trying to vocalize any of them, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you in a way he has never done before.

Strong, passionate, as in a form of recognition: you may feel for me the same as I feel for you.

And although the lack of air is clouding your head more than already is, you kiss him back with the same intensity. Telling him without words: I do, I do, I do.

All of your senses are soon overtaken by him. And even when the last functioning part of your brain is telling you that you probably shouldn't be doing this right now as soon as he’s moaning in your mouth your reasoning is walking out of the room, leaving you alone with Steven and his lips on your skin, and his hands on your hips pushing you against him, and the heat of his body warming yours, and the smell of his essence making you want to be closer and closer, and the feel of him already hard under you.

“Love, you’ll have to guide me through this,“ his mouth whispers against your ear before devoting itself to spread eager kisses throughout your neck. You’re not sure if the goosebumps that take over you are induced by his lips or his words. Or by the low hum he gives you when you throw your head back to give him more space, unable to resist him. Or by how his hands keep holding your hips, slowly grinding you into him. Probably all of them.

But when he reaches your clavicle you hold his face between your hands to stop him. As much as you want to take off his clothes and just jump into him you want to be loving and gentle, just like he’s with you. You don't have to go all the way in tonight, you can show him other things.

“We’ll take it slow. You can change your mind any time, ok?”

You wait till he nods in understanding to begin unbuttoning his shirt, following the new path of exposed skin with a racing heart and shaky fingers. You never thought skin could be attractive, but his is. It’s inviting even, all velvet soft and golden dim glow under the faint light of your bedroom.

When you finally reach the last button, you take a moment to run your palm from his lower stomach all the way up to his cheek at an unhurried, steady pace. Your fingers tingle as you get a better feel of his smooth skin and strong muscles and your poor heart contracts hearing how his breathing is altered just by the light touch of your hand.

“You are gorgeous, in every way,” you can’t help saying, meeting his eyes when he huffs in response.

“Now you’ll have to prove to me I’m not dreaming 'cause you’ve said things like that in my dreams before.”

So you do.

You prove to both of you this is not a dream by pushing him into the mattress to have more room to leave gentle kisses on his chest, above his hammering heartbeat; tender bites on his shoulder, his ribcage, and his hand when he moves your hair out of your face to have a better look of you; licks that instantly flex his muscles every time you get close to the beginning of his trousers; the mere trace of your lips over his heated skin just to feel him shiver underneath.

And he just takes anything you give him, accepts anything you do to him with shaky breath and devoted eyes.

You back up to sit on his lap again and can’t help but run your nails over his smoothly muscled chest while making eye contact, inviting him without pronouncing a word.

In a second he gets up, eager to take off your shirt and turn you around, mirroring your actions and adding up his own.

First, he approaches the exposed skin with his fingertips, almost as if he still wanted to check the reality of the situation, of you under him, half-naked, flushed, happy, and willing.

The soft sighs his touch coaxes out of you must be credible enough because then he’s caressing you with his mouth. Leisurely tracing the curves of your shoulder, your ribcage, and your stomach, stopping at the cup of your bra.

“Can I take it off you?”

His breathless voice never so dark before, clouds your mind and exposes you.

“You can do anything you want to me, Steven.”

His shocked gasp it's the last thing you get before you feel him cupping one breast and sucking the other. Your stomach clenches as his hot tongue traces your nipple and he moans against you, delighted by the way you’re arching under his touch.

His eyes don’t leave your face, memorizing every single one of your reactions, as he instinctively develops a pattern of softly biting the tip just to soothe it with tender licks and soft kisses afterward. It’s glorious. But the sensations are too strong to remain still anymore, you need to touch him too.

You take advantage of the fact that his mouth is making its way to your other breast, leaving small kisses on your sternum, to hold his face and guide him to your mouth and kiss him fervently, confessing to him things you don’t dare yet to say in words. And he answers to all of them, with every vehement move of his tongue against yours.

You slip one finger inside the edge of his trousers, tracing the skin under the fabric. Involuntarily, his hips thrust into you at the motion.

“Can I take them off?” You ask over his mouth.

He backs up to look at you, giving you one of those soft loving smiles you are always craving so much.

“You can also do anything you want to me, love.”

Love, love, love.

He doesn’t have any idea the power he holds on you every time he calls you love.

A little bit more desperate than you would like to recognize and faster than you thought possible, you get rid of his pants. And now you’re attacking him all the way up to his thighs, caressing his skin until he’s breathing ragged and harder than ever under his boxers.

His neglected erection getting all of your attention now, unable to even try avoid it anymore.

You ignore the primal impulse to beg him let you touch him, waiting to move only after you get his confirmation.

“Please.” It’s all he says.

You slowly palm him through his underwear, savoring the feel of him.

“Please,” he whimpers once more and all pleasantries are pushed aside as your hand finds its way to hot naked flesh.

Dear god.

He’s thick, silky, and perfect. And so ready for you.

He throbs under your touch as you get him out of his underwear. Once it's free you can’t help but stop for a moment to take him in. How can he be so pretty? Everywhere, every part of him, he’s gorgeous. Your heart hammering faster than ever under your chest and your mouth watering just by looking at him.

You move tentatively one finger over his tip, brushing the precum all over his length. Slowly, you start adding fingers, tracing his figure making him get used to your touch. And stars, the way he reacts to your caresses is everything.

Seeing him this wrecked, this hot and desperate just by your hand is making you so wet. You wrap your whole palm around him to jerk him off with harder, but longer motions watching the muscles under his slight stomach flex.

“Please, more I just—Please,” he begs again, his raspy tone seeping deep inside you, adding up to the warmth on your lower belly. He whimpers, watching in awe as he thrusts himself rock-hard and pulsating into your hand, unable to hold still any longer.

You’re not trying to tease him, you’re just figuring out what he wants. Does he want it faster? Does he want your mouth?

You lean in to kiss his hipbone and then—

At the first touch of your tongue, Steven is overwhelmed with the need to confess he loves you, the urge to cry, and the fear he actually might pass out. The contact is enough to send all the blood in his body rushing to his dick making him lose all sense of gravity. As if it wasn't enough that every one of his senses —overflowing with the feel of you— had him already dizzy now your mouth is making him feel in ways he didn’t even think were possible to feel.

So he raises his head to at least try to express one of all the things he's feeling, but then he sees you taking him all the way into your mouth, feeling you moaning against him, and all he can do is choke at a sight he knows it will haunt him in every dream and fantasy from now on until the day he dies.

Your body fills with fire at the taste of him and you can’t help but take as much as of him as you can into your mouth. Your now unoccupied palm finds its way down to massage his balls, desperate to feel him.

And god, his broken panting must be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Wa—wait! Stop. Please, wait,” he calls and you instantly stop taking him out of your mouth. “Sorry, love. I just—I was about to come in your mouth and I—”

“I want you to come in my mouth, baby. Don’t you?”

The ragged cry he gives you as an answer as he throws his head back against the mattress is enough for you to take him back into your mouth again.

His body is now covered in a thin sheen of sweat and impossibly rigid, you notice he’s still holding back. That won't do it.

You take him as far as your throat lets you and run your nails from his lower tummy to the very base of his cock. His stomach flexes under your touch and then he’s cumming, throbbing inside your mouth just like you wanted him to.

You drain him until he’s just a beautiful trembling mess that repeats your name in choked whispers without stopping.

You pull up to take a better look at his stunning body completely relaxed on your bed, but then the whole picture, the way his eyes meet yours with more love and devotion than ever feels so domestic and intimate, more than everything you’ve done today, has a full-force impact into your heart.

You lower your head again to kiss his hipbone, humming happily thinking about how much you enjoyed this even if you didn’t come yourself. Satisfied with how close you feel to him right now.

You are kissing his lower stomach when his fingers brush your hair away from your face.

“Is my turn now, isn’t it love?” he asks, still panting underneath you.

Wait, what?

———————————————

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niilue · 2 years

Note

Happy 1k! I was kinda shy abt requesting for seth but then I saw your post and I was like👀 everything for my pretty meow meow

I'll request for a drabble- male reader with seth(ennead)+prompt 11 + (content) degradation

‧₊˚⊹ sub seth x male top! reader

prompt: "you’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught."

cw; drabble, dom reader, male reader, degradation, hard fuck inspired by this video words; 471 1k event

you had been fucking seth for hours and he didn't seem to understand every time you told him to shut up. he screamed like a whore, as if you had never fucked him before.

"fuck seth, "you'd better be quiet if you don't want to get caught."

as you penetrated his ass on all fours you leaned on his hair and shoulder to pull him closer to you so you could go in harder.

"(namenamename!), it's too... so- aaaagh- good."

"i know you're all slutty for my cock, but shut up, you're annoying."

seth whimpered, taking your own hand and directing it to his mouth to quiet his moans.

yes, that's better, you said, increasing the movements. you didn't even know how many times they had already cum. only that seth's penis was licking all over the sheets and his asshole was completely filled with your cum.

you loved watching seth's ass bounce on your cock. it was big and wide enough to take it. you loved stopping penetrating him to watch him all desperate to be the one self-penetrating. taking it all in.

your cock filled with your own cum and seth's fluids was pumping in and out of his asshole, staining the redhead's own back as well as your abdomen. your balls still full of semen kept banging against seth.

you felt the warmth of his entrance squeezing you so good. it was driving you crazy. you couldn't hold back and every now and then you were cumming inside him. but you were still so hard and eager to break and abuse seth even more.

and he didn't seem to mind, as you kept silencing his cries with your hand he would look at you from time to time with a face full of desire pushing you more on top of him.

such a slut

"y-you're so...so big.... i need you, more more, more." seth gasped, pulling your hand out of his mouth and rolling his eyes excitedly as he smiled sadistically.

you penetrated him again, hard, without pulling out, as you moved closer to his face, making him moan from how deep you were in him.

"you're so dirty seth, you're such a fucking pervert," you said, pulling his hair and watching as the redhead still smiled as strands of saliva ran down his mouth.

"i am, i am, i'm a dirty bitch, just yours," he whimpered, starting to move, looking for friction, he couldn't go a second without you getting him pregnant.

you smiled loving to see this part where seth didn't care how bad you treated him, he gladly took it all and enjoyed the dirty sex they had.

“so you can't live without me fucking you, seth?"

he nodded repeatedly. he was totally into sex, anything you told him he was going to take.

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yonaioana · 1 year

Note

Can You do A Seth x Husband reader Smut

Where the reader Makes sure he's comfortable and He feels safe...and makes sure his trauma isn't triggered and is always gentle and soft whenever they have sex bcs the reader knows about what he experienced

I wanna know How Seth would react.

Thank you!

FINALLY DONE!! This took way longer than i wanted, i am so sorry, i am not good at writing smut so it takes way longer to write it compared to fluff. So the timeline is after everything that happened with Osiris, the start of the fanfic is plot because I dont write porn without plot.

WARNING: smut, oral,

You were like a god on the other side of ennead and seth kinda just ran away to escape Osiris and the others and basically ended up in your temple. You left ennead a long time ago due to some issues with the others and some of them belived you died or something but you just built yourself a temple like fortress far far away so none of the other gods had the power to hurt you.

So when Seth stumbled inside in his attempt to escape and you told him that no other god had power in that temple other than you he imedately asked if he could stay. Seeing the fearfull look in his eyes at the thought of going back you accepted immediately, you grew closer as time passed by, even asked him out on a date, wich scared him at first thinking you will start behaving like all the other bastards chasing him. To his surprise after asking you leave to give him space and time to think. He came to you a week later with a hesitant yes. You were overjoyed but didnt show it much, not to scare him away, you were a little more affectionate but still kept a safe distance. A little over a year pased since you started dating, you were going to propose and you were very confident he would say yes, a few months after you got toghether he started seeking out your love more and more. He was like a cat tho, sometimes he would look for you lay around you and wait for you to take the hint, a hug, a kiss or simple pats but hold him a little too long and he's pushing you off with all his strenght.

Meanwhile Seth was getting more relaxed day by day, he hasn't seen anyone else from ennead in so long they either gave up on looking for him, couldn't find him or you just didnt allow them to enter your temple. Whatever it was he loved spending time with you, tho he found it weird that you didnt make any sexual advances on him, only letting him do what he wanted or if you initiated anything it would be almost always you sucking him off while he was fingering himself. The moment he came you would get up and leave to take care of the problem on your own, you belived that if you ever lose control and go rough on him you will lose him, he would hate you, look at you with fear or discust, you just couldnt. Seth understood what you were doing, trying to protect him, but he wanted you buried deep inside of him but also didn't want to ask. He hoped you would understand what he wanted when he whiggled his hips in the air while you were cleaning him or how he would sit on your lap grinding on your thigh.

He found out about the proposal you were planing when he came looking for you only to see you surounded by servants that were preparing to go out for materials. You wanted to make the proposal special and you asked your servants to decorate the temple with flowers and pretty fabrics. Seth liked that you were making an effort for him but he also wanted to actually get to have sex with you before marrying you. So with his mind set on the ideea he snuck away from the preparations. That night while you were half asleep, reading some scrools he came in the room, a small bottle of oil behind his back. You looked up at him and put your scrolls away but when you tried to get up to make space for him he placed his hand on your shoulder, stoping you, and just sat in your lap. You hugged his waist like you always do. He started kissing you simultaneously moving his hips, soon you got hard, while you were kissing down his neck while he reached down for your cock, he lowered himself as your penis springed up. You could see his eyes, hungry and a little dazed, as he tried to take you in his mouth you held his face, silently asking if he was sure, he softly pushed your hands away and wrapped his mouth around it. You had to grip the sheets tight in order to hold yourself back from bucking your hips. You wanted to hold back, to let him have control while he was teasing your tip in hopes you lose it. After a few minutes of sucking he got a little frustrated and justas you were going to cum he got up. You wached as he lined himself over your dick, pulling out the oil bottle and stickin a finger in his ass. As he was preparing himself you grabed both your dicks rubbing them toghether. He gaspped, his legs giving out causing him to fall in your lap. His arms legs started shaking so you laid him down on the bed, now sitting right above him. He removed his hand spreading himself open for you. Pushing your tip slowly inside him he raised his arms to hold onto your shoulders. You kissed him softly while waiting for him to adjust, one of his hands travelled up to your scalp, giving you permission to start you pulled out a little before thrusting back, your eyes trained on his expresion. His precum dribling down on his stomach, after one particular thrust he pushed his hips into you until he bottomed out, his dick twiched violently. He begged you to go faster, and faster, he could feel you rubbing against his gspot but not quite hitting it, he needed more, more of you, he needed you to go harder. He suddenly pushed you down on your back and bottoming out again, le leaned down smashing his lips against yours as he continued a more brutal pace. He held your hands on either side of your head as you were hopelessly gazing into his eyes while he was bouncing on your cock. You were getting close and judging by the twiching of his dick you could tell he was right on the edge, his eyes rolling back, his mouth wide open trying to catch his breath, his nails slightly cutting into your shoulders. You reached up cupping his face in your hands and asked in a hushed voice " do you want me to pull out or can I cum inside???". Coming back from his daze, and furrowing his brows a little he said " don't you dare pull out". While yes it did remind him of the other times where he didn't really get a choice he knew you would stop the moment he said anything or even winced in pain no matter how close you are, and thats what he loved so much about you, he wanted you to replace those bad memories and realize that he wants you to be the only one for him. With a few more thrusts he came all over your and his chest, wrapping his trembling legs around your waist as you sat up to hold him better. You came soon after, letting Seth rest on your shoulder as you were coming back from you high. He was half asleep hugging your neck, you tried to pull out and he whined tightening his hold. Realizing he doesnt want you to pull out yet you opted for slowly laying down allowing him to fall asleep on your chest.

He woke up clean in his sleeping robes the room full of colourfull flowers and you on one knee at the head of the bed ( I dont know what the place where the nightstand stands is called) " Will you marry me?". He rolled to the edge of the bed closer to you extending his hand towards you allowing you to place the ring on his finger. Pulling you closer by your clothes into a kiss and dragging you down in bed with him" Don't you want to eat? The servants made some of our favourite" Seth laid his head on your chest and wrapped an arm around your waist wit a simple "later". You kissed his forehead while rubbing the back of his head, he looked up giving you a kiss.

" My beautiful husband"

#ennead x reader #ennead #seth x reader #seth

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nicktremblaywayfu · 2 years

Text

The Goddess tied our fate (1/2)

Chapter 1 : One Merciful Night.

Author Note : Patient! Arthur needs more fics and i’m here bringing my smut series of him

Summary : Having an internship in this asylum was always giving you new experience. Your duty was simple, to take care of the patients, helping the nurse and doctors, sometimes taking notes for them. This particular patient named Arthur Harrow however, intrigued you. He was strange, bizzare, yet alluring.

Rating : 18+ (Adults Only !)

Pairing : Arthur Harrow x F! Reader

Characters : Arthur Harrow, You (reader)

Warning : Slightly dubcon

Tags : Body possession, a hint of Ammit wanting the reader in THAT way, the reader is early 20s, Porn with semi-plot, Older man x Younger woman, age differences, height differences, power play, emotional manipulation, oral (male receiving), hair pulling, half-naked, using threats, porn with semi plot

Words : 2397

Available on Ao3 as well

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"Oh please, let me help you with that" It was the second time today he spilled his own decaf coffee. And right before he spilled it, "sand" murmured from his mouth. And he was always half conscious.

You cleaned the table, tidied it up again. He was still in sedative effect, making you wonder why they put him in such a state everyday. Almost, at the very least. There wasn't much on his table. Scribbled paper, markers, a rubber duck in doctor outfits, and coffee that he spilled. The rubber duck however, it was one of the most interesting out of those things.

"Once I had a dream, where I became a doctor and my patient was Khonshu's avatars. All of them are troubled and I was there to help." He told you his dream a week ago. He stated that the dream continued for the whole week, every night without fail.

You glanced at him, now already sleeping. There was a scales tattoo on his right arm, two crocodile heads holding the plate of the scales. You thought that he probably really liked Egyptian Enneads, as those gods were what he often told you about. Their story, how the Moon God abused him, how the Judgment Goddess saved him, and many more. You didn't exactly believe his story, yet there was a possibility. You saw the news 2 months ago, a pair of giant Gods fighting and two superheroes fighting bad guys on the screen. Strangely enough, you didn't see who they were fighting clearly. There was a glimpse of the main enemy, but the news focused on the gigantic Gods accidentally destroying the pyramid. Media blamed them for the destruction around, but that's all they can do. The gods have disappeared once again.

"What are you looking at?" The voice startled you, realizing you were drowned in your thoughts for minutes.

The voice however, there was something strange about it. A faint monstrous note can be heard for a second. You looked at the shoulder-length haired patient. Just minutes ago he was in deep sleep, now he glared at you sharply. Did they reduce his sedative dose ? There was no way a human could jump from unconsciousness this fast. Last time you were sedated, you needed hours to fully recover from the dizziness you got.

"Nothing, I was just thinking of some random things to entertain myself. I'll be back with a cup of water instead, alright? I'll put it in a bottle so you don't have to worry about spilling it." A smile was replied with a straight, sharp gaze from Arthur. Like he was plotting for revenge, but for whom exactly? You didn't do anything bad to him. Infact, you were mostly the one taking care of him. Hell you actually once bathed him, in which of course he gave you the permission.

He didn't answer, you politely step away to the kitchen, taking your necessity for him. As you returned, he was staring at nothing. You have no clue you should feel relieved or worried. No, he was not just staring at nothing. He was focusing, thinking of something. Perhaps having a conversation in his thoughts.

"Arthur, are you all right?" A soft pat on his shoulder startled him. Like he returned to himself, the sight of his tired old face was what you saw now. This was not the face you saw minutes ago, no. His mental note didn't state any sign of DID, and the way he acted was more like possessed.

"I'm fine." a soft stroke on your hand caught you off-guard. His hands were rough, but comfortable enough to touch. You quickly pulled your hand, not wanting to make other nurses or patients suspicious of you.

He gave you a smirk, then returned to his gaze of nothing again. You took a look at the clock, 8 pm. For some people, that was an early hour to sleep but for Arthur, he needed 12 hours of sleep every night. Which already include him having episodes of randomly screaming in agony, sobbing in sadness, or once he even destroyed his own room with bare hands. Bed was flipped, the table was thrown. Shards of glass and his bloody footprints had become the floor carpets. He shouted to the guards and nurses, but the way he spoke was nothing human. He even bellowed like a real crocodile. The growls were way too authentic even for the most talented voice actors.

"It's bedtime Arthur." Your words were short, taking him in his wheelchair to his ward.

"Evening, hmph. The time where everything could happen. I hope she had mercy on me tonight." He let out a velvety chuckle.

She ? Was he talking about the doctor ? a nurse ? But you were the only one taking care of him these days, other than doctors having therapy sessions with him. No nurses or other internship staff were brave enough to be near Arthur. There was one, yet she was relieved knowing that you took her work on him. No words coming out from your mouth, as you sided with silence.

Arriving at his room, darkness was the only one greeting you both. Lamp was turned on as you prepared the bed and helped the old man get up from his wheelchair. He was kinda limp, but way better than hours ago. He sat on the bed, looking at you to put his wheelchair in the corner of the room and opening the window to let in the breeze. You gave him his meds based on the prescription, and made sure he was comfortable enough as well adjusting the light for him to sleep.

"I'll be here until 9 pm if you need anything. Well, to be fair, I was supposed to leave the room immediately after this but they gave me a permit. Just in case.." You weren't sure about continuing your sentence, which he already took a note of.

He just nodded, smirked before he slumped onto the bed. You pulled out your phone to kill time. Phone wasn't actually allowed in the patient room for safety and privacy, yet you managed to smuggle it inside your underwear. 5 minutes before the clock hit 9 pm, Arthur awoke from his sleep. Actually, he didn't sleep at all.

"He hasn't slept since you were here." The similar, monstrous voice emitted from his mouth. You froze in your place, weren't daring enough to look at what sat in front of you. The room was dark, the moon only shone on his lower body.

"He was lonely here. I am a goddess, he is a mortal. A mortal needs another mortal companion. That's how the law of nature goes." Your thumb stopped from mindless scrolling on social media.

"Entertain him, mortal. After all, you were the one responsible for his well-being."

"How..do I entertain him?"

"By giving him what he needs, mortal." A deep, husky chuckles were heard in the room.

"I gave him food. I gave him drink, I gave him everything- who are you?!" You put your phone away, stood up and walked towards Arthur, which seemed to be possessed by something else.

"I am his goddess. And you will obey me, do what I said and I will give this flesh prison a mercy for tonight." You gulped, you were facing a possibly supernatural thing. You could tell the guards or the doctor, yet you do not wish to make it worse for Arthur.

"Don't you wanna enjoy his body? To give him a pleasure you desired. I can feel it whenever you are around him. You were always there when everyone gave up."

"No i- I can't just do that thing here ! That's just straight unethical, He wasn't even conscious of consent. " Your voice was firm, making whatever controlling Arthur disappointed.

"Whatever he feels, I feel it. I remember that night he was battling his thought of your naked body on him, bouncing on his dick while him grasping on your breast. Oh he was drooling with the dirty thought, it was a very mortal need yet here i am. Whenever he suffered, I suffered. '' You have no clue what to feel with the very specific statement of the goddess, yet you weren't really mad.

You admitted to yourself that you too had dirty thoughts about him especially when you saw his body. Thick pecs with round stomach, a dreamy dad body type. His arms still show strength as well his veins showing. You just sighed, words losing from your thoughts. How in hell you would have sex with a patient you were responsible for?

“It didn’t have to be exactly what he thought, right? All I need to do is satisfy his lust, is that true ?” You bargained with this goddess creature inside him.

“That would depend on the result.” The answer wasn't exactly what you wanted, but you got no choice.

You peeked outside of the room, then locked it twice. You unbutton your shirt, taking off your bra. Now you were half naked in front of Arthur and his goddess inside.You kneeled in front of Arthur, unzipping his pants and stripping it off. That Goddess was right, right in front you was revealed an erection throbbing veiny cock. Pre cum even already dripping from the tip. You took it for a foreplay first, licking the shaft slowly from the base to the tip. Arthur growled, his voice sounded like a bellowing crocodile.

“I shall leave this pleasure to him. After all, he was the one who needed it.” In a blink of an eye, Arthur flinched like he just woke up from a lucid dream. He looked around, then at what lies in front of him.

“It wasn’t.. a dream ?” He cupped your cheek with one of his palms. His voice was rough, but not monstrous.

“Your goddess told me to.” You could tell he had mixed feelings about this. The embarrassment if they found out was beyond imagination.

“I can stop if you want to. I do not wish to force you in this-”

“No. Please continue.” You just nodded, continuing giving his cock a taste of your saliva.

Now You continued on lapping, sucking his throbbing cock. Your tongue was so wet, he could clearly feel it. His legs shook slightly as you put his cock deeper to your throat. You were now sucking, bobbing up and down on his cock slowly. When you did so, he grabbed onto your hair. His hands were warm, but not painful. Quite pleasant, indeed. Head thrown to the back, He groaned in pleasure.

You continued doing this for a while, till you felt his cock getting heavy. He had already been hard from the beginning, but now his head started throbbing.

“Oh my goddess,...please..” His eyes pleaded you, wanting more of you

You stopped for a second, looking into his eyes. They were filled with regret mixed with desire for you. Without saying a word, you moved back to your spot and resumed your work. Arthur moaned, but you were barely hearing his voice, your ears were filled with the sound of his breathing.

This was wrong, so wrong. What are you doing? Pleasure battling with regret, yet you have no intention to stop. You have enjoyed the job his goddess gave to you. Your tongue wrapped around his tip, catching Him off guard. You took the whole length of him, feeling his muscles tighten.

“Do you really think I’m worthy of this treatment?” He asked with his hoarse voice, trying to suppress the sounds he was releasing from himself.

“Of course.” Parting from his cock making a string of saliva, you replied.

“Hmmh. I am nothing but a failure. I deserved to rot here." He suddenly flinched, like something hitting him from the back.

"Isn't that the truth, My goddess? Here you are giving someone to satisfy my pleasure of sin." He stroked your hair softly, gazing at you soaked up with your own drool.

"I don't know what to say about that. I have no idea about you and your goddess." You were honest. This was the first time she directly had a conversation with you.

"Then we shall continue what we have started."

You nodded, putting his cock inside your mouth again. The way you gagged as it reached your throat making him moan. He grasped onto your hair, needing something to hold. You moved your head, tongue massaging his shaft while his tip continuously hitting the entrance of your throat.

Arthur was holding back the urge of coming. He closed his eyes tightly, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turned snowy white. He opened his eyes a little, just enough to look at you and noticed your swollen lips around his erection. It was too late though, he couldn’t hold himself anymore. He roughly moved your head like a toy of pleasure. His breaths became uncontrollable, heavy, and husky. You were choked on his cock, unable to breathe. At last, he gave a final thrust. He spilled right into your throat, then pulled out. You bit your bottom lip and tried to swallow him completely. You were in a mess, an enjoyable sight.

You wiped his cum left on the side of your mouth, as well the drools streamed onto your bare breast.

"Let me help you with that." Arthur stood then took some tissue to clean you up. He stopped for seconds, looking at your eyes under the moonlight shine.

"What is it?"

"No. Nothing." His answers were unusually short. He helped you dress again, as well he tidied up his clothes. It seemed like whatever happened, didn't happen. No evidence, no witness but the goddess herself and both of you.

He came closer to you and hugged you tightly, resting his head against yours.

"Thank you. For helping me out."

"Anything for you as long as you would be spared from misery." You closed your eyes and returned his hug. Clock showing that you were half-hour late from the time limit, you told him that you will return tomorrow morning for his breakfast and check up with the doctor. Just as you're about to head out, a familiar voice once again can be heard.

"I expected you to return tomorrow night, if you wanted him to have another peaceful night.”

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#arthur harrow #Arthur Harrow x reader #x reader #self-insert #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #mcu #marvel #marvel villain #ns/fw #smut

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