#moon knight sick fic
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His Comforting Touch
Marc Spector x Fem!Reader
Summary: You are on your period. This is the kind of thing Steven usually handles, but Marc was to prove to himself he can take care of you, be there for more than just great sex. Of course, he is really good at sex, and that might be what you need this time.
Warnings: Period stuff, lots of blood, *suffering*, all of this on period; fingering, oral, anal fingering (maybe I have an anal fixation idk what to tell you I love butt stuff), coming in pants (my fav)
A/N: just started my period. Was at work, used the bathroom, caught the literal first few drops before it even touched my underwear. that was the good news. The bad news was I didn't have anything other than one (1) tampon and was already having a bad day. Other good news is what I love about people who get periods is they will give anyone a tampon if they can. I made it.
A/N 2: This is from a chapter from my series Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside. I wanted to edit this chapter down to make it just a one shot. If you find the dynamics interesting, maybe check out the series but oh my god heed the warnings. Darker stuff. Anyway, if you are currently reading or plan to read Sunshine, don't skip over this chapter when you come to it. There is a LOT I edited out to make sense in a one shot. The actual chapter has a whole other smut scene in the bathtub and a very important argument. Also, the series has an OC, not a reader, so I changed all the names and pronouns to second person, so if I missed a "her" or a "Sam", just ignore that lol. Enjoy!
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My Love <3: I’m hemorrhaging
Marc about spit out his coffee. Logically, he knew that if you were actually hemorrhaging, you wouldn’t be texting him. It didn’t help the panic.
Steven with a V: ?!?!?!?!-M
My Love <3: Hi Marcy Marc! Hope I didn’t scare you.
Steven with a V: Why are you hemorrhaging?-M
You were used to texting Steven. Steven knew what ‘I’m hemorrhaging’ meant. As much as you loved Marc, and as much as the two of you have done some of the most filthy, disgusting things two humans in love can do to each other, somehow you couldn’t manage to be straightforward with Marc that you were on your period. You knew it wasn’t fair to put stereotypes on him, but Marc was Marc. He shoots guns and gets in fights, and was a marine… Steven bought you tampons and pads just to keep at his place in case of emergency, you hadn’t even asked for that. You had expected Steven to answer.
Steven with a V: OH! I see. Sorry, Steven’s resting for the evening.-M
Steven with a V: Are you okay?-M
You didn’t realize how much she’d been just… thinking
My Love <3: Sorry, got distracted. And don’t be sorry Steven’s out, I’m always happy to hear from you, Starlight.
Steven with a V: Do you need anything? I can get you some snacks or bring you Motrin?
My Love <3: No I’m good, thank you baby. I just wanted to complain.
Marc knew this was better as Steven’s department. Everything was Steven’s department. Steven cooked for you, took you on romantic, thoughtful dates. Steven knew what words to say and when to say none. When to hold you and when to fuck you. Marc really had thought maybe, just maybe, that would be his department. But Steven was good at that too. Steven didn’t need to do what Marc did to get you to cum multiple times a night, he could draw orgasm after orgasm from you with his mouth. Marc wasn’t sure if he remembered how to have sex without the slapping and the choking. He’d never say it, but the night you finally got together, he was terrified from multiple angles. The sex and the domesticity. The fact he said he loved you, that you said you wanted to be with him. It was against all his instincts to do this, to be domestic. That, again, Steven’s department. It had not gone well with Layla.
My Love <3: Did you have a good day honey?
You were changing the subject because you knew he was uncomfortable.You knew he couldn’t be what you needed. He needed to change something. He didn’t want to ruin what he had with you like he had with Layla. Marc briefly thought he should talk to Steven about this, Steven would be gung-ho for a heart to heart. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t drag Steven into his shit. Again. No, he knew what he had to do. He could make a start with you.
Steven with a V: Can I come over in a bit?-M
My Love <3: I would love that!
What would Steven do, what would Steven do
What would I do for what? He mumbled in the headspace, waking up.
Go back to bed, I got it.
Come on mate, let me help. What’s going on
She’s on her period, I want to help but really, I want to do this myself… I gotta prove it to myself that I can.
Okay, but wake me up if you need me
Will do, buddy
And Marc?
Yeah?
I think you’re really sweet
Shut up.
Marc walked around the store. Okay, what do girls like? Chocolate? Yeah, girls like chocolate on their period. Is that a stereotype? Layla never let him do much besides cook and clean when she was out of commission. Maybe he could do that. You always complained how messy your place was. Marc didn’t think it was actually dirty, just disorganized. You just had so much stuff. You liked memories. Yeah, he could help organize. He could also cook, not well but he could do it. You cooked Steven breakfast, Steven cooked you dinner. Marc looks at his watch. Okay, it’s 4. Plenty of time to get things and cook.
Marc got groceries for matzo ball soup, that used to make him feel better when he was a kid. Even after his mom stopped making Shabbat dinner, or any food in general, his dad was too busy to make anything most days. Marc was left to fend for himself. TV dinners, Kraft Mac and Cheese, chef boyardee… But one thing he could count on is if he was sick, his dad got him Matzo ball soup from the deli. If there was a game on (which there usually would be in Chicago) his dad would actually leave the office in their attic and come watch with him. Sometimes, if there was an important game on, Marc would pretend to be sick just to get his dad to watch with him.
Marc picked up some chocolate cake. Just in case.
He knocked, but there was no answer, so Marc let himself in with their spare key. He took a look around your little studio. You were dead asleep. He set down the groceries and put them away, washed the dishes and cleared away the trash. He took out the trash and the pizza boxes on the floor, making sure to change the bathroom trash as well. You stayed asleep. He frowned, you must really be out of it. He continued picking up the living room throwing away your twisted tea cans and the take out by your bedside that must’ve been lunch. Marc began cooking, when he dropped the pot and you still didn't wake he got worried. He set the almost-finished project on the stove to heat and went over to your bedside, couldn’t tell if you were breathing or not, and started to panic. There was no logical reason to think you were anything other than in a deep sleep, but he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding.
“Hey honey, you okay?” He attempted to stir you with shaky hands.
You eyes shot open with a gasp, and before either of them had a chance to think or move, you shouted.
“Marc!” You gasped for breath, sitting up and grasping your chest. “Oh my god, Marc, shit you scared me!”
“I’m sorry!” All he wanted to do was treat you special, and he managed to scare the fuck out of you.
“No, it’s okay, baby” You took a few beats before looking down. “Fuck.”
Marc followed your line of sight, there was blood leaking on the front of your light blue leggings. “I’ll get you clean pants, baby.” Marc scrambled up, walking to your dresser while you went to the bathroom. “Sweats or leggings, honey?”
“Sweats please, and new underwear. The ugly ones in the back.” You called out. Marc brought it over, knocking on the door.
You only opened the door enough to grab the clothing, but left the door cracked so you could keep talking. “This is the second pair of pants today. I got it at work, it was early. My friend had a spare change of clothes.” You peaked your head out, grinning. “Always gotta have spare clothes in childcare, but my last spare got puke on them on monday.” You tucked back away, digging for items below the sink. “It’s fucking heavy this time, shit fucking hurts. Elena stayed late so I could come home, my stomach hurt so bad.” You were rambling. “I feel like I’m bleeding out, tampons- fuck sorry, this is probably TMI”
Marc made himself comfortable on the floor sitting against the wall. “Honey, not to be too graphic but I’ve seen blood in plenty of other circumstances, and I’ve been married” Marc winced at mentioning Layla, this is why Steven was better at this. You knew, of course, that he had been married, but you never talked about it. Occasionally, Layla would call and Steven or Marc would talk to her, but it wasn’t often. He soldiered on. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Right, right” You sounded like you were convincing yourself. “Well, the tampons seem to bleed out every half hour or an hour. I didn’t think there was this much blood in a person.” The unmistakable sound of a pad opening.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Although this wasn’t his first rodeo, he still wasn’t sure how much was normal.
“Not unless it continues for a few days. This is probably just a heavy flow.”
Marc couldn’t help but worry, it was who he was as a person. There was the sound of thorough hand washing, then you opened the door, smiling lovingly at the sight of him looking at you wide-eyed from the floor. “I made you soup.”
You ate a hearty portion, showering Marc with “MMHHHMM” and “Oh my GOD baby this is fucking good.” The sounds were barely distinguishable from the sounds you made during sex, maybe just a little more dramatic.
“Fuck, Marc, that was so good. Good soup” she mimicked the tik tok audio. Marc noticed you wincing and holding your stomach. He pulled you over his lap and rubbed your tummy for you. After an episode, you got up to change your tampon again, and Marc heard her groaning from the bathroom. “Brightside? You okay?”
“Yeah, I opted for just the giant pad, Im sick of the fucking tampon.” You replied through gritted teeth. When you came out, you took more pain medicine and crawled back up into Marc’s arms. “This shit ain’t helping, I need fucking morphine. AH!” a burst of pain shot through you. You whimpered, hiding your face in his chest. “Starlight, it hurts.” You whined, knowing damn well he couldn’t do anything about it.
Marc considered for a moment. “Listen, I have an idea… It might help your cramps.” You looked at him suspiciously. “Ever had an orgasm during your period?”
You sat up, sickened but intrigued. “You want to have sex with me when I’m oozzing blood?”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be sex, it would just be me, giving you an orgasm.” You were… tearing up? “Or not! Whatever you need, Brightside…”
Your lip quivered, “You want to touch me when I’m this gross?” Youstarted crying, oh shit.
“Oh baby” Marc took you in for a hug. “You aren’t gross, and I always want to touch you” He held you close, cradling your head with his hand entangled in your hair. You mumbled something he couldn’t hear. “What was that sweetie?”
You lifted your head up, still crying a little “I’m so fucking horny.”
Marc couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “Stay here.” Marc stood up, still grinning to himself, and laid down a towel on your bed, then scooped you up from the couch. You felt his strong arms and his chest, flexing to carry you. He laid you down, took off your sweats, and leaned in to kiss you lovingly.
He walked around to the end of your bed, carefully pulling down her underwear and bloody pad and setting it carefully with your sweatpants “Tell me if anything hurts. You’re probably going to be sensitive, but it shouldn’t be painful.” He slowly started working on your clit, attempting to relax her before anything else.
“Marc, I can clean up-” You start, feeling embarrassed about the blood on your legs and vulva.
“Aht!” He chastised. “Relax. Again, this ain't my first rodeo.” He fought his biological reaction to get hard.
Slowly, he inserted a single finger in you, working it in and out while your swollen and sensitive pussy adjusted to him. “Ready for another?” He was fully hard, despite his best efforts, and tried adjusting his pants but the friction only made the problem worse.
You nodded, gasping as he filled you, curling his fingers up to hit that sweet spot deep inside. Marc was knelt in front of her, sitting upright, watching his fingers disappear inside you, coming out covered in your blood. “Such a good girl…” He muttered lowly, the mix of blood and slick swirling on his hand. He could feel your walls tightening around him, but he knew you’d need extra help to get over the edge. For now, however, he was taking it slow, giving you time, building you up. He laid down next to you, resting on one arm that played with your hair and stroking your pretty face, while his right hand fucked you. Marc peppered you with open mouth kisses, your tongues dancing together, your mouth chasing him when he pulled away to kiss down your neck, licking up your chin and back to her mouth again. You played with his dark, thick curls, kissing that sensitive spot under his jaw. He took deep breaths, trying to cool himself off. He didn’t want you to feel obligated to touch him, but Christ, he was aching for you. You laid like this for what seemed like forever, touching and kissing so innocently, but his fingers were inside you. When he pulled away, you pouted.
He kissed over your clothes until he got to your pelvis.
“Marc-” You hesitate, embarrassed by the idea of Marc’s mouth on your bloody cunt.
“Don’t even start, pretty girl” Without giving you another chance to be embarrassed, he began sucking on your clit. Marc couldn’t help it, he began moving against the bed to stimulate his cock.
“Oh fuck, that’s good…” You tugged on his hair, pulling him closer. He takes his fingers out, painting part of your thigh as he grips you, his mouth going further down. When you sat up to watch him devouring you, he looked up at you, grinning, lip curling up the way it did only when he was really, truly happy. You knew you shouldn’t be so thrilled to see him covered in blood… but you were.
“Whatcha think’n, Brightside?”
Her heart flutters and you swallow. “Um… that you look really good like that…” You look at him, awestruck as he went back to finger fucking you, but never broke eye contact.
“You like when I’m covered in you, baby?”
You nod.
“Or, do I just remind you of Edward Cullen right now?” He teased.
Your jaw dropped, but a small smile crept up on your lips, even while panting under his touch. “I can explain!”
He gave your messy cunt a kiss, still smiling at you. “It’s okay, baby, I can work past that” He winks, going back to work, before stopping and popping up again, with a mischievous grin. You felt his slicked up fingers slip between you and the towel on the mattress, making you shiver as he grazed over your hole. “Can I have your ass? It’s okay if you don’t want to, but I thought it might help…” Marc gave you a look he hoped communicated that it was completely up to you.
You considered for a moment, but nodded, smiling. “I trust you, baby.”
He kept working your clit as he grinned back, lip curling up again and showing off his adorable teeth, white in the sea of red on his mouth. “Yeah?” He whispered softly, the words magic to him. He promised you safety, and you gifted him you trust. He stopped fighting it, Marc began humping against the bed. The whole scene was so perfect, he couldn’t deny himself anymore. It was messy, it was filthy and it went against what most people might consider normal, but right here, right now? The room was filled with nothing but love, sexuality, trust, caring. How could something like this be dirty? How could this ever be wrong? “You trust me?”
Your hips bucked up, riding the waves of pleasure he gave you. “Inexplicitly, Starlight.”
Marc wanted to kiss you, but that might be a bit of a line she wasn’t prepared for. His mouth went to your clit, left hand began fingering you. Slowly, carefully, he slides a finger up in your ass. “Relax honey.” he coaxes, and you do just that.
You suddenly felt so full, the new sensation sending shivers up your spine. “Fuuuuuck Marc” You threw her head and arched your back.
He smiled as he continued licking and sucking “You like that baby?” Marc rutted into the bed, fuck, he could come just like this. He just might.
All you could do was whimper and nod.
“You like when I touch you like this? You like when I’m in multiple holes?” He fucked his fingers into you, as far as he could reach.
It became apparent that Marc was working himself against the bed, and the idea that he was turned on just from giving her pleasure? That just brought her closer. “Fuck, Marc, mmm fu-ah!, no ones ever touched me like this”
Marc had assumed as much, he knew that before Steven, most of the men essentially used your body to masterbate. But this was for you, to help you. And you really liked it. He knew you were close, but getting there wasn’t the issue. It was the spilling over, the climax. You were writhing, yanking at the sheets that had been pulled off the corner of the bed. The towel beneath her had bunched up, barely doing it’s job anymore but Marc wasn’t going to stop, not when you were so close.
Marc sat up on his knees, trying his best to keep some sort of friction in his pants. He continued working you with his left hand; two fingers in you vagina, his pinky in her ass. You were perfect, enwrapped in pleasure before him. Drawing back his hand, he spat on your pretty little cunt and gave it a slap.
And there it was.
“Marc!” You shout, the last words you said before you became incomprehensible, a babbling mess. You tried to say something, but what? You didn’t know. You felt the tension in her uterus ease as you came down from you high and noticed Marc coming back from the bathroom, kneeling at you side.
“Hey Brightside, how you feeling?” He brushed you hair back from your sweaty face.
“M-much better. Kiss me?” She looked angelic.
How could he refuse? He kissed you, and you realize his face was washed of your blood. You wouldn’t have cared. “I drew you a hot bath, does that sound good?”
You nodded, beaming softly at him “Join me?”
He kissed your forehead “If you’ll have me.” Marc spoke as softly as you thought he ever could.
“Forever and always, baby”
He gently held her throat as he kissed her. “Let me get cleaned up first.”
You frowned at him, confused. That was the point of the bath. He was about to bathe in water that would have your blood and cum- oh. Pushing him back, you look at his pants, there was a wet spot in his dark jeans. When you looked up at him, it was your turn to sport his signature shit-eating grin. “Fuck Marc, that’s hot.”
“Come on, baby” He smiled softly at you as he took her hand and led you to the bathroom, the tub steaming and full of Epsom salt in the boiling water. Just how you liked it. He’d have carried you if his legs didn’t feel so shaky from his orgasm. “Let’s get you properly naked.”
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I hope you liked it! Tagging a few people I know haven't read sunshine/ this chapter (literally no pressure to read it I know it's long as fuck)
@jake-g-lockley @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @in-between-the-cafes @welcometostayingawake @lucianadraven32
#marc spector#marc spector smut#marc spector reader#marc spector fluff#marc spector fanfic#marc spector moon knight#Mar Spector comfort#comfort fic#period fic#i love sick fics#marc spector sick fic#moon knight sick fic#marc spector period fic#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight
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sick
summary: being sick is never much fun, but it’s even worse when your boyfriends are nowhere to be seen.
word count: 1.8k
warnings: throwing up, basically just fluff otherwise
You were sick. You were the energy draining, skull splitting type of sick. You hadn’t slept more than about an hour at one time, and you had basically lived in the bathroom for the past two days. Wonderful.
What made matters worse is that no one had come to check up on you. Not Steven, who fluttered around you, not Marc, who hovered as if he couldn’t last a second without you, not Jake, who knew what was happening even before you did. You knew they had reasons to not be floating around you, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt when they didn’t react to you being gone from your normal spot in the living room.
Right about now, you would be getting off of work, shooting whoever was fronting— today it was normally Marc— a text telling them you’d be home soon. He’d meet you at the front door if he had a minute, but even if he didn’t or forgot, you would still greet each other after you made your way into the bedroom. You’d kick off your shoes and throw down your bag, flopping onto the bed next to Marc. You would sometimes peer over his shoulder at whatever was flashing on his computer screen.
You were thrown harshly back into the present as you felt another wave of nausea coming on, turning and hurling more into the toilet bowl. “Why, universe,” you groaned. “Why.”
Soon– and that’s putting it lightly– you were finally able to bring yourself up into shaky legs, crashing into the blankets with a sigh. You stared down at the recently emptied bucket beside you as you gloated, reasoning with yourself for the past forty-eight hours as to why the boys hadn’t come up. Yeah, you were still on that. It was usually ‘they know and they don’t want to get sick’, but you had run through ‘they hate you and don’t care’ more times than you’d like to admit.
You slapped your hand across the wood of your bedside table until you found your phone. As you turned on the screen, you saw countless texts from none other than the very men that had been occupying your thoughts. As you scrolled through the texts, they mostly consisted of ‘Y/N!’, ‘hey what’s going on’, and a special appearance of ‘I’m sorry but I have a trip for the old bird. be back in a few days’.
Groaning, you flopped your head back down onto your pillow, willing whatever stomach bug you had currently would just go away. You picked up your hand as you dialed their number, Marc picked up after the second ring. “Y/n! Y/n!” He screeched into the phone. “What happened?!? I called you like twenty times and I’ve sent like a thousand texts!” You cringed at the volume of his voice as it spiked a headache. “Marc, not so loud.”
“Are you okay?” Concern lined his voice.
“I’ve definitely been better.”
“Y/n, what’s going on?”
“I got some stupid stomach bug. I haven’t stopped throwing up in two days and I feel like shit. That’s why I haven’t called you back.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“Will you be home soon?” You asked, hopeful.
He paused. “I don’t know?”
“You don’t know? Marc..”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. This is just really important.”
You scoffed, annoyed. “I get it. Good luck with it.”
“Y/n, don’t hang up! I’ll call you often, I promise.”
You nodded resentfully, still slightly pissed in your sick-addled mind. “Fine.”
“I love you.” He murmured.
“Love you too, you idiot.”
As you both hung up, you shot out of bed and back to your new home near the toilet. “Time for round one thousand.” You grumbled.
━━ ✦ ━━
When Marc cruised into your shared flat a day later, he was met with an unreal sight. Normally, the room was in top shape, as you hated any sort of mess. But, the curtains were hastily drawn, quite a few of your outfits were thrown across the floor, the bed was unmade and disturbing sounds came from the bathroom.
You were currently throwing up. Again. No surprise there. Marc was lucky in that he walked as soon as you were done. You threw up your hand haphazardly in greeting, unable to speak at the moment. Marc was still in his suit pants— which is confusing, now that you think about it—, but he bent down nonetheless to carefully pull back your hair into a ponytail.
“I’m so sorry, sweets.” He cooed, leaning in to place a kiss on your head when you jerked away from him. “Don’t kiss me, you’ll get sick too.” You chided with a hoarse voice.
“Not doing better, huh?” He asked as he helped you up from the floor.
“Eh. I woke up and could barely walk-“ you stumbled over your feet. “-as you can see.”
With a smirk more characteristic to Jake, your boyfriend hooked his arms under your knees and carried you to the bed, bridal style. You squealed, choking out a laugh.
“Have you taken any medicine?” He asked. You nodded. “Only the first day I was sick. I couldn’t muster enough energy to get to the kitchen after that.”
“I’m sorry that this is happening, hon. Tell you what. I’ll go grab a few things. Be back in ten.” He shot out of the room at a speed you previously thought was impossible. “I don’t know why I’m surprised at this point…” you mumbled as you sank further into the fluffy layers of comforting cotton.
━━ ✦ ━━
True to his word, Marc arrived exactly ten minutes later. You had counted. Nothing more interesting when you’re laying in bed. “I’m back!” Marc’s voice rang through the floor as he slid in. “Thank god.” You practically groaned as he made his way to you, plopping down on the bed and laying out all the items he’d acquired.
“Marc, go grab a mask.” You commanded, the sudden outburst surging spurring from the last ten minutes you’d spent hoping you wouldn’t get him sick. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to get sick.”
“Y/n-“
“Now.”
“I don’t wanna-”
“Spector,” you growled. “I may be sick, but it will hurt no less when I attack you.” The said man deliberately got up and put on the mask as you smirked in victory.
“There! Are you happy now?”
“Yes. See, that wasn’t that hard.”
“Mhm, keep telling yourself that.” He muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Here,” Marc blatantly ignored your question and handed you aspirin and a glass of water. “Drink this.” You obliged, downing the drink.
Marc placed a bowl of salad with your favorite toppings in front of you. “Lettuce helps clear out your system.” He clarified at your raised eyebrow.
You shrugged and quickly went to eat the food.
“When was the last time you ate?” Marc questioned your ferocity.
“Substantially? Two days ago.” You jutted out between bites.
“Y/n.”
“Yeah?” You looked up at him briefly while you chewed.
“You need to eat!!”
“I was just gonna throw it up!”
“You still need to eat something! Or drink something! Did you drink anything?”
“Of course. I had water.”
Marc let out a sigh, running a hand down his face in frustration. “That’s good, at a minimum.”
You mumbled a sorry and went back to munching. You watched from the bed as Marc fluttered around the room, cleaning. Cleaning. This was definitely not new, but your brain wasn’t processing things properly at the moment. “Marc,” he picked up his head and locked eyes with you. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Just eat.” He ordered, waving you off.
━━ ✦ ━━
“And then I-“ you stopped mid sentence when you felt the all too familiar feeling brewing in your stomach. Marc took one look at your face and picked you up, making a beeline for the toilet. He pulled the strands that had fallen out of his loose ponytail as you hurled into the toilet. Tying your hair again, he rubbed your back comfortingly. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’ll be over soon.”
You felt the last things exit your stomach and you collapsed onto the toilet seat, exhausted. “Y/n?” Marc asked at your posture. “Mhm?” You couldn’t pull yourself up.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just tuckered out.”
“From?”
You glared at Marc. “Throwing up. Constantly. For the past two days. It takes a toll when you haven’t slept very much in that time.”
“Or eaten anything!”
You sighed. “Or eaten anything.”
Marc shot you a half smile, even though you couldn’t see it through the fabric of his mask. You frowned quizzically as you took in the details of his mask, snickering nonetheless. “Of course you have a Khonsu mask.”
Marc chuckled, cheeks slightly flushed. “Yep.”
“Why, though? People barely wear those.”
“Doctor people do!”
“Doctor people?” You raised your eyebrows.
“Oh, fuck off.”
You huffed. “You are so lucky I have no energy to tease you right now.”
He grinned. “That I am.”
━━ ✦ ━━
Before you knew it, you found yourself curled under Marc’s arm, all snuggled up and warm against him. “This is nice.” You hummed into his chest. He cracked a smile. “Yeah?”
“Mhm. We should cuddle more often.”
“Maybe.”
“Marc,” you looked up at him. “Please.”
“I’ll try, y/n.”
You huffed in defeat. “Damn Khonsu.”
“Hey! Be nice when you talk about him!”
You chuckled. “Whatever.”
He swatted you lightly. “Watch it, l/n. I can leave this bed anytime I want.”
“No you can’t, Spector. I’m hella strong when it comes to this.”
“Wanna test it out?”
You smirked. “I guess.”
All of a sudden, Marc jerked away from you as if he had been burned. But, much to his dismay, you hung on like a leech and dangled from his body in the exact position you were laying down in. He gaped. “How..?”
You grinned. “I need warmth when I’m sick and my boyfriend has been gone for two days. It’s pure desperation.”
He pulled himself back into the bed with you attached. “I love you.”
You yawned. “Love you too.”
When you woke the next morning, you felt a ton better. Rolling over in bed, you checked the time. 9:45, it read. “Yes!” You cheered. “Nine hours of sleep!” Then it hit you. Where was Marc? “Marc?” You called out. When you were met with no answer, you tried again. “Steven?”
Still no answer.
“Jake?”
Nothing. Radio silence.
Sliding out of bed, you pondered where they could be. Another mission? Seemed plausible. You were about to accept that with a sigh when you heard noises from the bathroom, ones that didn’t sound all that happy.
Your eyes widened as you flung open the door to the bathroom, and you were met with a sight that etched a frown into your features. “Marc,” you crouched down next to him, rubbing his back as he’d done to you the night before. “I’m so sorry.”
a/n: as you can probably tell, but i wrote this MONTHS ago while i was sick, so i apologize in advance for any typos or issues i missed! also look at his smile in the gif omfg
#i love sick fics#and i love my baby marc im happy to write for him#moon knight#jake lockley#marc spector#steven grant#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#marc spector x reader#steven grant x you#marc spector x you#jake lockley x you#marc spector imagine#steven grant imagine#marc spector fluff#marc spector x y/n#oscar issac#oscar issac hernandez estrada#oscar issac x reader#oscar issac imagine
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Song: Fahrenheit - Azee
With Marc Spector x fem reader
(I think this may fit well with the Outlaw fic 👀)
Lovely anon, thank you for this request! Definitely feels like Outlaw and that tough-guy reader, and I had fun writing that type of reader character again.
I completely failed at writing something drabble-length but my house, my rules to break. The urge to turn this into such a long fic was and is so fucking strong… sorry for how I left this one 😅 I hope you like it 💜
Compromise
This one-shot is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!
Song prompt: Fahrenheit
Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader
Words: 2450
CWs: Some swearing, mentions of violence
There’s a light on in an upstairs window.
A shadow ebbing through the soft warm glow tells Marc that it wasn’t left on by mistake; there’s someone else inside. But another intruder wouldn’t have turned a light on, unless they were dead stupid, so whoever’s inside is allowed to be.
He’ll have to be careful.
It’s a little past two in the morning when Marc sticks a pick into the keyhole of a maintenance entrance and enters the great stone building. As to be expected in this old library, no alarm or security camera pings the signal detector on his watch. He relaxes, still keeping his steps quiet, and hopes that this strange directive from Khonshu would remain simply strange and not complicated.
“Why do you need me to steal an old book?”
“It’s not a book in the way your human mind is limited to understand,” Khonshu explained. Marc didn’t pretend to look interested or unbothered, but some secret place found relief in the lack the command to end another evil life.
“The Ennead Codex contains matters of great importance, and it is in danger of falling into the hands of those who wish to access the underworld.”
Whatever that means, Marc thought. He didn’t question it further. Really, he didn’t care all that much. It was just another task from his master.
Without many more words, Khonshu told Marc where the sacred manuscripts had been hidden for the past several decades. They’d been moved to this seemingly insignificant library in a small town.
Hidden in plain sight.
As Marc lifts a brass handle and slips through a dark walnut door into the main chambers of the library, he doesn’t bother donning the suit. He’d probably slip in and out undetected, harnessing his years of covert ops.
For a small town, the room is towering and impressive and beautiful. Filtered through a expanse of glass in the ceiling, moonlight casts its judgement across the carved stone pillars of the rotunda. Patches of dark blue carpet are dimly aglow with the help of the night sky, until Marc casts his own shadow across them.
He walks past the circular desk that sits in the dead centre of the room, now having clocked the sign for the Reference section where Khonshu said the Codex may be hidden.
The shelves are shrouded in darkness as he approaches and searches for the number “202.” He doesn’t get very far before the hairs on the back of his neck pique his fight or flight.
His right hand meets the gun at his side, pointer finger itching to meet the strength of the trigger, and a small clicking noise on the other side of the room sends him slipping behind a pillar.
He waits, listens, tries to discern where the sound came from. Footsteps. Coming towards the centre of the room.
Towards him.
Marc slows his breathing to keep it quiet. He wonders if the other presence in the library can sense him in the way he could sense them. Sure, years of tactical training hone the senses, but there’s also a distinct human instinct that tells someone when they’re not alone. He swallows hard when he remembers that it’s possible this other presence is not human.
“I know you’re in here,” a voice echoes through the aisles and up to the ceiling. Sounds human enough. She doesn’t sound afraid so she probably has a weapon. Marc tightens his grip on the gun, readying to draw.
“Come on out,” you command, sounding a little impatient.
You don’t declare a weapon. He doesn’t hear the safety of a pistol disengage, or the cocking of a shotgun, so he emerges from the shadows with a hand on his holstered gun.
You look sharp and powerful, standing in the centre of the room. Empty hands hang by your side - no visible weapon - you tilt your head, intrigued when you see the intruder. The light of the early morning moon chisels harshly against your features, projecting something familiar and severe towards the man who’d broken in.
“What are you doing here?” Your voice is accusing. You take a step towards him, head lowering to show him an unwavering, disarming stare. There’s a flicker of hostility and a glint of gold in your eyes that numbs his tongue just long enough to be too long. “English?” You stop walking and set your jaw. You look like a normal person.
“Yeah, English,” Marc finds his words and quickly assesses you, your stance, the outline of your body. There’s no bulkiness to your clothing, there’s no tension that gives away a readiness to strike; you’re no threat to him. There’s time to grab the book and get out before the small-town cops arrived.
“I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. No one needs to get hurt.” He says it as he turns away from you and you immediately call out after him.
“I won’t let you take it.”
He turns back and narrows his eyes in question.
“I know what you’re here for,” your fingers begin to curl into fists, your chest rises with a breath of preparation. “You need to leave. Now.”
Marc’s eyes flick to your growing battle posture, and he begins to summons the suit.
The exhales of the old pages lining the bookshelves glitter dust through the streams of moonlight. The same moonlight from which Khonshu’s vessel draws the power he begins to feel pulsing through his fingertips, through his chest and the back of his head. He lowers the hand from his gun and looks you dead in the eye. Marc sees another glimmer of gold. It was so fast, if he’d been blinking he’d have missed it. He juts his chin in challenge. “Who are you?”
“Leave,” is your only answer. “I won’t tell you again.”
The room fills with a gentle thundering the second your hands close into fists. Books, across every shelf, buzz with a strange power. The light fixtures are barely swinging, there’s no dust falling from the ceilings, but the shelves are alive with a ferocity you held. No more time to waste.
Lunar silver fills Marc’s vision as the sacred suit fixes tightly around him. He can’t leave here without that Codex. He’s fully prepared to fight you for it.
He positions himself into a stance ready to defend and to attack, watching with bated breath as you see his suit take place. The moment the ceremonial garb fits the last swath to Marc’s skin, you raise your fists.
The room falls quiet. The books fall still.
Marc waits, he listens, he watches as you determine he’s a bigger threat than you’d thought. It looks like you’re bleeding energy to hold your fists above your head, like you’re holding great power. Then, he notices the stream of moonlight begin to dilute. A warm, golden light begins emanating from the bookshelves. From the books themselves.
In a move too swift to predict, you draw your arms down towards your chest and fall to one knee.
A thread of light shoots from what looks to be every page in the room, blasting towards you before he has the chance to blink. Marc has to shield his eyes and again duck behind the pillar to protect himself from a glare so bright he was sure it rivalled the sun’s surface. It’s overpowering, debilitating, even through his tightly shut eyes, he throws his face against the crook of his elbow until he can sense the light begin to wane.
He emerges from the pillar fully prepared to attack, but stops in his tracks when he sees you rise to your feet.
You had transformed.
In a way that was all too familiar.
Golden cuffs circle your wrists, upper arms, your collar adorned with twists of gold and ivory. The breastplate of your armour is blanched leather bordered in the bones of an ancient being. A white cloth drapes around your waist, falling halfway down your legs. Your shins are wrapped in the same cloth, down to where your ankles are cuffed in gold above your bare feet.
Marc hold up his hands in surrender when he eyes the long golden staff in your white-knuckled grip. Not because he thought he couldn’t win, but because it looked like something he’d seen before. “I think we’re on the same side here.”
You smirk, scoff through your nose and point the staff at him. “Anyone attempting to steal the Ennead Codex is on no side of ours.”
“I’m not trying to steal it,” Marc drops the hood and lets the cloth peel back from his face. To show you his eyes in an appeal for trust. You didn’t waver. “I was sent to retrieve it.”
A raised eyebrow tells Marc that, to you, it’s the same fucking thing.
He holds his breath and asks, “Who do you serve?”
He watches you examine him. His suit. He watches as you realise you have a lot more in common than you’d care to admit; somehow, somewhere along the way, your lives ended up in the hands of beings too powerful to comprehend.
You don’t lower your staff as you say, with pride and strength in your voice, “I am the Scribe of Seshat. Tasked with protecting the Ennead Codex, and any knowledge those would seek out to use for destruction.” Marc takes a step forward and you don’t like that. With a single nod up, you counter, “Your turn.” Your grip on the hook-ended staff tightens. He doesn’t flinch.
“I am the Fist of Khonshu. Tasked with protecting travellers of the night.” He only stops when he’s a step away from the end of your staff. “Khonshu sent me to retrieve the Codex.”
You pull the sharp hook away, planting the lower end back on the floor beside your feet, and the books thunder for half a second. Again, Marc doesn’t flinch.
After several moments of tense, insular processing, you fix your eyes on a shelf behind your intruder and you begin to look nervous. “Seshat said this day would come.” You then meet his eye with an openness he hadn’t expected. “I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”
“Seshat doesn’t sit on the Ennead Council,” Marc subtly probes, keenly watching the way you’d react.
“No,” you confirm. “Never wants to. The only reason she has an Avatar is to keep them at bay. Seshat wants nothing to do with the Council…” you begin to walk past him, pausing at his side to add, “Especially Khonshu.”
You keep walking so Marc turns his body towards you, and don’t tell him to stay or back off so he follows as you enter the darkened rows.
Your barefooted steps are automatic and confident, carrying you to near the end of a nondescript shelf of reference material. After a moment of pause, reverence, and reflection, you place your hand on the spine of a thick book and chant a few words under your breath. It glows gold for a moment before changing appearance and sliding out into your hand.
Marc watches you caress the edges of the pages and look at the Ennead Codex as if it were something you truly cared for. Truly believed in.
He holds out a hand and promises, “I won’t let anything happen to it.”
Your head snaps towards him and he sees a startling intensity in your eye, along with those flecks of gold. “I know you won’t,” you start, “because the Codex isn’t leaving my sight.” Marc opens his mouth to protest but your protective grip tightens and you set your jaw. “I am the keeper of this Codex. I go where it goes.”
Marc shakes his head once. “Not gonna happen.”
“It’s not up for debate.”
“Don’t make me take it from you.”
A new low rumbling begins all around. Your eyes don’t leave each other as a smirk peaks into the corner of your mouth. “A sliver of waning moonlight versus a roomful of knowledge… do you like your chances against me in my domain, Moon Knight?”
Marc’s stomach lurches, though he gives no outward indication. Moon Knight. He didn’t tell you that name.
Your eyes burn gold, brightening every moment you build the power you’re pulling from the sources around you. Marc bites his tongue and assesses the situation as the library fills with the show of the ancient being you carry the mark of.
Marc arrives at the conclusion that, if you are indeed a vessel for Seshat, fighting you here would be a losing battle. He has no advantage. So, like a good Marine, he knows when to call the retreat. He knows when to compromise, and he does so with a gentle lift of his hands in surrender.
Your eyes return to normal, the books stop readying themselves for battle, and you brush past him with the Codex in your hands. He turns, recovering quickly, and starts after you. “How d’you-”
“Know that name?” You suddenly stop and turn. Marc’s body almost crashes against yours but he stops on a dime and plants one foot behind him, giving you two at least a little bit of personal space. You look him up and down before levelling him with a single look. “How do I, Avatar of the great Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge, the goddess who invented writing and record-keeping… how do I know who you are?”
Your rhetorical question hangs in the air like the smirk lingers on your lips. After a few moments, Marc nods and sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “We’ll go together to Khonshu, then go our separate ways.”
After, in silence, you reminisce on what Seshat had told you about this day that would come, you nod. “Fine. But if you try to take this from me, I’m gone.”
He gestures around and tries to look unimpressed. “Do you need to do a little light show to change outfits or…?”
He drops the suit in a matter of seconds, before showing a forced and sarcastic smile. Without breaking eye contact, your own garb seamlessly transforms back into the simple clothes you’d been wearing when you first walked in. Your height lifts by an inch when the sneakers finally form around your feet, and you don’t waste a second to turn and begin walking back towards the door from which you and Marc both came. “Keep up, Moon Boy.”
Marc huffs a low grunt, takes a deep breath to ground himself, and sets his jaw before following after you.
This was supposed to be a simple in-and-out, not a full-on extraction. He was here for the Codex, and now that you’ll be leaving your power source he’ll have to look after you until gods know when.
U.S. Marine to glorified fuckin’ babysitter…
Khonshu owes him. Big time.
#Marc Spector x reader#marc spector angst#marc spector moon knight#moon knight#moon knight x reader#moon knight one shot#marc spector x you#no y/n#marvel reader insert#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#My mind ran wild with this one#Obsessed with the idea of them discovering the library of Alexandria had never burnt down#But that Seshat had hidden it underground#Like that library from the last airbender#And there’s some big final showdown in there#And the reader is way too powerful#How fucking sick#Maybe I’ll write it someday
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... smth smth steven going up, up, up those stairs of marc's childhood home, uncovering all of those secrets & marc is so stressed out & scared & is having an influx of buried thoughts that he just kinda regresses then & there.
smth smth steven realizes that something is really up with marc when his cries for him get a lot less strong & more soft n broken. so he stops dead in his tracks, turns, & goes “marc...?”
smth smth marc can only manage small whines & blubbers at the bottom of the stairs & when steven gets to his side, all he can do is cry - no, sob - into his chest
#🧸．berry's brain bubbles#moon knight agere#fandom agere#sfw agere#agere concept#can you tell im rewatching moon knight. again. HDKEBDKS#im sick stop judging me /j /silly#ep 5 is perfect for hurt/comfort moon knight agere fics i tell ya! cant get enough of it
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Can’t fight a fever like that
Summary: One shot. Sick/comfort/care fic. Marc has a fever and the system struggles with how to deal with it.
Warning: Fever. And then it's soft.
Word Count: 3499
---
Everything hurt.
Marc could feel his muscles aching all the way from his head down to his big toe. Even his joints felt a dull constant pain as if he needed to pop them just to make them settle right, yet no matter how he squirmed the ache was still there.
Movement was a different pain. His skin felt hot and over sensitized. Any pressure or texture against him felt like fire. He would have stripped and kicked his sheets off if not for the wave of chills that rippled through him at random.
He was hot. He was on fire. And he couldn’t get warm. Shivering and shaking only reminded him how much everything hurt.
If only he could sleep. Just sleep it off. He could close his sore eyelids and give his dry and throbbing eyes a rest from the blaring light. Maybe then his ears would stop feeling like they were stuffed with cotton that somehow amplified every little sound. Tapping from some leaky faucet that was boring a hole into his brain. An idle engine outside that just kept thrumming and thrumming and thrumming down into his very chest and soul.
He squirmed in his sheets, arms sliding over the raspy linen that had once been perfectly fine but now felt like sandpaper.
Sweat beaded his forehead and ran into his burning eyes. He wanted to roll over and shove his head into his pillow but any position beside being on his back was wrong. It was all wrong. He thrashed in his sheets and felt his hair tangle and plaster to his forehead.
He was sick and he was in the middle of a sensory overload with nothing to do but lay there and struggle not to have the ultimate melt down. It would feel good. No one was here to witness it. He was safe in his own home. He could kick the sheets off and thrash around while crying and throwing things. Oh how he wanted to take that stupid clock with the too bright glowing letters and throw it across the room…
But the effort that would take when he could hardly sit up and reach for the ice water he had somehow managed to put next to his bed in a rare and amazing moment of forethought.
He sipped the water through a straw, feeling the cold liquid hit his too hot mouth like a goddess bringing rains to a desert. He nearly did start to cry as he continued to sip. He had to take such small sips. His throat felt swollen and raw, threatening to reject the precious cool liquid. He had to trick it into accepting it by taking the smallest sips, letting it trickle down into his fiery pit of a stomach.
Relief hit him as his internal fire was momentarily quenched. Sliding back down into the bed, he smiled to himself. “Take that you stupid fever.”
Oh, but the fever was coy and just as he felt maybe he could find some comfort, the chills set in again. As if to say “Alright, you want to be cool?”
His whole body seized up as he shivered involuntarily, bringing the pain and hyper sensory back to the front in full force.
Somehow he managed to slip in and out of sleep. It would feel like hours of fitful sleep was on him until he opened his eyes and stared at the clock. It had been half an hour and it was only one A.M.
He curled up into a little ball and gave in. At least the fitful dreams were an escape from his burning flesh and inability to find comfort in any way.
But this time the dreams did not come. The fever had one last game to play as it slithered inside his mind, stretching out his thoughts and warping any sense of reality that he tried to cling to.
The light of the clock is the moon. He reached for it. Come to me, Marc. Let me wrap you in my garments of old. Let me take you from this desert.
He woke to find himself clutching the alarm clock in his outstretched arms. He felt the buttons on top and deliriously pressed the long flat snooze button. No Khonshu. I can’t go out like this. I look terrible.
He shoved the clock away and stared at his hands. An image came to mind. Something he could touch that would feel wonderful, even in this hyper state.
It was golden and glittered with such an amazing pattern. Like scales or chain-mail. Yet it looked smooth and sleek as it hugged something so soft and firm and round.
“Layla…” He held up his hand as if he could summon her by thought alone. The Scarlet Scarab outfit. Every piece of it looked so wonderful. So beautiful on her. It highlighted and complimented her own natural coloration and felt so easy to look out. No bright and taunting colors like some heroes. He could look at her for hours in this… He wanted to study her. To sit down and stare at the cloth at her waist. It looked so soft and light. To touch the stretchy fabric that clung to her thighs.. It looked cool and he wanted to know if it had a touch to it. Was it smooth? Was it lightly bumpy? Would he be able to feel each pattern? Or would he simply feel her soft body give under his fingers as he slid his hands up to the leather belt….
“Why didn’t I touch it?” He groaned and let his hands fall back. “Stupid suit.” He had clung to her and only felt the rough and heavy gloves of the suit. How he wished he could have taken the armor off and just felt her. Then he could know… Know what it felt like… Know what his fingers would feel… Know relief from this hell of rough bed sheets and itchy pajamas.
Marc?
“Layla… Commer a sec. I just wanna… I gotta know…”
Marc.
“Is it smooth? It looks so smooth.”
Marc!
He jolted awake, eyelids fluttering. “Hm. What? What is it?”
“Marc let me take over. You’re miserable.” Steven appeared in his now melted glass of ice water.
Melted like me. “I’m a puddle of condensation.” Marc smiled.
“Marc, give me the body.” Steven’s face frowned at him.
“No. I got this.” Marc attempted to roll over and only managed to slide his legs under the sheets enough to remind himself that he hated everything right now. “Ugh.”
“You do not ‘got this’. You just likened yourself to condensation. Give me the body.” Steven reached.
“No… It’s my fever. You don’t want this…” Marc fought back with surprising strength considering he wasn’t even sure he was seeing straight. Steven didn’t deserve to feel like this. It was miserable. Marc had felt worse. He could handle this. Steven had never even been sick before!
“Give me the body! Marc! Let go!” Steven struggled and felt a brief moment of pain as their headache bloomed from the effort.
“It’s mine. My fever. You can’t handle this. I got it fair and square.” Marc grinned as he lay back in a painful victory. “No fever for you.”
Steven glared. “Alright. Fine. You want to play hard ball?”
Marc looked at the glass with what he hoped was an expression that conveyed his victory. He grimaced and winced. “What’re you gonna do? Drink tea and eat horrible English food to chase it away? You just gonna lay here miserable and sad and going ‘Oh Marc you were right this is terrible. Take the body Marc take it back!’” He made pitiful little English sounds and coughed with the effort.
Steven jutted his jaw out. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that and that you’re delirious with fever.”
Marc chuckled softly, which turned to a pained moan as the headache only worsened when the muscles around his jaw tensed.
“You asked for it.” Steven shrugged. “JAKE!”
“No no wait! It's mine! I’m fine-” Marc fell to the back as relief washed over him. He slipped down in pure bliss as the pain washed away and at last he could rest with only the smallest of guilt lingering. He would apologize to Steven later.
Jake lay there a moment, assessing the body and trying to figure out where Marc had gone wrong. “Ah. Idiota.” He tensed as he rolled out of bed. The stiffness was unreal and he staggered on his feet as he waited for the world to stop spinning.
It was a slow stumble to the kitchen to refill the glass of water. A painful struggle as he forced his painful finger joints to grip the bottle of Tylenol. He took two easily then stumbled back to his bed.
“He didn’t take anything?” Steven sounded utterly disappointed. “He was just going to lay there miserable until it passed?”
Jake lay back with his eyes closed against the pounding headache that reminded him of fists beating him about the temple. “Si. He is always like this. Miserable until the fever breaks. Thinks it is the only way to ride it out.”
“Why?” Steven was appalled as he watched Jake flinch and tense as he lay perfectly still on the bed as if he could somehow force the body into cooperation just as he could force Marc out of the driver’s seat.
“I think he likes it.” Jake shrugged. “The pain. The loss of control. Self punishment perhaps. I have it now. We will recover. You can go back now.” He lifted a hand to wave Steven away, only managing to force it up a little as his fingers limply twitched.
Steven frowned. “And you’re going to just what? Force it into submission? It’s a fever, Jake. You can’t control everything.”
“I’m fine.” He gritted his teeth as the body started to shiver violently and Jake refused to pull up the blanket. “All in the mind. I’m not cold. It wants me to think I am cold. I know this trick. I will pull up the blankets and then be miserable and hot and sweaty.”
Jake smiled to himself. He was not falling for this. He had fought many illnesses before. He could remember the chicken pox. Marc had been insufferable sitting there pitifully itching and crying and making it worse. Jake had shown that illness though. He had sat there perfectly still and stubborn. He had not given into the urge to itch. He was stronger than that.
“Are you seriously going to brute force your way through this?” Steven stared as Jake grimaced and held perfectly still. The tension alone was sure to cause pain once he fully relaxed.
“I will win. I always win. I have to win. No one is there to take care of us.” Jake shuddered and clenched his jaw tighter. “I have to do it. She was never there. There was no soup or kind words or care. I had to do this. I had to save Marc because they would not!”
“Save?” Steven sighed. “Jake, it’s just the flu. This isn’t something you fight. This isn’t some hidden enemy that you have to pull Marc away from. You have to use a different method. You have to rest. You have to let the body just be.”
Jake attempted to sit up as if trying to face Steven. “You think I am not strong enough? You think I haven’t done this many times before?”
Steven jutted his chin out and nodded to himself. “Alright. That’s it. You two are going to get a serious talking to when this is over.”
Jake wasn’t expecting it. Not from Steven. He was so focused on what he assumed was some sort of threat lurking in the corner that he was caught totally off guard when Steven yanked front from him.
Jake made a move to take the body back but was already worn out. He slowly relaxed back as Steven struggled to his feet.
Steven staggered around the apartment. It all felt terrible. Each step was a struggle of pain and balance. But he couldn’t just lay there feeling so uncomfortable. “Comfort…” Steven reasoned. “We need to be comfortable.”
He gathered a few things and tossed them to the bed. “Comfort…” His quickly worn out mind latched on to anything even remotely comforting.
He grabbed the phone from his desk and dialed. “Hey love, sorry to bother you so late…”
–
“Seriously, you’ve never had this before?” Layla set a tray down across Steven’s lap.
“I can’t recall ever being sick.” Steven shrugged, though it was weak and painful. “I mean it makes sense… Why would she care for us when we’re sick when she wouldn’t even care for us when we were healthy?”
He had several pillows fluffed up behind him to help him sit up and a shawl draped across his shoulders to fight off the chills or easily remove when he got too hot.
Layla sighed and gently brushed the sweat from his forehead with a cool washcloth. “Drink.” She pointed to the hot cup of tea before him. “My father used to make this for me when I was sick. Honey, Lemon, and Ginger. Very simple but so soothing.”
Steven blew on the cup as he held it in his hands, feeling the radiating heat soothe his sore finger joints. He took a sip and felt the instant relief on his sore throat.
With each sip, he slowly coaxed out the one that needed this the most.
Jake blinked down at the cup in his hands. He looked up at Layla as she reached up and again wiped his forehead. It was nice… The horrible sweaty feeling he hated so much was wiped away with the cool and gentle touch.
He sipped the tea and found it to be such a wonderful mix of sweet and heat and tangy. Drinking it in, he relaxed back, letting his stiff back sink into the pillows. “Hermosa…”
“See? Not so bad to relax, hm?” She smiled at him and watched him slowly relax his shoulders and neck. Each sip seemed to relax him until he looked so small in the fortress of pillows Steven had built up.
Irritated at first with Steven’s plea for someone to just come and take care of them at this hour of the night, she suddenly understood as she looked at them now.
He looked so fragile there, surrounded by items of attempted comfort. Things Steven had desperately pulled close as he tried to figure out what it was he needed. What would help chase away the fever dreams and painful aches.
Every pillow and blanket was piled around them. He had changed into the softest and loosest pajamas he owned and he had even grabbed a Taweret plush that he had gotten for a laugh, tucking it in at his side to use as an armrest and something to cling to.
“Do you think you can hold down anything?” She had made a few stops at the first open stores she had come across as she trekked to the flat in the dark.
Jake looked up at Layla, considering the question. “Food?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Your body is using up so much energy to fight for you. You need to give it what it needs so it can fight properly.”
Jake considered this and nodded his approval. The body was fighting for him. He didn’t need to do anything but give it what it needed. “Food might be nice…” He shifted back into the pillows and pulled the shawl closer around his shoulders as a light chill washed over him.
“It will take a little time. Do you have a stuffy head at all?” She got up and moved to the kitchen, quietly pulling out some cooking supplies to heat something up.
Jake shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
“Hmm.” She set something on the stove then moved to get something out of her bag. She opened a jar and scooped out something that looked oily.
Jake frowned. “What is that?”
“Relax. You won’t even notice it.” She pushed his loose collar down gently and rubbed the ointment over his chest and collar bone. Her touch was slow and delicate as she moved her hand in small circles, rubbing in the ointment. It soothed his sore muscles and even her radiating heat was hardly noticed as he closed his eyes, letting his mind follow her fingers.
She pressed a little harder as she rubbed his shoulders and the back of his neck, feeling the tight muscles start to give as she worked them over gently.
Jake took a slow breath and felt his sinuses suddenly open as air at last worked past a blockage he hadn’t even known was there. He inhaled deeply and felt the body suddenly seem to release all the tension it had been storing with each shiver.
Layla got up as Jake drifted into a relaxed slumber. His face was relaxed and she marveled at how there was no way to tell who was behind the wheel in this state. Did they all dream together? Did they share this moment or did they each dream their own piece?
She went back to the kitchen to continue to prep the food, checking on him now and then to make sure his dreams stayed soft.
Marc woke some time later, feeling more human than before, but still horribly weak. He helplessly flailed as he struggled to pull at the blankets that had become tangled around him. Was that a plush? He must still be delirious.
“Good morning.” Layla looked up from her spot on the couch, setting aside one of Steven’s books. “How are you feeling?”
Marc groaned and kicked at his blankets. “Layla?” He looked around in confusion. “What’s wrong? Why are you here? What’s that smell?”
Something smelled wonderful and earthy. He was surprised he could smell at all as he inhaled deeply. His stomach growled loudly and he flopped back in the bed again.
Layla got up and moved over to him, fluffing his pillows and helping him to sit up before offering him a drink of water. “You are sick. Someone needed to come care for you. You are lucky I love you, Marc. Did you think I wouldn’t want to care for you?”
Marc sipped the water, using it as an excuse not to answer. “Just a fever.” He shrugged and brushed his hair back. He was surprised to find his face clean.
“Hm. It doesn’t matter Marc. You should let me decide if I’m going to help you or not.” She gave him a look then moved to the kitchen. There was a brief clattering then she returned with a bowl of lentil soup. “My parents used to make this for me when I had a cold.”
He looked down at the bowl to find a smooth yet hearty bowl of soup. He could smell the spices there that made him think of his time in Egypt. Warm and comforting it reminded him of home. Not of the hell that he had grown up in, that was not home. But of his home with Layla. Of her cooking this for him their first winter together as she cheerfully told him to eat up and warm his bones.
Marc took a spoon full and let himself remember her sitting across from him at the table, her face nervous as he tried her soup for the first time. Her smile as he took another bite and sung his praises. He had not had it since… A regret that now he realized could be easily remedied.
Each bite made him feel stronger and more like maybe everything before had been just a dream.
Once finished he sat back and watched her clear the tray back to the kitchen. He smiled as he relaxed back. He could still feel the remains of the fever, but the fight was over. They had won together.
“Thank you… For coming.” Marc looked away.
“Of course. It’s what people do when they love one another. They take care of each other.” She smiled back at him. “And they let people take care of them.”
Marc nodded and closed his eyes as he let his mind wander. “Hey Layla?”
“Hm?” She moved to sit back on the couch with her book.
“Do you still have that outfit from Cairo?”
“Outfit? Which one?” She gave him a puzzled look.
“The suit. The one from Taweret.” Marc pulled the shawl over his shoulders and nestled in, feeling the plush of the hippo goddess at his side.
“Why?” Layla blinked in surprise. “I’m sure if I asked she’d be more than thrilled to lend it to me again…”
“I bet it feels nice…” Marc drifted back to sleep, a grin on his face.
#Moon Knight#Moon Knight fic#Marc Spector#Jake Lockley#Steven Grant#Layla El Faouly#Sick fic#fever#Someone take care of these idiots#Jake you can't fight a fever like that#Guess who wrote this in three hours with a fever!#I might want to touch the suit#it looks so cool#Gonna try to sleep now#I want soup
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"I can't do this anymore" + marclayla
Oooh my brain immediately went post nightmare angstangstangst but I'm gonna go softer for this one lol
"I can't do this anymore," he half jokes, glancing over to the other side of the bed, his whole body itching restlessly. "I mean, what am I supposed to do? Just sit and watch ya try and keep somethin' down all day?"
Layla tiredly tilts her head to give him a look, a piece of sweaty, curly fringe brushing against her pale skin. She smiles weakly, eyes still crinkling in the corners. "I'm sorry, is this whole being laid up in bed thing not for you?"
Her temperature was over a hundred, last time he checked. Even ridden with fever, she still had a vivacious way.
He didn't get many days off. Problem with that was he didn't know what to do with himself when he found himself in one. His focus was eager for an outlet, sporadic and unpredictable when thrown out of his routine.
Waking up to Layla rushing out of bed right before he walked in to hold her hair back in front of the toilet was not apart of his routine.
"You didn't have to stay today, Marc. I can take care of myself, you know," she says softly, noticing his hesitation. He shakes his head.
"Nah, I wanted to stay," he mumbles, readjusting himself against their pillows as she moves closer. He's grateful for the contact even if it is overwhelmingly warm from the fever, at being able to wrap his arm around her sore back as she rested against his side.
He pushes away thoughts of laying in bed as a kid, trying to figure out which medicines to take and how much all on his own. He wasn't even good at taking care of himself, much less another person. "I'm just not...not the best at this." He vaguely gestures to her, then the table with the bottles of red syrup, boxes of tissues, soups and thermometer.
He feels her shift closer, lazily bringing his hand down to her hot lips in a tired kiss. "You're doing just fine, love."
#moon knight#marc spector#layla el faouly#marclayla#moonlayl#bro i refrained from an all out sob fest this time though it was tempting#i never get tired of sick fics#and all that ive read for mk i think have been layla taking care of the boys :(#which is still *muah*#but also like layla deserves some love too ahdjfkf
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DC x Marvel Fic Recs
@jas-per11 @letthedeadghostrest
Hello! I saw your post, and I've been meaning to rec some DC x Marvel fics anyways, so I'll do that here. I don't know what you've read, so I'll start with
Peter Parker / DC Series:
The Dark Matter Multiverse Series by @mysterycyclone
Dark Matter is the blueprint for most Peter Parker / DC fics, and it's also fucking fantastic. If you're reading a crossover and don't understand why, without explanation, Peter is talking to ghosts? Why he by default ends up living in a firehouse? Read Dark Matter.
Spider and Bat Friends Series by @emmacortana
So far, 12 well written and hilarious works from my all-time favorite author, Miss emmacortana. This, coming from someone with over 1,500 bookmarks. She's that good.
Bitsy and The Bats Series Series by @wibbwoby
Haven't read this one in a while, so I don't have much to say, but Rated T for Traumatized is an absolute classic.
Pizzaverse Series by Irisen
A heavier read, wherein Peter tries to keep his job, make rent, and has a lot of unfortunate run-ins with Gotham's rogues.
Peter & The BatBoys (Doctor AU) Series by @thepoppypress
Peter is the Wayne family's doctor. He has a... chaotic time. I've only read Part 1, but I am still including this here because it's a series.
Peter Parker needs a hug (From the BatFamily) Series by @true-blue-fool
Shorter fics about Peter bonding with the Batfamily. Part 3 is especially cute.
Spider and Bats Series by @superklutzkent
Peter Parker whump, featuring the Batfam. All of the whump.
Let's take a break and look at some DC x Marvel fics that DON'T feature Peter:
Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place Series by RavenclawAngel
After Civil War, Steve gets exiled to DCs earth and builds a new team.
from the nucleus flight Series by @blackkatmagic
Khonshu whisks (Comic) Moon Knight away to DC. Very well written and passionate. If it's not your thing, don't let the Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector tag dissuade you from reading; since it's unfinished, the ship hasn't happened yet, and it's too good of a fic to miss out on.
The Devil's in Gotham (Remastered) by @prince-link13
Matt Murdock moves to Gotham and befriends Jason Todd, his neighbor. Bruce Wayne/Matt Murdock
Marvel/DC Crossovers Series by @bamboozled-and-alone
What it says on the tin. My favorite, part 2, is Matt Murdock taking care of Damian Wayne.
Echolocation Series by Firecat23
Matt Murdock and the bats; though, part 6 does have Team Red, meaning Peter.
Back to our regularly scheduled programming:
Peter Parker slash fics:
Cassandra Cain/Peter Parker
Along Came a Spider Series by @rags-n-bones
Quiet Respite by @faeriekit
I'm not too far in this one yet, but it's Faeriekit, so it's bound to be good.
Peter Parker/Tim Drake, affectionately called redspider
a shining spider web by Selador
Needling by LaughingFreak
How dimension travel can lead to love. Series by Psychic_Queen05
My current Favorite Ongoing Peter Parker / DC Crossovers:
The Ones Burnt by This_is_lovin
After the events of No Way Home, Dr. Strange's magic sends Peter to Gotham. He wakes up in another boy's body, and has to deal with the consequences. Part one just ended with a bang, you all should be there for part two, it's gonna be awesome.
Arachnomaly by @songue85
The (Comic) Amazing Spider-Man, being neighborly in Gotham. Plus some sick art from the author.
time flies by (bye) by WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN
Two difficult years after No Way Home, Peter ends up in Gotham, but with a whole lot of introspection. One chapter left; you better be there.
All of the rest, that didn't fit in the prior categories:
Unforeseen Consequences by @mysterycyclone
Gotta Get to Rock Bottom! by @emmacortana
Read the initial notes first.
Set Naked on Your Kingdom by sassydandelion
Peter's Gotham Debut by BlankGeode, Leeavy
This Was Home by @emmacortana
The Peter Parker Theory by nicfics
and even though we are strange and exquisitely scarred by Wingfeather6913
What happens in New York by @violent138
A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back) by Vivia_wants_boba
Ignorance is Death by No_idea_what_Im_doing_lmaooo
One Dead Spider by Miellonek
If you do check out any of these fics, always leave a comment. Authors love those, it’s like catnip to them.
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Sabotage
Trickster!Sanemi x Fem!Tricked Princess!Reader
Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, dubcon(?), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (f! receiving), oral sex (m! and f! receiving), fingering, handjob, Sanemi can clone himself, double penetration (therefore anal), HEAVY degradation, brat tamer!Sanemi x bratty!reader, Sanemi has an olfactophilia kink, masturbation (Sanemi), spanking as punishment, overstimulation as punishment, lots of dumbification, mentions of breeding/pregnancy, multiple creamp!es, Sanemi is mean in this, Sanemi points a knife to reader’s throat at some point (he doesn’t draw blood), mentions of food, mentions of dead animals, reader is a spoiled, bratty princess, brief mentions of homewrecking (not acted upon), mentions of a future arranged marriage, Sanemi plays “tricks” on reader, lmk if I missed anything!!
Word Count: ~15k
A/N: apologies for this taking literally forever for me to post, I went through a period of burnout and have been in classes these past two months. Also, apologies for this being so long, the plot got ahead of me and it ended up becoming my largest fic to date, but I do promise smut at the end (as you can probably tell by the content warnings lmao). Also please be nice I’m sorry if this fic is actually awful lol :')
Divider Credit: @/cafekitsune
The sound of crystal heels against marbled stone were followed by head turns of maids and servants as you walked through the long corridor, bowing or curtseying as you passed, soft murmurs of your highness and my princess uttered in haste before returning to their duties.
Everything was as it should be: polished gold-framed paintings and chandeliers lit with gentle flames above, ornate silver door handles grasped by armored knights as entrances opened for you time and time again, strolling up rounded stairways and into the throne room – where your father, King Ubayashiki, and his wife, Lady Amane, sat.
The sun was orange through the glass panes that decorated the palace walls. Rainbows scattered across the palace floor, and fractals of light beamed at varying angles which made the golden thrones glimmer with radiance.
“My dear child,” your father smiled gently upon you, “I am glad to see you in good health.”
He was flanked by a line of his advisors on his left side, most of them old and feeble, except for one: a quiet ravenette with eyes which beheld endless pools of deep blue – Tomioka, you believed his name was.
Tomioka was quite handsome, yet always expressed disinterest in the matters discussed at these sorts of meetings – today, he decided to forgo usual etiquette by holding his head up by one of his fists, eyes taking in the grandeur of the throne room rather than being focused on you – as the rest of the advisors were.
“Father,” you curtseyed – forcing your eyes to pry away from the young advisor, “I reciprocate your sentiment. I am glad to see you well.”
He chuckled, “Your words are much appreciated, but I’m afraid they are not true. I have come down with sickness, and our lovely doctor here–” he waved towards his left, referring to a rather beautiful woman with dark hair and violet eyes who sat further away from the line of advisors, “–Lady Kocho, is doing her absolute best to treat me, but, it has made me realize a few things, namely how very brief our lives are on this earth, and–”
“Father, with all due respect, what have you summoned me for?” you asked, impatience seeping into your tone.
The king sighed, “I need you to be married, my dear child.”
“What?” you exclaimed, “no– I don’t want to. You cannot and will not force me to do such a thing.”
Your father sighed, “that is why, my dear, that we are going to be holding a masquerade ball on the next full moon – which, I believe, is five days from now. We have also decided that, due to time and the uncertainty of my sickness, you will be wed on the very next day.”
“What the hell is a ball going to do? Do you believe I’ll just suddenly meet the love of my life while dancing with a masked stranger?”
“That is not the objective, my dear, I wish for you to get to know the princes from nearby nations, and I believe a masquerade ball is perfect to learn personalities without any bias. Whomever you get along with most, as well as whoever I believe will be most fit as a king, will be the one whom you marry.”
“Well, I wish you luck in making me attend, because I refuse to entertain this idea you’ve thought up. You haven’t even given me a reason as to why I should plan to be married.”
There was tension amongst the members of the advisory council, with even Tomioka paying closer attention to your rather loud grievances.
You could almost feel his azure eyes boring into your soul.
“My dear child, even though I am your father, you must remember that I am also your King, and you will do well to remember that,” he said quietly.
“So, what? Are you going to have me thrown into the dungeons if I don’t comply?” You crossed your arms as you glared down at him. “You can’t possibly be serious–”
“That is not what I wish for, my child, but you must be responsible to your kingdom and do what I ask of you. One day, I will no longer be here, and you will need to step up and take the throne once that happens. This is the first step towards that end.”
“I don’t care about being responsible to the kingdom! They must bow to me anyway, the reason for their subservience is none of my concern.”
If you weren’t consumed by your fit of rage, you might have noticed that to your right, for a fraction of a second, the hue of the handsome ravenette’s eyes turned from a deep blue to a stormy purple.
“My child, you must learn that people do not bow blindly to the throne. They bow out of respect for a leader that makes decisions which keep them in mind.”
“They should respect me regardless. I’m their princess. That should be enough for them.”
You did not wait for your father to continue his lecture, as you stormed out of the throne room and marched back toward your chambers.
—
Upon entering your bedroom, a fireplace had already been lit – its crackling flames providing just enough heat for one’s slumber during a mid-winter night.
You sat down on the edge of your rather large bed – a mattress as soft as clouds, and sheets of the finest silk which was woven with royalty in mind. You kicked off your heels, scattering them halfway across your cozy living space – not caring to put them away properly – the help was there for such chores, anyway.
Your lady-in-waiting – you believed her name was Kanroji – knocked upon the carefully carved wooden doors of your chambers, before entering upon your command. She gave you a soft smile and curtseyed before you.
“It’s a wonderful evening, my princess, I hope today treated you well,” she greeted, and you gave out a loud sigh before flopping onto the mattress, a pout visible on your face as Kanroji picked up your discarded heels from the floor and placed them in their proper spot.
“Kanroji–” you elongated the last vowel of her name, “today was awful. Can you believe my dad possessed the gall to summon me today? And for what– to discuss marriage?” you groaned, “If I could, I would’ve wiped that everlasting smile off of his face for making me go through all of this!”
“My princess, that is no way to speak about your father, much less your king,” Kanroji lightly scolded you, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m sure his reasons are sound. I understand if you find the idea rather, well, uprooting I should say, but–”
“–But nothing!” you exclaimed, exasperation evident in your tone. “I don’t want to be responsible for the people, especially if it’s at the expense of my own losses!”
“Princess, with all due respect, they are your people,” Kanroji reminded you, “being a princess doesn’t exempt you from responsibilities.”
Rolling your eyes once more, you grumbled out a “whatever,” and sat up on your bed to face your lady-in-waiting.
“I’m sure that it was at least nice to speak with your father, no? Considering how busy he is and all?” Kanroji asked with a smile.
“Not really,” you groaned, “but I did get to see that one cute advisor he has, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”
“Are you referring to Lord Tomioka, my princess?”
“Who else? The rest of them are old as shit– you think I’d fall for Urokodaki? Or – god forbid – Kuwajima?”
“A princess must not use such foul language, your highness,” Kanroji chided, “although I must say that I never expected you to fall for those…older men.”
You sighed in annoyance, “technically, I can do whatever I want, Lady Kanroji.”
“Unfortunately, Lord Tomioka is already married to the royal doctor, Lady Kocho,” Kanroji ignored the tone of your voice, “perhaps it would be wise to listen to King Ubayashiki’s words and look for a potential suitor at the next royal ball?”
“I doubt he has that much love for her,” you muttered, “perhaps I could pull Lord Tomioka aside during the festivities and–”
“Your highness, with all due respect, you will do no such thing,” Kanroji admonished you.
“But I’m the princess, Lady Kanroji, surely he’d see that as an opportunity for upward mobility, no?”
Kanroji sighed, deciding not to push the topic further. She motioned for you to stand up so she could undress you. You turned your back to her as she started untying the strands of your outer bodice, before removing it and working on the following layers to place them into a soiled linen basket.
“My princess will wash her face before heading to bed, we don’t want any bad air to ruin your perfect skin,” Kanroji urged as she helped you into your night slip.
“You don’t need to treat me like I’m five, Lady Kanroji. I know how to take care of myself.”
Kanroji schooled her expression from that of a tight-lipped smile to one with gentle radiance.
“Of course, your highness.”
You headed to your bathroom, but, rather than washing your face by yourself, you merely sat down on a cushioned chair beside the door. Kanroji followed, obtaining a washcloth made of the softest cotton and dipping it in water which she had warmed prior to your arrival. She dabbed at your face, removing any excess dirt or sweat which built up throughout the day, before lathering some soap into the cloth and gently applying it to your face, before rinsing it away with more water.
After she patted your face dry with another towel, she handed you your toothbrush and paste, and, after you had finished, provided you with water and a spit cup so you could rinse out your mouth.
“My princess seems to be all ready for bed now, let’s get you cozied up for the night.”
She led you back to your bedroom, and you buried yourself in warm blankets, choosing not to respond as she blew out one final candle and bid you a good night.
—
The following day, upon your wake, the birds outside of your window were surprisingly quiet. You’d quite often awake to the chirps of songbirds and hoots of mourning doves, which would rise you out of your restful sleep.
You stood up from your bed, and walked over to your wardrobe, excited to see if the maids had fully cycled your favorite dress through the laundry – one which had been inspired by your own confidence, merely amplifying everything desirable about your figure. It exemplified your wealth, your status; it brought you up into the clouds of materialism as others looked up at you in pure awe.
However, upon opening your wardrobe, you were shocked to find yourself looking at the wooden backing of the closet rather than your endless amounts of clothing that usually hung from the racks – something that you had not laid eyes upon ever since you first received the piece of furniture.
“Kanroji!” you yelled for your assistant, who, despite being summoned, still had the courtesy to knock upon your door before entering.
“Is something wrong, my princess?” she asked delicately as always, yet her honeyed lips did nothing to calm you down.
“You did this, didn’t you?” you accused her as you waved your hands haphazardly towards the empty wardrobe, “why do I not have any clothing to wear?”
Kanroji looked at you in pure confusion, before walking over and gazing upon what you were talking about. She sighed, “I didn’t do this, your highness, perhaps one of the maids went to wash all of your clothing and forgot to return it?”
“Why would they think to wash clothing which hasn’t been worn!?” you argued, “what should I do, then, if I don’t have anything to wear?”
Kanroji pondered for a moment, before seemingly coming to a solution.
“Well, my princess, if you would be so kind to take into consideration this idea I have, I may have a solution–”
“Just spit it out!”
Kanroji sighed, trying not to be taken aback by your rude behavior, “I believe we have extra clothing which is usually reserved for the royal staff. I could go fetch one for you if–”
“So I am to wear a servant’s clothes? To dress myself as a peasant?”
“No, my princess, the royal staff uniforms are hardly clothing meant for a commoner, they are still made of fine quality fabric and are sewn by the best seamstresses in the kingdom.”
You rolled your eyes, “fine, but only because there’s no other choice. Bring me the peasants’ clothing.”
Kanroji turned on her heel and left your room to fetch the uniform, leaving you to walk around your room in silence. After pacing around for a few minutes, you went up to your window, where a songbird had made its nest and laid its eggs.
You had asked time and time again for the staff to remove the nest, as it was partially obstructing the view of your garden, yet they hadn’t gotten around to it, it seemed.
However, today, the nest was completely empty – not a bird nor egg in sight.
“Princess, I’ve gathered a uniform set in your size,” Kanroji said behind you, prompting you to turn your head.
“Give it here.”
She handed you the folded clothing, and you held it out in front of you, inspecting it with expressive disgust.
“How am I supposed to put this on? It’s too frilly and complicated.”
“Allow me, your highness,” Kanroji muttered, before taking the uniform and having you step into it, buttoning it up and smoothing out the skirt.
“You look beautiful as always, my princess,” she smiled at you.
“I’d hardly say that,” you grumbled, “take me to my gardens, won’t you? I need some fresh air after this whole–” you waved your hands trying to find the right word, “–mess.”
Kanroji nodded, “of course, your highness.”
She led you through the winding corridors of the castle, and, as much as you preferred being the one leading, today you were almost hiding yourself behind your assistant – not wishing for anyone to look down upon you for the clothing you wore.
Yet, after a while, you realized that no one spared a second glance toward you. Not a single maid, nor servant, bothered to bow or greet you as you walked by. Easily offended by their lack of etiquette, you caught up with your lady-in-waiting, Kanroji, and whispered harshly into her ear.
“Why are they not greeting me? Usually they bow upon seeing or hearing me walk by. I have never seen such insubordination in my entire life–”
“My princess, it may be due to your clothing. You are wearing quite an unusual outfit for a royal today, and they are quite busy with setting up the decorations and such for the ball. I plead with you to be patient with them, your highness.”
You huffed, but remained silent after hearing her reasoning, your shoulders hunched in annoyance as Kanroji led you outside.
Your garden was one of the more peaceful areas of the palace. It was strategically placed so that you could view it from your bedroom window, a hectare of greenery reserved just for yourself. It caught the rays of sun through the early morning to late evening, with a rather beautiful fountain built in the very center of it made of marble, sculpted with three tiers that had water flow down into a rounded reservoir. The reservoir itself had sculptures sitting on the edges of the fountain – with one of the notable figures being that of Icarus.
Along the border of the garden, white and purple hydrangeas bloomed in the late morning sun, which gave way to various other floral species. It was all proper and organized, each plant having a designated area for it to flourish in. Walking further into the garden, you held out your hand to trace your fingers along the petals of buttercups, a flower which had always been one of your favorites – its delicate appearance attracting you to it.
You approached a small gazebo that found its place on the edge of the garden, a shaded area for you to use should you grow tired. Taking a seat, you exhaled slowly, recollecting yourself from the earlier mishap that was out of your control, almost entering a sort of meditative state. Your thoughts, however, wandered, and eventually led you to your fathers words of having you become married.
“Lady Kanroji?” you asked, and she smiled kindly at you – just as she always did. It was a rather comforting sight, to have someone so close that didn’t seem bothered by anything in the entire world.
“Yes, my princess?”
“Do you ever feel like…your life is out of your hands? Like you’re starting to lose control?” you asked, voice slightly uneasy as you turned your head away from her, deciding to rather admire flowers which neighbored the bench you sat on.
A bumblebee flew past you, its fat little body buzzing between flowers, working hard to pollinate each one.
“Well, yes, everyone does– but, what is making you feel this way, your highness?”
“I mean, look at this bee here– it probably thinks about nothing but how it needs to pollinate flowers and collect nectar for its hive – wherever that may be, right?”
“Of course, princess,”
The bee landed on a lone calendula, burying itself in pollen, before taking a quick moment to rest before flying off to another part of the garden.
“I wish my life was more like this bee. I wouldn’t have to worry about anything except the task in front of me.”
“Princess, is this about the clothes in your wardrobe being missing this morning?” Kanroji inquired.
You shook your head, “no, I’ve accepted that as a small mishap. I’m more worried about how my freedom might be taken away from me, with being married soon and all, especially to someone that I—”
“—that you know nothing about?” Kanroji finished for you.
You nodded, before eyeing a blooming foxglove plant, approaching it and plucking a single flower from its stem, twirling it in your hand as you admired its range of colors.
“I just wish that, at least, my last few days of freedom before this ball will be alright.”
Kanroji tentatively, ever so diligently following your every step, took your hand in hers, “I am wishing only the best for you, my princess. I promise that your husband will be as kind and as loving as can be.”
You smiled at her, still holding the foxglove in your hands, “thank you, Lady Kanroji.”
“–and if he’s not, then I promise to make his life a living hell,” she grinned, causing a hearty laugh to emerge from your chest.
“That hopefully won’t be necessary, but I thank you nonetheless.”
You looked down towards the ground, noticing that an invasive species of yellow tansy has taken root in the soil all throughout the garden.
Groaning, you looked up towards Kanroji once more, “do we not have a gardener to get rid of these weeds?” you asked exasperatedly, and she chuckled.
“Your highness, with all due respect, didn’t you fire them last week because they pruned your rose bush in a way that wasn’t to your liking?”
Sighing, you responded, “you’re right, we’ll need a new one soon, perhaps one of the servants would care for a promotion?”
“We’ll see about that, my princess. As for now, though, how about we get you washed up from being outside, and then after I’m sure we can have the royal chef make you one of your favorite meals for dinner later? As a little treat for all the anguish from today, perhaps?”
You smiled, “that sounds wonderful.”
—
You sat in the great hall of the castle, sampling hors d'oeuvres and sipping on champagne, chatting idly with your assistant at your own private table, watching waiters and waitresses move about through all the different tables, serving appetizers and samples of foods to both guests and royals alike.
Music played in the background from an entourage of pianists and violinists, who were playing some piece from Beethoven that you couldn’t recall the name of.
Feeling refreshed, you called over the waiter for yet another glass of champagne, motioning him to fill up Kanroji’s glass as well.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly–” Kanroji protested, to which you waved your hand in front of her.
“C’mon,” you grinned, “you work so hard. Just one glass? Please?”
She huffed in feigned annoyance, but relented as she let the waiter fill up her glass with the bubbly drink.
“You seem much happier now that the maids found one of your spare dresses in the dried laundry, don’t you?” Kanroji grinned.
You nodded, “I feel more beautiful this way. I really disliked that maid uniform. I felt so…inferior.”
“Clothing does not make a princess, you know,” she reminded you simply as you took another bite of food, and Kanroji grimaced as you opened your filled mouth to talk.
“I know. ‘M a princess regardless o’ wha’ ‘m wearin’,” you mumbled before swallowing, “you don’t need to remind me.”
Kanroji sighed as you so easily missed the point she was trying to make, watching as you waved for the waiter to come by, ready to order your meal.
“What should I have prepared for you this flashy evening, your highness?” he asked.
The man before you was tall and muscular, with white hair that fell down his shoulders and crimson eyes that reminded you of rubies. He took out a notepad to write down your orders when you realized his left hand proudly displayed three golden bands which were embedded with diamonds, each one on a separate finger.
You could hardly believe he was just a mere waiter for the castle.
With his looks, you believed he could be doing much better.
“Would it be so bad if I said ‘you’?” you smiled lazily at him, causing him to chuckle at your statement.
“Unfortunately, my princess, I am a happily married man,” he said, pointing to the three rings, “although I wouldn’t be opposed to adding a fourth wife to the family.”
Your nose crinkled in disgust – not because he had multiple wives, no – but because you disliked the idea of having to share him with others.
What belonged to the princess should belong to her alone.
“I’ll pass,” you forced out, “I would, however, like to request the foie gras for my meal tonight, if you could you put that in for me — and, perhaps, a side of toasted baguette with caviar spread will do.”
“Ah, my princess, as much as we are happy to make anything you desire, I must regretfully inform you that we do not have any foie gras for tonight.”
Your blood pressure started to rise. Putting on a fake smile, which was more akin to that of a grimace, you asked, “and what may be the reason for the kitchen being unprepared to take my order?”
“Your highness, I promise that it is not the kitchen’s fault. A strange occurrence, and a most un-flashy one, really – our local farmers have reported that every single one of their animals have escaped, and what’s more- they can’t be found anywhere within the borders of the kingdom.”
You thought back to the morning, when you made note of the usual songbirds outside of your window being absent.
“Do you not have any duck meat preserved?” you asked.
“No, your highness. We hunt the very same day that we prepare the meals so that they’re fresh. Which is why–”
“Which is why you’re supposedly unable to adhere to my request. I heard you the first time. No need to repeat yourself,” you huffed. “If you don’t have any meat, then what do you have?”
Just as the waiter was about to open his mouth, you held up your hand to stop him, “Never mind. Just get me a salad. Now leave us,” you glared at him, disdain heavy in your tone.
“Of course, princess.”
You rolled your eyes as he sauntered away, and Kanroji stared at you with a slight frown on her face.
“What is it?” you asked, taking her hand and holding it.
Kanroji tensed, but allowed her hand to stay rested on yours.
“It’s nothing, I promise,” she started, “I hope that you can be more patient with them, though, they are doing their best to serve you.”
You sighed, “whatever.”
You looked down at her hand, at which point a frown crossed your face.
“Lady Kanroji, since when did you have such an awful scar?”
Looking back up at her, she seemed slightly alarmed, taking her hand away from yours.
“What are you talking about, princess?” She looked down at her own hand, inspecting it as though she didn’t realize she had such a blemish.
“That scar– I don’t know why I only just noticed it, but–” you paused as she showed you her hand once more.
Her hand was flawless.
“You may have had too much to drink, princess, should I escort you back to your room?”
You looked at your assistant in utter confusion, “but–”
“I highly doubt it was anything more than a trick of the light,” she smiled reassuringly. “Let’s get you to your chambers now, alright princess?”
—
You awoke to the pounding of fists against your door, jolting up from your bed.
“Princess! Please open the door!” one of the royal guards shouted from outside your chambers.
Groggily, you walked up and opened it, to find the guard in what seemed to be a slightly confused panic.
“What’s going on?”
“You’ll have to come down to the royal gardens with me, princess, there’s something that was…er– left for you.”
In a huff, you followed his instructions, the guard following closely behind you, winding through corridors and staircases until you reached the outside, where a small crowd consisting mostly of royal staff could be seen huddling around something, exchanging whispers and gasps that were unintelligible.
“What in the hell did you raise me out of my bed for that needed my immediate attention?” you yelled back at the guard, who was only a few paces behind you, “forcing me to go outside while looking this indecent better have a good explanation.”
You pushed your way through the crowd, only to stop short as you gazed at what was before you: a dead cow, one that seemed to be entirely gutted, with its entrails scattered about around its body.
The same guard walked up to you, tapping you on the shoulder before handing you a scroll, “this was laid beside the mauled animal,” he explained.
You unraveled it, only to read something that made you feel rather faint.
Here’s that meat you missed so dearly last night, princess.
You could almost laugh, if it weren’t for how absolutely no one could’ve heard about this conversation besides Lady Kanroji and the waiter himself.
Perhaps he notified the chef and one of the kitchen staff got upset? But that wouldn’t explain how they got the cow in the first place if all the animals are all–
“Princess?”
You looked up at the guard, who’s purple eyes seemed to be glimmering in the light of the morning sun.
“What is it?”
The guard frowned – at what, you couldn’t possibly tell – before he shook his head and walked back toward the castle.
Just as you were about to question him, Lady Kanroji came running out from the palace doors and stopped before you.
“Oh, my princess! I’m so glad you’re alright!” she wailed, seemingly disturbed by the events of this morning.
“I’m fine, but I’ll need each and every one of the kitchen staff that was working last night to be interrogated.”
Kanroji seemed confused, but nodded, deciding not to question your reasoning.
“In the meantime, your highness, would you like to visit your garden again? I know that it tends to calm you down quite a bit and right now you seem quite…frazzled.”
—
“Lady Kanroji, how quickly do flowers usually grow?”
“Your highness, at this point, I have no idea.”
She looked just as confused as you were – gazing upon your garden, which looked entirely different from what it looked like yesterday. Rather than hydrangeas and the occasional foxglove bush blooming, the entire garden had been infested with snapdragons.
“I was here just yesterday, was I not?” you asked rhetorically, and Kanroji nodded in affirmation.
“Yes, you were, my princess.”
You sighed, “I don’t understand – all I wanted was a few peaceful days before I am forced into an arranged marriage. Am I not allowed something as simple as that?”
“Many are not afforded things that may seem simple to others, my princess, perhaps this is how the universe so ordained these few days to unfold.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better about my circumstances, though.”
“Perhaps not, but we can always do our best to make the most of what we are dealt, even if the hand we are given is not the best.”
You listened to her as you looked around the garden, seeing how endless the lines of snapdragon flowers seemed to be, and, in a moment of firm resolve, you lifted up the bottom of your slip before setting your feet bare into the soil.
“What are you doing, your highness? You will dirty your clothing if you–”
“I’m making the most of the hand I’ve been dealt, Lady Kanroji,” you explained, before beginning to weed out the unwanted snapdragon flowers from their roots.
Kanroji smiled, before following suit and helping you in your task, ridding the garden of unwanted plants to restore it to its former glory.
—
It felt like hours since you first arrived to your garden, your night slip entirely dirtied, and your hands caked with soil. The sun beat down on both of you, causing sweat to drip down your face as you smeared it away with your dirtied hands.
A crow flew down and landed in the garden next to you, poking its beak at the bundle of snapdragons that you’d picked out of the soil, you waved at it in order to shoo it away – but to no avail.
“I thought that there were no fauna left in the kingdom,” you mused, and Kanroji giggled softly.
“Apparently this little one didn’t quite catch the memo,” she smiled, causing you to chuckle.
However, another crow flew down a few minutes later, and then another – until there was nearly a flock of crows that surrounded each of you.
“Lady Kanroji–?” you asked, concern lacing your tone as you looked around, with what seemed to be every single crow staring directly at you, as though you were nothing but prey to them.
It started off with one crow – which flew toward you and started picking at your night slip with its beak. You tried shooing it off, but doing so only invited another crow, and another, and another to do the same.
“Stop! What– stop!” you screamed as the crows continued tearing at your slip, leaving holes and cuts all throughout the thin cloth. You knelt to the ground, curling yourself into a tight ball as the crows hovered closely above you.
Until finally, the torment ceased.
Standing up, you looked around to see them flying away, before looking back at your assistant who seemed absolutely horrified by what just occurred.
“Your highness–”
“Don’t. Say. A word,” you seethed, tears starting to brim your eyes before you rushed back to your chambers, Kanroji following closely behind you.
—
Sanemi’s POV
A yell of frustration could be heard from your chambers, causing a silent snicker to pass through his lips.
He couldn’t help that he loved messing with you: you were the perfect prey for someone like him. Someone in a place of authority who needed to be knocked down a few pegs; a bratty princess who wanted everything to go her way – regardless of if it hurt those around her or not.
Not only that, but the noises you made were music to his ears – how you’d groan and grumble and scream – all because of him.
He was the one who was causing you all this grief.
And he loved it.
Unfortunately, it seemed that missing clothes and cooking ingredients were just not enough to make you absolutely lose your sense of control.
“Kanroji!” you yelled from your chambers, causing his ears to perk up. You always had your poor assistant help you out, he realized, it was only ever a matter of time before her name could be heard from your lips.
It pissed him off, really, that assistant of yours – she would always be there to step in and help you, no matter how terrible your behavior was.
However, it seemed today that your assistant was nowhere to be found, and so he had the privilege of reveling in your annoyed grumbles for that much longer.
After what seemed to be about half of an hour, your chamber doors finally opened.
He decided that your expression must’ve been priceless, so he took the shape of a female guard and walked down towards your chamber doors.
However, he couldn’t stop his mouth from falling agape upon seeing you.
Your dress – which he intentionally shrunk down a size, caused your tits to spill out from the top of it. Not only that, but your skirt only went down to your mid-thigh, and he could only imagine what a sight it would be if you bent over to pick something up.
He was frozen – he hated you, hated authority. He despised how you thought that you were simply better than everyone else – that it was somehow your birthright to be above everyone else.
So, why was he awestruck by the sudden beauty that was before him?
You turned your head to him – or, the female guard that he was disguised as – and gave him a nasty glare.
“The hell are you looking at?” you asked.
If there were a higher power, Sanemi would’ve thanked them a hundred times over for the fact that his shapeshifting ability could hide the hardening bulge in his pants.
After a moment, he managed to find his voice – and thankfully he remembered to make it fit the character he was playing as.
“Apologies, princess, did you need help with anything?”
You rolled your eyes and scoffed before marching away from him, and he couldn’t help but smirk as your figure turned down another long corridor.
Out of all the people he’s fucked with, you were definitely his favorite.
—
“Shit, princess, got me so fuckin’ worked up over nothing, didn’t ya?” Sanemi muttered under his breath as he fisted his stiff cock, not even bothering to start slowly as he fucked his hand with each unrelenting stroke.
The precum seeped out from his tip, allowing his hand to glide even faster along his thick length; he was harsh with it, the muscles in his forearm nearly burning at the pace of his movements.
Sanemi snuck into your room after you left – having now memorized your daily schedule, he didn’t need to worry about you catching him in the act. It would be at least an hour before you returned to your chambers, giving him plenty of time to cum before then.
He laid upon your bed – the mattress softer than anything he ever had the luxury of experiencing before – as he stroked himself to the thought of ruining you.
He wondered if the plush of your skin would be even softer.
Gods, how he would love to trace his roughened hands along your delicate body, squeezing your tits, groping your ass.
You could stand to have a bit of punishment too, he thought before envisioning how he’d have you on your hands and knees, smacking your ass until it was red and sore.
Or maybe humiliation would be better?
He groaned as he thrust up into his hand as he thought of all the ways he could ruin your status, humiliating you in front of hundreds – no, thousands – of your subjects.
Maybe he could take it a step further than he usually would this time – oh, how he’d love to ruin you until you were nothing more than a needy slut for his cock.
“Fuck–” he grunted, before turning his head to the side, where he eyed a pair of your discarded panties in the corner of your room.
“Fuckin’ brat never learns to clean up after herself,” he muttered, climbing out of your bed to go pick them up.
Lucky me, he thought, bringing your panties up to his nose and inhaling deeply, his knees nearly buckling.
Somehow, the head of his cock turned an even angrier shade of red after breathing in your scent, with his length getting so stiff that it almost hurt.
“Fuck– princess,” he groaned, “smell so fuckin’ good,” he added, walking back to your bed before inhaling more of your musk, hips bucking involuntarily into his hand – his cock getting impossibly harder as he fucked himself to the thought of you.
“Gonna make me fuckin’ cum like this, you fuckin’ brat.”
His abdomen tensed as his seed shot out from his reddened tip, spilling it all over his hand and lower stomach. He hissed as he continued to stroke himself through his orgasm before pulling his hand back and letting it fall against the mattress, panting heavily.
“Are you sure you don’t have any spare clothes that fit, my princess?”
Sanemi’s eyes shot open, hearing your assistant’s voice from outside the door.
“Yes, I checked every single one and they’re all too tight! I’ve had difficulty breathing all morning because of this stupid outfit!”
You shouldn’t be back yet, he thought, but then again he did disrupt your morning for the third time this week – perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised.
He shot up from your bed, quickly stripping it as well as gathering any dirty clothing you had lying around before transforming himself into a maid.
The door opened, and Sanemi had to hold back a grin when he saw how frustrated you were, his cock starting to harden once more upon seeing your face contorted into a pout.
“Why are you here?” you asked him, before your assistant put a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“Leave her be, my princess, she’s just doing her job.”
Sanemi nodded to her and took the linen that he had gathered out of your chambers, leaving you and your assistant alone for the time being.
By the time he was out of sight, he snapped his fingers – causing the linen to disappear completely.
It’s not like you’d care about missing some bedsheets for a while, right?
—
Y/N’s POV
You awoke the next day to the smell of smoke.
You weren’t able to sleep much anyway — namely due to being limited to a simple blanket as you laid on your bare mattress — all because the maid who took your sheets didn’t bother to communicate with anyone else that your bed would need to be made before you retired for the night.
After dipping in and out of sleep, tossing and turning in your freezing room, the sun had finally started to rise, and, although you usually never awoke before it was at least halfway up in the sky, today your sense of grogginess was replaced by complete alarm.
Was the castle burning?
You ran to the doors of your chamber, your already too-tight night slip nearly causing you to trip as you reached for its handle.
Cold.
You slowly opened the door, and the absence of flames relieved you.
Only thinking of yourself, you carefully made your way down staircases and through corridors – the smoke only becoming more intense the further down you went.
Perhaps a kitchen fire?
Yet, as you found your way to the castle entrance, you started to realize that the smoke had been coming from outside rather than in the castle.
Careful to not show your face through any windows – in order to protect yourself from being targeted by any potential enemies or rioters outside – you listened for voices and yelling to determine if the castle was under siege.
But, other than the distant crackling of flames, the night was silent.
Exhaling your fear, you gained enough courage to peek through one of the windows. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you thought to go outside so you could locate the source of the smoke.
The castle door creaked open, and a plume of smoke entered through the doorway, resulting in a series of coughs which erupted from your throat. The grass you were on was dry as you walked further, the blades poking at the soles of your feet with each step.
You saw the orange glow of the flames in the distance, and, by the time you got close enough to see what was burning, your blood ran cold.
Your garden.
The entire area had been engulfed in flames – the plants reduced to cinders and ash.
Tears ran down your cheeks as you watched the only place you felt true peace burn to the ground, the fire growing in size until reaching a crescendo of roaring crackles as it burned every remaining piece of your soul, unrelenting until the fire decided to quell itself, returning the borrowed flames to the sun as it rose above the horizon.
Until what remained was nothing but char and dirt.
You sat there for what felt like hours, sitting silently as your eyes reddened – from the smoke or from crying, one wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Your highness…” you heard a soft voice behind you, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around.
The gentle, reassuring hand of your lady-in-waiting laid upon your shoulder once more – just as it had many times this past week. It was her way of consoling you, no matter how horrible things were.
“I’m so sorry,” was all she could offer, squeezing your shoulder as you gazed upon your garden – or what was left of it – in silence.
“Thank you, Mitsuri – but this isn’t your fault.”
Your friend sat down beside you, rubbing your back as you two watched the remaining embers flicker in and out of existence.
Until there was nothing else left for you to have.
—
Sanemi’s POV
Sanemi was smug – surely a fire would get your attention, would it not?
It was his last resort, but you had just been so awfully bratty and hostile to those around you.
He couldn’t just stand by the sidelines and let that happen, right?
The afternoon was eerily quiet, he hadn’t heard you yell for your assistant once today. Once you got back from your silly little playground, you locked yourself up in your room, not opening up for anyone.
So, that evening, he took on the form of that one maid again, and stole a skeleton key from one of the royal staff.
“Princess? May I come in?” He knocked on your door, and, after hearing no response, decided to unlock it, knocking once more as he entered.
You were sitting on your bed, staring into nothing, your hands lay silent in your lap.
“Princess?”
“What do you want?” you nearly whispered, as though the room around you might shatter into pieces should you speak any louder.
“Er–” Sanemi quickly skimmed through your daily schedule – something he had memorized every detail of – in order to come up with some excuse for interrupting your time alone.
However, he did not have time to answer, as you stood up and held your arms out from your sides – your expression flat and emotionless as your eyes remained fixed on the ground before you.
“Apologies, that was a stupid question,” you continued, your tone almost dejected before looking up at the maid before you, “It’s time for my bath, isn’t that right?”
“Yes– yes, princess, of course,” Sanemi stuttered.
You simply stared, before speaking up, “well? Are you going to undress me or not?”
Sanemi’s ears flushed a bright red, but did indeed walk behind you – not wishing to reveal himself as an imposter by acting strange – and started to lift up your night slip, the very one you hadn’t changed out of since last night.
You smelled of burning ash, which wasn’t much of a surprise to him – but he didn’t expect you to withstand the smoke for so long, just to stare at the flames that he created.
He removed your night slip, using all of his willpower to not stare down at you while you were indecent.
“Take me to my bath, please,” you requested silently, and, to much of his surprise, he obeyed without a second thought.
He took your hand, leading you to your bathroom, where he simultaneously filled up your tub with warm water with the slight wave of his hand – as though it had been prepared for you all along, as though he knew this would be what he was getting into as he entered your room – your home.
You sat down in the clear water, ash ebbing off of you in ripples as water gently sloshed around you. He reached for a nearby cloth, and lathered it in soap, before rubbing it up and down your back, bubbles forming with each swipe of the cloth.
You remained oddly silent, letting him wash you as he pleased – of course, you didn’t know it was him.
He doubted you’d let him be within ten feet of you if he wasn’t acting as someone else.
Yet, when he went to clean your shoulders, he placed his false, dainty hand upon your shoulder, and you sniffled.
You were crying.
“Princess?” he asked cautiously.
You brought your hands up to your face, hiding yourself from the maid that washed you.
“What is happening to me?” you sobbed silently, breaths shaky as you inhaled, “My last few days have been horrible, and today was just— my garden is gone.”
Normally, Sanemi would feel a spark of pride upon hearing that he got under his victim’s skin, but now, he felt nothing but pure guilt.
Had he gone too far?
“Perhaps I’ve been cursed,” you whispered, “all I wanted was to live my last few days before I'm married in peace. I’m to be wed to someone that I don’t know the first thing about, to be silent and obedient, adhering to my husband’s every wish.”
He remained silent, unsure of what to say – he had been the cause of your suffering, at least in the short-term. This marriage of yours seemed unavoidable, something you’d have to endure for god knows how long.
He turned your face by your chin, gently pressing the washcloth to your cheeks, wiping away soot and tears with a few simple strokes.
“I don’t even know what I did wrong, it all feels so– so unjust,” you confessed.
Had Sanemi not had centuries upon centuries to learn keeping up facades, he would have given himself away right then and there. In a mere second, you managed to replace the guilt that festered within his heart with pure rage.
How blind were you?
He said nothing as he finished washing you up, being careful to not scrub harshly at your skin despite his anger and hatred, and then toweled you up by the time he had finished.
“Good night, princess,” he uttered before leaving you to dry yourself, resolving to not take a single glance back as you looked at him – or, looked at the maid – in pure confusion and hurt.
—
Y/N’s POV
“My princess,” Mitsuri whispered as she woke you up, “you slept for so long – it’s about time to get ready for the ball tonight.”
Your eyes shot open, anxiety spiking in your chest, “already?”
Mitsuri nodded, eyes softening in concern for you.
Fuck.
Mitsuri brought in a champagne colored dress which had been specially designed for you – taking all of your measurements into consideration, as well as a white mask with gold lining, and white feathers which were reminiscent of a swan.
Mitsuri helped lace up the dress, which, unlike the rest of your outfits, thankfully fit quite well. She then placed the mask on your face, before taking your hand and gently leading you down to the great hall – where the festivities would soon begin.
Upon opening the doors, it became difficult to breathe, with people clustered together, voices clashing together as conversations carried through the hall. There was some dancing, yet those who were taking their chances on the ballroom floor seemed rather clumsy and uncoordinated in their steps, while those who were on the sidelines speaking with relatives and strangers alike sampled foods from trays that disappeared and reappeared along with the waiters that weaved haphazardly through the hall.
You walked toward the front of the room, picking up your dress so as to not trip on the ornate staircase which led up to where your father – and King – waited for you.
“You look quite beautiful, my child, I hope you will be able to enjoy tonight’s celebrations,” he beamed, and you nodded in response.
“Are there any plans you have for me, father?”
“I do have a few princes I’d like for you to meet – namely those from the Agatsuma, Iguro, and Rengoku bloodlines. They all show promise – perhaps some more than others – of being benevolent rulers.”
As though prompted, a blonde man walked up the stairs toward you and your father, his hand shaky as he extended it toward you. Otherwise, there were no particular qualities of his that stood out to you. You looked at him expectantly, awaiting some sort of introduction.
“Y-your highness! May– may I please have your first dance of the night?” the man before you sputtered, and it took everything within you to properly school your expression so that your father wouldn’t scold you for poor behavior.
“May I know who I have the pleasure of dancing with?” you managed to ask the blonde, who seemed as though he would keel over and faint at just about any moment.
“Oh– I’m Zenitsu Agastuma, sorry–” he introduced himself, bowing before you.
Reluctantly, you curtseyed back, before placing your hand in his, grimacing at the clamminess of his skin.
He placed his other hand on top of yours, “Thank you! I promise you won’t regret this!”
He took you down to the floor, muttering brief apologies to every person you two passed by. By the time you two the center of the great hall, he took one of your hands and placed it on his left shoulder blade, before taking his right hand in your left.
“Are you expecting me to lead?” you asked, and his face went bright red.
“If that’s alright with you, my lovely princess, and– if we could just do a simple box step, perhaps? I– I’m not too good with dancing,” he said sheepishly.
You sighed, deciding to take the lead in a box step, with him following each of your movements, until he tripped over your shoes.
“Sorry! Sorry!” he exclaimed, obviously nervous, his movements short and jittery with each subsequent step.
You sighed, but then he tripped over your feet again, and again, muttering out apology after apology each time.
By the time the song had finished, you’d had enough of him and walked him off of the dance floor.
“Wait– please! Give me another chance! I– I promise I’d be a good husband, please!” he babbled, tears flowing down past his mask and down his cheeks. You forced him off of you, shaking your hand so he’d let go.
You went to sit down next to your father, who seemed to be chuckling in amusement.
“Are you laughing at me, father?” you asked, your tone tense after what humiliation the blonde had caused you in front of your subjects.
“No, no– I promise I’m not,” he smiled, before summoning the next prince that he’d mentioned – a rather short man with black hair. Through his mask, you could see that his eyes were quite beautiful – being two separate colors.
Yet, his eyes were elsewhere, staring longingly at your friend, Mitsuri, rather than you.
“Erm– hello, may I ask for your name?” you asked the man.
“Hmm? I’m not interested,” he said curtly, “I decline the opportunity to dance with you, princess.”
Your mouth hung open, absolutely offended by the man before you.
“Are you absolutely sure, Prince Iguro?” your father questioned, and the prince nodded in affirmation.
“Yes, please honor my choice, your highness.”
Your father sighed, dismissing him and the prince quickly found his way to Mitsuri, who started blushing up a storm as soon as he started speaking with her.
At least one of us will have a chance at finding love tonight, you thought.
The last prince whom your father mentioned was summoned next, a young man who seemed rather jovial and filled with vigor, with hair that resembled that of flames themselves and eyes that were reminiscent of crackling embers.
“Your highness, would you be so kind and allow me to dance with you?” he smiled, a grin that was infectious as it caused you to return your own.
“Of course,” you happily responded.
He took your hand, kissing your knuckles before leading you back to the center of the ballroom, placing a hand on your left shoulder and leading you into the dance.
“I hope that this evening has fared well for you so far, my dear princess,” he said, twirling you around.
It was comforting – he was comforting. He provided you with air where you felt you could not breathe.
“It is going much better now that I am here with you, dear prince,” you smiled, “may I ask for your name?”
“Kyojuro Rengoku,” he answered, before leaning you into a dip and bringing you back upright, guiding you into another step, and another.
He was incredibly smooth with his movements – all until a waiter accidentally bumped into him, spilling wine down the back of his suit.
“My prince! I’m so, so sorry–” the waiter apologized, trying to clean up his suit with a spare cloth.
Kyojuro simply laughed it off, “it’s quite alright, dear waiter,” before turning to you, whispering “I’ll go get changed, and then I’ll be back for you, alright, my dear princess?”
You felt a warmth creep up your cheeks before nodding, seeing him give you a quick wink before he was off.
Your observing of the kind prince was interrupted by a gentle touch to your shoulder. Thinking it was Mitsuri, you turned around with a smile on your face, which quickly faded into one of confusion upon seeing the person in front of you.
“Hello, princess, may I have your next dance?”
The man before you was about as tall as Kyojuro, with white hair that seemed untamable. A man who displayed scars in every place of exposed skin, his raven mask unable to fully conceal the ones on his face.
Perhaps he was a royal knight of some sort?
“And who are you, may I ask?” you inquired, and a small smirk stretched along his lips.
“Sanemi, dear princess, my name is Sanemi.”
He extended his hand, which you observed had a similar scar to the one you thought Mitsuri had just a few nights ago.
Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his – immediately noting the warmth and roughness of his skin – as though he’d spent years working with them. His grip was firm, but not harsh – indicating knowledge of his own strength.
His right hand slid down to the small of your back, finding its purchase just above your hip – not daring to go lower. He led you into a similar waltz that Kyojuro placed you in, yet, this one somehow felt more…intimate.
“Sanemi,” you started, rolling his name along the tip of your tongue, “do you not possess a last name? Or are you perhaps a scoundrel with a tarnished reputation?” you teased, each step between the two of you smooth, almost calculated as he led you through the ballroom.
“Do you believe you have earned my last name, princess?” he whispered hotly, to which you felt heat prickle along your face.
He chuckled, “apparently not. But–” he led you into a quick spin, before pulling you close once more, “if you get to know me well enough, perhaps I’d be so willing to indulge in your curiosity.”
“Get to know you? Is that supposed to be some sort of challenge?”
“If that is how you perceive it,” he responded vaguely.
Curious, you were – the man before you hauntingly beautiful, the smoothness of his voice and his mystery, combined with his confidence made it difficult to believe he wasn’t of royal blood..
He’d definitely be fit as a King, you thought.
“What, may I ask, is your occupation then, Sanemi?” you asked, wishing to glean more information from the masked man.
“I’ve done quite a few things in my life, and I’d say that I'm competent in all that I do, princess.”
“A jack of all trades is a master of none, you should know,” you challenged.
“Ah, but oftentimes better than a master of one,” he continued, leaning closely into you, his breath gracing your ear, “and trust me darling, I’m a master of all of my works.”
Your face heated up at his claim, thanking the fact that he’d led you into a spin, so you could somewhat hide your embarrassment.
“Is that so? Then I think you’d have to show me one day, Sanemi.”
“Who’s to say that I haven’t already?” he avowed, his violet eyes sparkling behind his mask with knowledge unknown to you.
“What do you mean?” you inquired, side-stepping before he leaned you into a dip, his eyes looking directly into yours as he leaned closely into you.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, dear princess, I promise you’ll find out soon enough.”
As he brought you back upright, he parted from you, before taking your hand and kissing your knuckles – just as the prince before him did.
With his other hand, seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out an orange lily, and placed it into the hand that he kissed.
“I found this growing on the outskirts of your garden just yesterday. Such a shame the beautiful thing burned down.”
Speechless, you took the lily from him.
“Your condolences are appreciated.” You brought the lily up to your nose to take in its scent, before smiling at him and curtseying. “Thank you for the flower, and the dance, Sanemi, I’ll do well to remember you.”
—
“Father, please, I implore you to tell me who you have decided upon,” you begged, having waited impatiently until a majority of guests had exited the palace and gone home. Maids and servants proceeded with cleaning up the hall quickly after most of the festivities died down, and by now, most tables had chairs overturned on top of them, and mops could be found in use scattered throughout the ballroom floor.
“My dear child, I am not able to give you an answer as you so wish. My advisors and I will need to convene and discuss our thoughts on what marriage would prove best for our kingdom.”
“Well, if you’d let me, I’d hope that you’d keep in mind that prince from the Ren–”
“My dear, as much as I’d love to take into consideration your opinion, this is a matter of kingdom survival, and thus my advisor’s opinions will have much more weight than my own child’s.”
Your mouth fell slightly agape, “but, didn’t you promise that you’d take into consideration the prince I got along most kindly with?”
“I did, my dear, but I have decided to rescind that statement. After your rather childish tantrum you displayed in front of me and my advisors, I came to the realization that you are not mature enough to make decisions that take more than just yourself into consideration.”
“But–”
“Child, indeed it is a most regrettable decision, but if I am to keep the kingdom’s interests in mind, then I will do what I believe is best.”
Tears of anger brimmed in your eyes as you once again stormed away from your father, exiting through the rather large doors at the end of the great hall and marching through them. You raced toward your chambers, where you wished to sob into your pillow until the morning came.
“Your father is right, you know,” a low voice spoke from one of the more darkened corridors as you passed by, causing you to stop dead in your tracks.
Looking around, you saw no one – you were alone, and yet, somewhere, someone was speaking to you.
Not only that, but they’d also listened in on the conversation you’d had with your father.
You peeked down one corridor, trying to make out a figure in the shadows, when you were suddenly pushed into the stone wall, a hand reaching around your mouth as a body held you in place.
“Don’t. Scream.”
A muffled cry came out of your throat, which prompted the assailant to point a cold, metal blade to your throat.
“The hell did I just fuckin’ tell you, sweetheart?”
Your breathing became rapid, panic ensuing as the knife trailed down your throat – just gentle enough so as to not draw any blood.
“Y’know, princess, I’ve been tryin’ to get you to see your wrongdoings this entire fuckin’ week,” the stranger started, “but you just don’t fuckin’ learn, do ya?”
Your eyes widened as you realized this person had been responsible for everything.
Including your garden.
In a fit of rage, you tried biting your assailant's hand, to which he simply moved it to constrict lightly around your throat.
“Oho–! Do we have a biter here, sweet thing? And to think that I always thought your bark was worse…”
“You bastard, let me go! I’ll have your fuckin’ head for this!”
“Oh sweetheart, you’ll definitely have my head, but not in the way you seem to think. Y’see, I’ve been tryin’ so fuckin’ hard to get you to understand how pretentious you are, how much of a snob you are, and, frankly, I’ve run out of ideas, princess.”
He turned your face towards him, making you realize it was the same person who’d danced with you at the ball – the man with the scars, the white, unruly hair, and his strikingly violet eyes.
“Sanemi?” you asked, even though in your heart you knew it was him.
Sanemi grinned, “ah, so you do have a brain up there in that pretty little head of yours,” he sneered at you, “then maybe this last little lesson I give you will be the one that finally sticks.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” you hissed, and Sanemi chuckled as you struggled against him.
“Oh, princess, have you not realized what I���m gonna do yet?” he cooed mockingly, “I’m gonna fuck the brattiness out of you, sweetheart.”
A small gasp left your lips at his assertion, yet, you couldn’t help the feeling of heat spreading both across your cheeks, as well as the kindling of flames within your lower stomach.
You were to be forcefully married, to live a life of servitude to your husband – who will be pronounced King once your father passes, to endure a loveless marriage – with tolerance of your significant other being the most you could possibly hope for.
You could have a little fun before all that, couldn’t you?
Sanemi darkly chucked behind you, “I can smell your arousal, sweet thing, you really do want this, don’t ya?”
The man threw the knife to the ground before licking a stripe up your neck and leaving bites across the expanse of your skin, starting with your earlobe and working his way down to your shoulder, teeth sharp as they grazed along your body.
You shivered, embarrassment flooding your veins at how you reacted to his touch – you shouldn’t want this, you were a princess, a proper lady who knew that doing such acts before marriage was scandalous.
But, did you truly care about your marriage?
With each brush of his roughened hands against your skin, the consequences that threatened your wishes of this continuing faded further and further.
Sanemi worked his hands to the center of your back, his fingers deftly untying the lace of your dress – as though he had experience in such skills before this.
“Such a fuckin’ slut, wishing for me to take you before you’re married – what would your father think?” he asked mockingly as he pushed your dress down, revealing your breasts to him.
“Oh– that’s right, you don’t care much of what he– or anyone– thinks, do you?” he answered his own question, before leaning down and pursing his lips around one of your nipples, sucking harshly at your tits, earning a soft gasp from you as your face contorted at the sensation. His tongue laved against the softness of your skin, before biting down – making you let out a sharp hiss before bringing your hand up to his hair and tugging at it.
He looked up at you, hate and lust evident in his eyes as he pulled off of you with a lewd pop, and, just before you thought he would move on to the other tit and perform the same actions, he instead raised his hand and gave a sudden, hard slap to your breast.
“Ah–!” you gasped, evoking a laugh from him.
“Oh, do you like pain, brat?” he taunted, causing you to flush intensely across your cheeks as he landed another slap to your other tit, to which you let out another, shorter gasp from you.
“Answer the question, slut.”
Whimpering, you slowly nodded, and he grinned before roughly grabbing at your tits, rolling your nipples in between his fingers.
“Then get on your knees f’ me.”
You looked at him as though he were crazy, but, with one last slap to your tits, you quickly complied, lowering yourself to the ground.
“Isn’t this a sweet sight?” Sanemi chuckled, “a princess kneeling before someone else – how cute.”
Humiliation seeped into your veins as you looked down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes with your own, until he forced your chin up, and– after a small wave of his hand, you felt someone else pushing you down onto all fours. Flinching at the contact, you quickly turned your head around to see another Sanemi staring back at you – fully naked and littered with scars.
“What–” you started, before the second Sanemi started to rip your dress off of you – ruining it beyond repair.
“Oh, are you surprised, princess?” the original Sanemi asked, “how did you think all of the shit that happened to you this past week came about?”
Before you could answer, a rough smack landed on your ass, the strength of it causing you to be pushed forward as you whined at the stinging pain that Sanemi’s hand left behind.
“That’s one, brat, I think you could stand to handle a bit more, can’t you?” the Sanemi in front of you decided before taking his cock out of his pants as the one behind you dealt a smack to your other asscheek. He started stroking his cock with his fist as his double continued his assault behind you.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet already,” muttered the one behind you, as you felt two fingers dip in between your folds – collecting your slick before landing another blow, “such a goddamn whore, aren’t ya? And all from being spanked? You’re fuckin’ filthy, princess.”
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
Tears were starting to escape your eyes – your ass starting to feel raw from the constant blows. The tears found their way down your cheeks before the Sanemi in front of you lifted your chin up with one hand, stroking his cock furiously with the other as he groaned at the sight in front of him.
“Fuck– I’ve wanted to ruin you all week, princess, make you nothing more than a whore for my cock – to turn you into a braindead fucktoy all for my pleasure.”
You whined at his confession, leaning forward a little in an attempt to catch his lips with yours before he pulled away from you, leaving you feeling unfulfilled before his clone landed a harsh slap to your pussy – causing you to yelp as the clone started to prod his fingers at your entrance.
“Please, more,” you begged.
“Hmmm, I don’t think you deserve more, princess,” Sanemi smirked, before closing the distance between you and his cock – the tip of which blushing a deep red as precum seeped out from it.
“Be a good girl for once and earn your pleasure.”
You hesitantly looked up at him, before reaching out your hand and delicately wrapping it around his thick cock. Sanemi hissed, not fully expecting how soft and plush your hand would feel when wrapped around him.
Starting out with some slow, gentle strokes, Sanemi started bucking slightly into your hand – not used to how languid and soft your movements were. You traced your thumb over his leaking slit, gathering his precum before moving back down his length.
The clone behind you finally pushed his fingers deeper into you, making you whine at the intrusion as he curled his fingers inside your wet heat, moving at about the same pace that you stroked the other one’s cock, repeatedly pressing into that one area that pulsed pleasure through your abdomen with each movement. You writhed in his hold, resulting in him using his other arm to keep your hips in place as he fucked you with his fingers.
“M-More,” you whimpered, closing your eyes at the sensation of his fingers inside of you, his tortuous pace and his hold on your hips forcing you to take only what he decided to give you – what he thought you deserved.
“Uh uh–” Sanemi tutted, grabbing your perfectly styled hair into his fist, pulling your head up toward him, “keep your eyes open, brat, you still gotta work on my cock, remember?”
You nodded, opening your eyes as you focused on stroking his cock, increasing the speed at which your hand glided along his length.
Sanemi’s fingers, too, picked up a faster pace, two of his clone’s thick digits pumping in and out of you, until the only sounds that could be heard were the slick of your hands working on each other and the soft grunts and moans coming from each of your throats.
Then, without warning, the clone decided to remove his fingers from your pussy. Whining, you tried pushing your hips back to receive more attention from him, only to let out a shaky moan when you felt his wet tongue travel along your slit.
“Fu–uh–ck” you shuddered as he lapped up your juices, his hands spreading along the meat of your ass, making you wince slightly from remnants of the earlier punishment you received.
“Shit, you taste so fuckin’ good,” the clone muttered as he licked a broad stripe up your cunt, “fuckin’ knew you would, princess, you always smelled so damn sweet.”
“H-Hah–?” you tried to conjure a response, which more so resembled that of a moan as it tumbled out between your lips.
“C’mon, don’t tell me I’ve fucked you stupid already, princess,” Sanemi chuckled, “just what do you think happened to all that clothing of yours? Especially your panties– god I couldn’t get enough of ‘em, your scent would linger for so damn long.”
An intense heat bloomed along your cheeks, realizing just exactly what he meant.
Sanemi’s clone groaned as he plunged his tongue into your heat, lapping up everything you gave him as he ate you out. You continued stroking the other’s thick length, bringing your lips to the tip of his cock, experimentally licking at his leaking slit. Sanemi’s grip on your hair tightened, encouraging you to keep going – to keep serving him.
You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, a soft hum sending vibrations down his length as you reveled in the way his clone was sucking at your clit. Hollowing your cheeks, you started sucking at his bulbous head, using your tongue to lap up any precum that seeped out of his weeping slit. Sanemi pushed your head further down, impatient with you only giving attention to his reddened tip, which caused you to choke along his length as it entered the back of your throat, tears pooling around your eyes as your lips swollen lips took inch after inch of his thick cock.
“Fuck– that’s it, princess, just hold on a lil’ longer f’ me,” he grinned as he looked down at the mess you were quickly becoming, gagging around him like the good little slut you were, until he finally let you off of his cock, with you gasping for air.
Yet, his clone didn’t stop his assault on your cunt, switching between licking and sucking at your clit and feasting on the sweetness that came out of your wet heat. The original Sanemi put his hand underneath your chin once more, forcing you to look up at him as the tension in your stomach got tighter and tighter.
“God– so good,” you whined, relishing in how Sanemi’s tongue felt against your wet cunt, looking up at the one in front of you with the prettiest, watery eyes that he’d ever seen, eyes which begged him to let you cum.
Yet, just as the warmth in your stomach was about to spill over, the clone removed his mouth from your pussy, leaving you to clench around nothing as you whined and pouted at the one in front of you.
Both of them let out a light snicker, until the one holding your chin knelt down in front of you, grinning as he stared down at your pathetic form.
“Did you really think I’d let you cum so easily, little brat?” he inquired, the raspiness of his throat making his question all the more intimidating. You shook your head, knowing better than to argue or beg for what you wanted.
The Sanemi behind you gave a sharp slap to your pussy, causing you to yelp from how sensitive you were from the pleasure his tongue gave you only seconds before.
“Please– wan’ your cock, wan’ to cum around it,” you whined pathetically, trying to wiggle your hips as they were held in place by the clone behind you.
Sanemi’s eyes were wild as he smirked down at you, “Oh? You want my cock, princess? You want me to ruin you completely – make you a complete mess until you’re nothing but a hole for me to fill?”
You nodded quickly, eyes glossed over as he described what he could do to you.
“Fine, just because you begged so sweetly for it – but you won’t be getting my cock, princess – not yet. You’ll have to make do with my double’s – think you can do that for me?”
“Yes– please, anything, plea–ah!”
Without warning, the clone behind you shoved himself balls deep inside of your hot cunt, breaking past the thin tissue near your opening and pushing deeper, until his tip nearly kissed your cervix.
Sanemi’s thrusts were rough, plunging into your heat fully with each strong push of his hips. His balls slapped against your clit, providing extra stimulation as he fucked himself into you, turning you into a whining, moaning mess.
The original Sanemi took in every expression and movement you made, relishing in how he was finally able to break you down into tiny little pieces. He grabbed his cock as his clone continued pumping into you, and started fisting himself at an equally fast pace.
“Look at yourself, princess, so fuckin’ pathetic, aren’t ya?” he grinned, “you’d always carry yourself like you were the most important person in the room – like no one else mattered but you, all because of your goddamn status.”
You whined in response, unable to verbalize anything as your mind softened with every single thrust of his cock; you were becoming malleable, your mind opening and wishing to be molded by him the more he fucked you.
“I reject all of that. You were never important – you’re nothing but a fuckin’ brat for me to tame, a slut who needs nothing but a cock to make her happy.”
He slapped your face with his cock, some of the release which seeped out from his tip managing to find itself on your cheeks before he began stroking himself at a furious pace once more. His other clone pounded himself into your cunt, the blunt head of it fucking that one spot inside of you which made your mind go blank.
He was right – you weren’t a princess, you weren’t someone with status or wealth or royal blood – you were nothing but a hole all this time for him to use and fill, a cumslut, a cocksleeve – all for the man in front of you.
How could you be so blind?
All you could do was moan, becoming more and more pathetic as his clone filled you with his cock, clenching around it and gripping his cock like a vice, your cunt sucking him back in every single time he pulled out.
But it wasn’t enough.
You needed – you craved the Sanemi in front of you. You needed him – not his clone, to take you, to truly beat you into submission like the dumb little brat you were.
“Please, please Sanemi– I need you,” you begged with the man in front of you, tears filling your eyes once more as you pleaded for him to fill you – to make you his.
The Sanemi in front of you said nothing before standing up to his full height as his clone removed his cock from you. The original Sanemi waved his hand yet again, this time allowing a cushioned mattress to appear in the small, dark corridor the two of you were in.
The clone sat down on the mattress, before the original followed suit.
“Sit on my lap,” he demanded, and you obeyed immediately – thighs wrapping around his waist as he slipped his cock into you, to which your head fell to his shoulder as you let out what could only be described as a sigh of relief.
Sanemi gripped your hips, moving you up and down on his cock so you could get an understanding of what he wanted you to do, showing you exactly how he wanted you to bounce on his dick.
It wasn’t long before you grew enough confidence to perform the action by yourself, moving your hips up and down as you fucked yourself on his cock. Your arms found their way around his neck as you whimpered softly into his ear as you impaled yourself on him again and again – with no thoughts going through your mind other than the desire to make him feel good.
At some point, you noticed his clone behind you, a single digit nudging at the entrance of your asshole, pushing and prodding his finger gently so he could fully enter it inside of you. Heat prickled against your cheeks as you forced yourself to relax rather than tense at the unfamiliar contact – allowing the clone’s finger to work its way into your ass.
You continued to fuck yourself on Sanemi’s cock as one finger became two, opening you up further and further, before you felt a lubricant of some sort being conjured from the clone’s fingers, allowing him easier access to your hole as he continued fingering you.
“Relax f’ me, sweetheart,” the clone muttered as you whimpered in response, your movements slowing as you noticed his cock pressing against your ass – which had also been covered in lube – before slowly pushing into you.
You choked on a moan as you felt him stretch you out more than you thought possible, having fully stopped your movements in order to focus on accommodating his massive length inside of you.
Realizing this, Sanemi readjusted himself so that he was laying on his back, heels digging into the mattress before continuing to fuck into you. His clone got up on his knees before entering himself back into your tight hole, entering you when the other Sanemi pulled out – constantly being filled by either one of them without end.
“Fuckk,” you groaned, mind addled with pleasure as the two Sanemis kept filling you with their cocks, unrelenting in their thrusts as they bullied themselves deeper and deeper into your holes. You felt that same pressure building up in your abdomen again, becoming tighter and tighter with each plunge of their cocks.
“Please, ‘m gonna– ‘m gonna,” you begged Sanemi once more as your tears started to flow freely down your cheeks, pleading with him to let you cum.
“No. You’re gonna fuckin’ hold it. You don’t get to cum until I tell you to,” he answered, making you whine yet again at how unfair he was being.
They started fucking you even harder, thrusts unrelenting as they took turns filling you up. It took everything within you to not cum – to obey Sanemi’s command, shutting your eyes tightly as you tried focusing on anything other than how good they were making you feel.
Both Sanemi and his clone’s thrusts started to become sloppier, rutting into you as they both started to reach their own ends.
“I’m gonna cum in this fuckin’ pussy,” Sanemi growled, his voice raspy as he fucked into you, his cock starting to twitch as he neared orgasm, “gonna cum in my pussy, isn’t that right, brat?”
You nodded, “Please! Need your cum Sanemi, please cum inside me–!”
With one final stroke, both him and his clone released deep inside of you – flooding both of your holes with their hot ropes of cum.
“Fuck! Too– too much! Gonna– ah!”
You couldn’t help it– the feeling of them filling you up felt too good. Despite desperately wishing to obey Sanemi’s order, you ended up orgasming all over their cocks, gushing around them as warm ropes filled you up, with both of them groaning as you clenched and pulsed around them.
“Fuck–! ‘M sorry! ‘M so sorry!” you whined loudly as you came, hips betraying you as you attempted to prolong your euphoria by grinding down onto them.
After coming down from your high, you were met with a stormy glare from the man in front of you.
Your eyes widened, knowing you’d fucked up.
“I’m so sorry, Sanemi, I didn’t mean to, I–”
Sanemi grabbed your face, his thick fingers pressing into either of your cheeks.
“What did I fuckin’ tell you?” he asked simply, and a fresh set of tears brimmed at your eyes.
“Y-You told me not to cum,” you answered meekly.
“That’s right, brat,” he responded, waving his free hand to dismiss his clone – making his double disappear completely as he pulled out of your pussy. You whined at the lack of something filling you up, your poor cunt clenching around nothing once more as Sanemi moved away from you.
“On your back, now.”
You obeyed, flipping onto your back and spreading your legs for him without a second thought. You fought the urge to rub your clit – knowing it wasn’t your place to provide yourself pleasure anymore, as you watched him place his cock right in front of your entrance.
“Please, ‘m sorry,” you pleaded as you watched him glide it up and down your sopping pussy, gathering your slick on the tip of his cock. His lilac eyes met yours once more as he finally lined himself up at your entrance.
“If you want to cum so bad, fine. I’ll make you cum until you can’t even fuckin’ think anymore.”
He pushed his cock inside of you, flicking at your clit with his thumb as he dragged his length against your slick walls, brushing against that one spot which made you see stars.
“Please, nngh– need it,” you sobbed as he relentlessly fucked into you, before he took one of his hands and pressed it down on your lower stomach.
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll fuckin’ get it, brat–” he panted, “feel me? Feel my cock pressing all the way into your stomach?”
You nodded, eyes rolling back as he refused to let up, your orgasm building on itself again until it finally reached its peak once more.
“Fuck–!” you screamed as he fucked you through your orgasm, not letting up even as you came down from your high, denying you any break from the pleasure that he was giving you.
It wasn’t long before the next orgasm as Sanemi rubbed your clit at a similar speed to his thrusts, causing you to gush again around his cock. He groaned as your cunt pulsed around him, milking him for all he had – yet he didn’t stop, rather, he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you – denying his own release in order to fulfill his promise of overstimulating you.
At some point – you weren’t entirely sure when – Sanemi folded you in half, your legs reaching your shoulders as he slammed even deeper into your cunt, his cock brushing against your cervix with each stroke. Your mouth hung open, your voice emitting short, unrestrained moans as he continued his assault on your pussy – fully abusing it until it molded into the shape of his cock.
“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum, brat,” Sanemi grunted as his hips fell onto yours with every single stroke of his cock. You whimpered, wishing for nothing more than his cum to fill you up – to breed you like the whore you were.
You responded with incoherent babbles, whining and moaning the more he rutted into your cunt, his thrusts getting sloppier as he approached his peak for a second time.
“Gonna fill you up, make you pregnant before you’re even– hah– even married,” he panted, a promise which made you clench around him even more, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, brat?”
“Y-Yes!” you managed to voice as he slammed himself deep inside you one final time, grunting as he filled you up – triggering your own final orgasm, causing you to milk him dry as he painted your walls white.
Sanemi collapsed to the side of you as the two of you regained your breath, staying like that for a few minutes before either of you spoke.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said awkwardly, “for ruining your garden in the way that I did.”
In response to your silence, he continued, “I had gone too far, I took something that you held dear to your heart away from you. I’m sorry.”
“I think I need to apologize as well,” you finally said, “not just to you, but to the others as well.”
Sanemi turned on his side, holding himself up by his elbow as he looked down at you, a slight grin on his face.
“You mean to tell me that fucking you was the solution to your brattiness this whole time? Not the crows or the dead cow–”
“Shut up!” you laughed as you smacked him in the chest, only causing him to grin more from your reaction.
“Am I wrong, princess?” he jokingly inquired, to which you hid your face from him with the palms of your hands – until he pushed your arms away, looking down at you with a triumphant smile on his face.
“You’re so stupid,” you half-heartedly spit at him, to which he put a hand to his chest in mock pain.
“You wound me, princess.”
You shook your head, scoffing as he got up, making the mattress beneath you disappear with a final wave of his hand, causing you to fall slightly onto the cold floor of the dark corridor.
“Are you going somewhere?” you asked him.
“I’m not exactly fond of castles, sweetheart, I can’t stand the pretentious atmosphere they tend to have.”
“So you’re leaving?” you further questioned, a little upset with the idea of not seeing him again.
“I am, but, if you are going to miss me so terribly, I could always sweep in and take you away from this wretched place, but I doubt you’d so easily leave your status and wealth behind.”
You remained silent, knowing that it would be near impossible for you to forsake all of which you knew and had for a simple, spontaneous desire to say yes, you would.
Sanemi smiled, his eyes soft as he gazed upon you – what was once hatred now replaced with something rather unfamiliar before vanishing before your very eyes, leaving you to stare at the emptiness of the corridor that you were in – having become alone once again.
Sighing, you stood up, gathering yourself – realizing that your once torn dress had been somehow completely repaired – as though it were entirely new.
With a little bit of difficulty, you managed to put your dress back on before heading back to your chambers, the unease of being married the following day looming over your mind once again.
The chirping of birds could be heard from your window once more, and, out of pure curiosity, you decided to peek out from your window to gaze out upon what was left of your garden. Yet, instead of seeing nothing but scorched soil, you managed to spot the blooming of a new plant – one which had not previously grown in your garden at all.
Rain lilies.
Perhaps, you thought, I should go down there and nurture them myself.
Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @pastelbluecloudy3, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @llearlert, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @roronoagem, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701, @whatthefucksatan, @peachdues, @xxsabitoxx (If your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you. Apologies for the inconvenience.)
I hope y'all enjoyed :)
#demon slayer#kny#kimetsu no yaiba#sanemi shinazugawa#kny smut#sanemi smut#shinazugawa sanemi#sanemi#sanemi x reader#kny sanemi#hashira#kny x reader#kny imagines#kny fanfic#sanemi x you#sanemi x y/n#kny x y/n#kny x you#demon slayer smut#demon slayer headcanons#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer x you#demon slayer x female reader#demon slayer sanemi#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#kimetsu no yaiba x you#kimetsu no yaiba smut
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Moon Knight Masterlist
Under construction bc tumblr fucked up my blogs. Trying to fix a few a day bc im under a lot of presure to work and school and write so im doing what i can
All the boys
A New Start: You start therapy, but Marc has been acting weird. 🖤
Just Happy Accidents: Jack Lockley gets rearended.
You are Not Alone: After a half-hearted suicide attempt, the boys take you to a psychiatric hospital. Super self-indulgent what can I say
Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside: Steven meets Sam one night and they strike up a quick relationship. Both cheerful and loving, things go well despite Sam's mental health issues. As Sam gets to know and falls in love with Marc as well, hers and Marc's issues rear their ugly head, so does the face of a third alter and someone from Sam's past
Marc Spector
Steven Grant
Jake Lockley
Head Canons and Thoughts
Moon Boys with a reader with Bulimia
Marc Spector Headcanons
Moon boys with an agoraphobic reader
#jake lockley#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley smut#jake lockley fluff#Marc spector smut#marc spector fluff#Steven grant fluff#Steven grant smut#moon knight fluff#moon knight smut#moon knight hurt comfort#steven grant reader#Jake Lockley reader#marc spector you#steven grant you#jake lockley you#song fic#sick fic#ongoing fanfiction#moon knight series#oscar isaac#oscar issac characters
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"Like A Virgin"
Steven Grant x Fem!Reader/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader
Read Part 1 HERE
Read Part 3 HERE
Read Part 4 HERE
NOTES: Y'ALL the way my jaw literally DROPPED when not even H A L F a minute after I posted the first part, you guys were already exploding my notifs which I wasn't expecting AT ALL I swear Oscar Isaac's really got us sluts in a chokehold O_o
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUU!!! 😭❤️❤️❤️ This is truly wonderful and encourages me a lot, especially since this is my first ever Moon Knight fic AND the first time a story of mine blew up this much! This is also great cuz I've been terribly sick, but of course ✨️priorities✨️ I gotta shower our Moon Boys with some much deserved lovin' and it's just so fucking nice to see that it's paying off! \(^o^)/ I was so happy and inspired that I couldn't resist and just HAD to write this second part ASAP!
Dissociative identity disorder is also briefly mentioned here and if I made any mistakes, then I apologize and please kindly correct me. And I feel like the ending may be a bit rushed, but it's the best my tiny brain could think of!
I'll shut up now and I'm very proud and excited to present... PART 2!!! 🥳 And if you'd like to be tagged for any of the next parts, feel free to tell me!
Also Marc does something very asshole-y here oop
TAGS: @autismsupermusicalassassin @ungracefularchimedes @pimosworld @ababynova @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @anapnovo-blog @am-3-thyst @harrys-tittie @zukoisbabee @wiltedwonderland
Part 2: You made me feel I've nothing to hide
After work, instead of heading home, you rushed straight to the nearest boutique to buy yourself a new dress for tomorrow night. The butterflies in your stomach were doing somersaults and you felt as if you could spontaneously burst into song like in those cheesy musicals your former college roommate was so obsessed with.
You knew the employees were all looking at you oddly as you constantly giggled to yourself like some lovesick schoolgirl while you perused through endless racks of the latest fashion. Of course you knew you were acting ridiculous--crazy--but wasn't that what attraction or, dare you say, love did to you?
Besides, you wanted tomorrow to go perfectly. In your eyes, Steven Grant was already perfect--perfectly imperfect or imperfectly perfect, you didn't know or care which was which. You just knew that you liked him. A lot.
And it relieved and pleased you to the moon and back that he actually felt the same! So, who cares what anyone else thought?
You just hoped that after tomorrow, Steven would like you enough to go on another date. And another. Then another...
Maybe you were looking--wishing--too far into the future, but you swore you could almost hear wedding bells chiming in the distance.
God, is this what happens after being a total virgin for twenty-something years? There was absolutely nothing wrong with being a virgin, but your insecurity bugged you. What if you weren't at all what Steven expected?
But another part of you, a positive ray of sunshine, clobbered all your doubts. For once, you were going to be brave! You were going to take a leap of faith! You were going to control your life!
Because, in the end...it was worth it. Steven was worth it. Sure, you've experienced various crushes throughout your life, but not like this. Not with Steven. This felt more...serious. Adult.
It felt as if right from the get-go crossing fates with "Steven with a V", your life was about to change--for the better.
Of course you were afraid, and yet you've also never been more sure of something in your entire existence. You've been waiting this long and you're glad you did, and now you were ready to jump head first (and head over heels) into whatever adventure was in store for you--with Steven.
You then squealed excitedly when you spotted the perfect dress, ignoring the judgmental stares other customers shot you as you hurriedly grabbed it like a child in a toy store.
Yes, tomorrow was going to be a dream come true.
♡•••🌙•••♡
You arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes early. It was totally embarrassing how eager you were, but you couldn't help yourself. Though at least with how early you were, you snagged a good table overlooking the restaurant's beautiful back garden strung with fairy lights and you can have some time to calm down before Steven came.
And you looked stunning. Your hair tumbled down in elegant waves, light makeup adoring your face and donning the contact lenses you rarely used. And the dress you bought fit like a glove; it was the shortest dress you now owned, stopping around your thighs. It was baby blue and had an off-the-shoulder style with some frills, and it hugged your figure just right.
You felt very self-conscious. You've always fancied clothes like this, but never actually had the guts to wear them--until now. Did it really suit you? But you couldn't deny that you were happy and, truly, isn't that all that mattered?
"Shall I get you started, ma'am?" A waitress snapped you back to reality and you shook your head.
"Not yet, thank you. I'm still waiting for my...date." The word made you blush furiously, as if sharing a dirty little secret.
The waitress smiled and nodded, leaving you by yourself once more as you sighed wistfully.
You took out your phone from your purse, checking the time. 6:45 p.m. Alright, not too long now. And you double checked that the address you texted Steven was correct, which it is.
You settled back in your chair, peering over the garden and giggling softly.
"I'm right here for you, Steven."
♡•••🌙•••♡
"It's about time, innit?" Steven murmured, glancing over anxiously at his wristwatch for the umpteenth time. It was already eight p.m., a whole hour past your meeting time (not to mention he arrived embarrassingly early). And he was just informed by one of the servers that the restaurant was closing in thirty minutes, to which a pitiful look was also casted to him.
"It's not 'about time', Steven. It's late." Marc gruffly pointed out, Steven seeing Marc's reflection glaring back at him from the shiny silver flower vase set in the middle of the table. "Face it: she's NOT coming."
"Don't you dare say that." Steven's voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a certain edge to it that one would normally not hear from the soft man. "Y/N would never do that. Not her. She's just running late, I'm sure. Traffic and all."
"Oh, please, we both know that even the traffic here doesn't take this long." Marc scoffed. "Stop kidding yourself, Steven. She's. NOT. Coming."
Steven frowned, and with a shaky hand he pulled out his phone. He should've called you since way earlier. It was the logical thing to do, after all. But he was...scared. Scared that, maybe, a terrifying maybe, Marc was right.
He found your number and called you, pressing his phone to his ear as it began to ring. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until you finally picked up, voice groggy.
"Hello..?"
"Y/N..." Steven heaved a relieved exhale. "Hey, uh, I'm at the restaurant. Guess you got stuck in traffic?" He chuckled halfheartedly.
A long, dreadful pause. And then:
"Fucking EXCUSE me?"
Steven's eyes widened, having never heard you swear before. He was just about to ask what was wrong when you continued without skipping a beat.
"Are you playing with me, Steven? Is this what it is?!" You definitely sounded angry, but he didn't miss the faint sniffles coming from you. Shit, were you crying? What the hell was happening?
"How can you be such a...such a DICK?!" You shouted, causing him to jerk his phone a few inches away from his ear. "I fucking waited for you like a total idiot until closing time, you prick! You never showed and you never answered my calls! What the fuck can you POSSIBLY gain from toying with me, huh?!"
"W-Wait, I don't understand!" Steven was nearly hyperventilating, all the colour draining from his face and his mind running a mile a minute. "I-I'm here! Right now! D-Didn't we agree? Friday night, seven p.m.?"
You were dead silent. Steven was going to check if the call was still connected when you beat him to it.
"Steven... It's Sunday."
Steven froze. Then his eyes landed on Marc's reflection, refusing to meet his gaze and it clicked.
"Y/N." Steven said slowly, steadily, despite feeling like crying himself. His eyes were still on Marc, cold and pissed. "Please. I promise I have an explanation. I just... God, can we meet? Y/N, please, I'll come to you."
"No need." Tears threatened to spill from Steven's despondent eyes at your flat response, before you suddenly added: "I'll come to you. You said you were at the restaurant, right? Stay there."
You ended the call, and Steven flared at Marc--no longer caring if other people perceived him as a lunatic fighting with himself.
"Why the fuck would you do that, Marc?"
"Steven..." Marc struggled to find the right words, and the asshole actually had the audacity to look ashamed. "Listen, she's nothing but a distraction--"
"You always think you know better, yeah?" Steven laughed humourlessly. "A distraction? YOU stop kidding yourself, Marc. This is not just your life, but mine. And it's about fucking time you stop being such a selfish bastard!"
"Um, sir?" Steven winced, greeted by a baffled waiter. "We'll be closing soon, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave if you're not ordering anything."
Humiliated and repeatedly babbling apologies, Steven abruptly sprang out of his chair and dashed outside. He sighed deeply and collapsed listlessly on the ground, finally allowing the tears to fall.
He vaguely heard footsteps approaching until he saw a pair of worn bunny slippers in front of him. His eyes heavily dragged upwards, finding you staring back at him with an unreadable expression and breaths coming out in ragged pants.
"Y/N!" Steven jumped up, surprised you actually came despite the way he--the way Marc--treated you. Your bloodshot eyes and the dried tears on your cheeks only made him feel even shittier, much more fucked up than any beating he suffers on a mission.
Because at least with those, he can be confident that he and the boys would win no matter the challenge. But with you?
He had everything to lose.
Your hair was a total mess; glasses slightly crooked and you were in your pyjamas, a matching set of a purple tank top and shorts with stars and moons. The only thing you had covering you was a purple silk robe, drawing it closer to your chilly body as your eyes narrowed at Steven.
You should be mad at him, and you were. Still, despite everything, you hopped on to the first bus you saw and scrambled the rest of the way here as fast as you could.
But now that you were here...what in Khonshu's name were you going to do? You could scream at him with all the pain you haven't had the pleasure to release like you did on the phone, but you'd just be wasting your breath. Then again, he wasn't lying. He really is here. And it confused you more than anything.
And seeing him like this, looking so...sad. Well, it made you sad. Him miserably clenching onto a heart shaped chocolate box, fat globs of tears cascading down his cheeks as he gawked at you with his pretty doe brown eyes.
You raised your hand, and Steven shut his eyes as he braced himself for the slap he very much deserved--only to be met with your soft palm, wiping away his tears tenderly.
"Explain to me, Steven."
♡•••🌙•••♡
The travel to Steven's apartment was spent in deafening silence, but it brought upon a strange sort of comfort. Unconsciously, you hugged Steven's black jacket that he had offered you earlier even closer to your much smaller frame. It soothed your nerves, being completely enveloped in his smell; fresh soap with a hint of musky cologne.
Once you reached his unit, you couldn't help but smile. It was just so...Steven. It was a bit messy, but a good kind of messy. You didn't really know how to describe it, but it warmed your heart especially when you saw a giant fish tank with only one goldfish.
"Cuppa tea?" Steven asked to which you shook your head, facing him fully.
"No. I'm a 'get over it' kinda girl so whatever your explanation is, I'd rather we just nip it in the bud." You huffed before you halted, biting your lip. "Oh, uh, sorry... Of course, if you wanna have tea, you can. It's your home, after all."
Steven laughed, his first real laugh that entire day. "Are you always this nice to blokes you should be mad at?"
"Only if they are really into Egyptology and have beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous curls." You rolled your eyes though you couldn't suppress your grin before you cleared your throat, getting a hold of your stupid giddy self. "Now, explain."
Steven's demeanour instantly shifted, serious now and quite uneasy. But he nodded and gestured towards the couch. You walked over and plopped down, Steven sitting next to you and keeping a respectful couple inches between the two of you.
He looked down at the ground, carefully considering his words before meeting your gaze solemnly. "Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?" You nodded, previously learning about it in Psychology class and researching about it due to personal interest. "That's...what I have. I'm an alter within a system, and there are two others--Marc Spector and Jake Lockley."
"Am I correct to assume that when you asked me out...it wasn't actually you?"
Steven blinked, rather startled that you were taking this so well. "Yes. Jake was the one who asked you out."
"Was he also the one who didn't show up for the date?"
"No, that would be Marc." He grumbled. "And listen, I'm truly sorry about him. He's a right twit. It may not have been me who didn't show up, but that absolutely doesn't excuse the hurt it caused you. I am so, so sorry, Y/N."
Your brows furrowed, mulling over this new revelation. But...you believed him, especially when it explained all those times you secretly caught Steven muttering incoherently to himself or staring at his reflection and quietly reacting to something. You were curious about more, of course, but Steven didn't have any reason to lie about such a serious matter. And if he was lying, there were plenty of other things he could say. But the way he acted, and just the look in his eyes--he knew the risks of opening up to you, but he did it anyway.
You clasped his hands in yours, sighing. "I know I look calm right now, but trust me, I'm freaking the fuck out." You chuckled, and Steven felt safe enough to join you. "But... I trust you, Steven. And I believe you. Tell me one thing, though. Are you...into me? Like, at all?"
"Of course I am!" He replied in a flash, making you both pause before erupting into easy laughter. "Why would you even have to ask that, love?"
"It's just... Well, if Jake was the one who asked me out, it made me wonder if you really did like me." You mumbled, looking away.
Steven gently grasped your chin, tipping your face back towards him. "I've liked you since the day we met, Y/N. In your pink skirt and the cute little pigtails you had." He smiled, eyes so amorous and gleaming with sincerity. "Truth is, I've wanted to ask you out since forever. I'm just not as...forward as Jake is."
"And that's fine. But hey, we gotta thank him 'cause Lord knows I'd just spiral into a panic attack if I ever made the first move." You chuckled. But it gradually died down as Steven continued to stare at you, and you never thought you would ever have someone look at you the way Steven did; as if you were precious treasure hidden within a sacred tomb.
Slowly, ever so slowly, your body started moving of its own accord. You were leaning closer, closer, closer--a mere breath away from his lips before he piped up.
"I'm also Khonshu's Avatar!"
"Say what?"
"Um, well, you see--" He stammered, mentally slapping himself.
'Don't say anything, Steven.' Marc warned, and it took all of Marc's willpower not to seize control and actually slap Steven.
But it was too late now. Steven already said too much, but he wanted to be honest with you. Utterly so. And since you wanted to nip this in the bud, now was the best time more than anything.
"Erm... You've seen the news, yeah?" He didn't grant you the chance to respond as he rambled. "Masked vigilantes... Moon Knight and Mr. Knight? They're actually...Marc and I."
"Steven, this is--"
"I'll show you, Y/N. I'll summon the suit."
"Summon the soup? What is happening--"
Steven stood up, and a split second later there was a whirl of white. And sure enough, there was none other than one half of the mysterious heroes you've been seeing a lot on the news recently; his glowing white eyes locked with yours, crisp ivory suit and batons clutched tightly in his hands.
"Look, I know this is a lot to take in--"
"Handsome..." You blurted out before you can restrain yourself.
"Huh?" Steven blushed underneath the mask, and you were the same as your cheeks tinted crimson. Then you rose from the couch, closing the gap between you two and removing his mask.
His curls stuck every which way and his eyes were as wide as the full moon, making you giggle. "You're so handsome, Steven. And yeah, this is a fucking lot to take in. To be honest, a part of me is still wondering if this is all just a dream." You reached up, caressing the side of his face sweetly and smiling. "But...thank you. Thank you for being honest with me."
His batons dropped to the floor, trembling hands hesitantly settling on your hips. You noticed his Adam's apple bob as he looked down at you, tears once again glistening in his eyes. Happiness, relief, adoration--how can so many exhilarating emotions crash over him all at once?
"Can I be more honest?" He whispered, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed deeply into your eyes. "I...want you to stay with me."
Your cheeks hurt from how impossibly wide your smile has stretched, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling his nose with yours.
"I'm staying whether you like it or not, Steven with a V."
#Moon Knight#Moon Knight Smut#Steven Grant#Jake Lockley#Marc Spector#Steven Grant Smut#Jake Lockley Smut#Marc Spector Smut#Steven Grant x Reader#Jake Lockley x Reader#Marc Spector x Reader#Steven Grant x Reader Smut#Jake Lockley x Reader Smut#Marc Spector x Reader Smut#Reader x Steven Grant#Reader x Jake Lockley#Reader x Marc Spector#Reader x Steven Grant Smut#Reader x Jake Lockley Smut#Reader x Marc Spector Smut#Oscar Isaac
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Seiya's Dreamling Week Fanfiction Masterpost
Hello my darlings in Dreamling Fandom! Dreamling Week 2024 is upon us, and as part of the event, I'm making a masterpost of all my Dreamling fics! Some of you who have been here a while probably have seen me make different masterposts for various events so this shouldn't be anything new, just a more convenient list for all my Dreamling works.
Also, in tandem with @arialerendeair, I'll be collecting and reblogging other writers and artists masterposts! Here's how to send me your masterposts:
Send me an ask on Tumblr with the link to your masterpost
Send me a direct message with the link to your masterpost
Tag me in the replies to your masterpost
Once I've received your link, I'll send you a confirmation, add it to my queue and then reblog it during Dreamling Week. If you send me your masterpost during Dreamling Week, I will do my best to reblog it asap!
I am also going to be madly reblogging various posts, so if you don't have time to make a masterpost, no worries! I'm going through my own blog for content, and also the dreamling tag, so chances are high I'll catch your post.
Now that that's out of the way, let's get to the fic list:
Non-Explicit Fics
Six Degrees of Separation (Dead Boy Detectives crossover, Incomplete, 2/5 chapters, 3.5k words)
A Symphony of Hearts (Age Gap, Human AU, Incomplete, 1/2 chapters, 1k words)
do you remember all the city lights on the water? (Human AU, Complete, 1.9k words)
For The Birds (Human AU, Complete, 1.3k words)
Well Met, My Good Sir (Renaissance Faire Human AU, Complete, 1.6k)
first time, forever (Omegaverse, Complete, 1k words)
Begin Again (Retired Dream, Complete, 1.2k words)
dreaming of you tonight (Knight AU, Complete, 1.2k words)
a little of that human touch (Post Calliope Episode fic, Complete, 1.3k words)
Untitled Portrait of a Man (I Want to Obliterate Me) (Human AU, University AU, Complete, 5.5k words)
surely heaven waits for you (Simon Snow crossover, Human AU, University AU, Complete, 2.6k words)
Fly Me to the Moon (Human AU, Complete, 783 words)
Flowers for a Sick Man (Sickfic, Dream cares for Hob in the dreaming, Complete, 821 words)
Remember Me, For Centuries (Canon Divergence, Memory Loss, Complete, 971 words)
Hold me tonight (say it's all right) (Human AU, Complete, 1.4k words)
right where you left me (Canon Divergence, Hob doesn't meet Dream at The New Inn, Complete, 664 words)
Pictures of You (Episode 6 continuation, Complete, 807 words)
Everytime we touch (Fluff, Complete, 899 words)
Waking up together (Fluff, Complete, 584 words)
Duck Socks (Fluff, Complete, 503 words)
Unclip My Wings (Human Hob & Monster Dream, Complete, 1.4k words)
Don't Let the Light Go Out (Sci-Fi/Space Opera AU, Complete, 611 words)
Endless Love (Marriage fic, Complete, 1.3k words)
Set the Night on Fire (Human Hob & Dragon Dream, Incomplete, 2/4 Chapters, 10.4k words)
Coffee & Flowers (Miscommunication, Courting Rituals, Complete, 2.1k words)
The Lament of Morpheus (Rescue from Hell Fic, Angst, Complete, 2k words)
Dreams for a Dozen Cats (Meowpheus, Complete, 2k words)
A sweet dream (Main Character Death, Angst, Complete, 1.4k words)
they say our love's just like Magic (Magic the Gather Competitive AU, Human AU, Complete, 3.9k words)
Wake Up & Smell The Flowers (Human AU, Florist Hob, Complete, 5.3k words)
Mature/Explicit Fics
Soixante-Neuf - (Human AU, Complete, 1.1k words)
Turn the Page (A New Beginning, Another End) (Canon-adjacent AU, Fantasy AU, Complete, 42.9k words)
Summer Loving - (Human AU, Complete, 1.2k words)
All Wound Up (Human Hob & Centaur Dream, Complete, 3.1k words)
Midnight Pleasures (Vampire AU, Multiship, Complete, 16.7k words)
Waiting for Tonight (Supernatural AU, Complete 1.4 words)
sweet like poison ivy (Dreaming Sex, Complete, 884 words)
wrap me up nice and tight (love me all through the night) (Human Hob and Naga Dream, Complete, 3.5k words)
By the End of the Night (Centaur AU, Complete, 5.2k words)
In the Middle of the Night (In My Dreams) (Hobrintheus, Canon Divergence, Sequel Fic, Complete, 3.3k words)
Cherry Slick (Omegaverse, Age Gap, Selling Virginity, Complete, 3.5k words)
Spoils of War (Warprize Dream AU, Complete, 3k words)
secret moments (shut in the heat of the afternoon) (Omegaverse, Sequel Fic, Regency AU, Complete, 2k words)
Break Me, Shake Me (Omegaverse, Complete, 4.4k words)
Let's conspire to ignite (Fuck or Die, Complete, 11.5k words)
A Dream for a Viscount (Omegaverse, Regency AU, Complete 11.5k words)
A Maiden's Dream (Human Hob and God Dream, Blessed Maiden AU, Complete, 3k words)
A View to a Dream (James Bond crossover, 00 Agent Hob, Human Dream, Complete, 12.1k words
and if I get burned, at least we were electrified (Hobrintheus, Canon Divergence, Complete, 41k words)
#dreamling#dreamling week 2024#seiya writes#christ this took me so long to compile#this will be updated as I add fics for dreamling week as well!
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IVY | 18+ BLOG ONLY | MINORS DNI | SHE/HER | REQUESTS OPEN
Please read pinned post on each blog for more information.
Updates blog - @ivystoryupdates
Reader & submit posts blog - @ivystoryreader
Join my tag list
My current WIP list
Askbox
My masterlist below the cut
🔥 indicates 18+ story
🔥 3 Times Jake Lockley Tried to Kill You and 1 Time He Saved Your Life
Part 4/5: Saved or Kidnapped (May 25)
🔥 Moon Boys' Sex Drives (May 23)
You're Not Alone Moon Boys when you're sick (May 21)
What a Mother Can Be Moon Dads (May 12)
Spectre Marc Angsty Thots (May 10)
🔥 Ovulation Sensation Steven Grant (May 7)
The Only One Episode 8/10 Poe Dameron (May 5)
Established Relationship Stories - All Characters
Gender-Neutral Reader Stories - All Characters
Non-Romantic Masterlist - All Characters
_____ to Lovers Stories - All Characters
⋆*･ﾟ The Oscar Isaac Cinematic Universe is my Muse ⋆*･ﾟ
Moon Knight Masterlist
Poe Dameron Masterlist
Miguel O'Hara Masterlist
Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist
All Celebrations Masterlist
All-Year-Long/Various Holiday Fics Masterlist
Ivy's Featured Authors & Artists Masterlist
#ivystoryweaver#ivystoryweaver's masterlist#decadent fic#with you fic#miguel o'hara fic#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley#moon knight fic#moon knight#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#poe dameron#poe dameron fic#moon knight ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ#moon knight x reader#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight x you#marc spector x you#steven grant x you#jake lockley x you#moon knight fanfiction#moon boys#oscar isaac fic#oscar isaac characters#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#poe dameron x you
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Psych Whump Masterlist
💉💉💉
This is going to be my go-to list every time I find something with medical or psych whump in it that I want to remember. I'll reblog it frequently and try to keep it updated but it's going to start small because good psych whump is so hard to find. (This in no way endorses medical abuse, I'm a mentally ill individual but I love consuming psych whump in media. Just about everything in these movies, books, etc are at the very least morally gray so consume at your own risk. Also, I only enjoy these things in fiction. Irl it makes me sick to my stomach, I know bc I've experienced some of this.)
I'll try to add trigger warnings for each one but I might miss some so I apologize in advance. If you have any recommendations please message me! I'm scouring the internet for good psych whump but medical/sickfic whump is also wanted.
Movies:
A Cure For Wellness: Guy gets tricked into becoming a patient at a "resort" that's really a mental hospital in disguise that uses its patients for nefarious means.
CW: incest, medical abuse, teeth falling out, sexual assault, some weird eel shit
^^There's probably more but I haven't watched the film in a while.
TV Shows:
Moon Knight: Whole season of psych whump, the main character has DID and loads of past trauma. Has a huge ancient Egypt theme and the MC gets (kind of) forced to accept psychiatric care.
CW: lots of ableism, mental break, psychotic episodes, forced institutionalisation, child abuse, restraints
Gute Zeiten, schlechte Zeiten: German soap that's been running since 1992. The specific episodes that have good psych whump are from 26.5.2017 to 01.06.2017. Extremely hard to find online, only some clips/gifs exist as of now that are easily viewable.
Perception: Schizophrenic professor who teaches at a university spirals and gets put in a mental hospital. He has a caretaker friend who helps him and the professor also sees hallucinations of an ex-girlfriend who helps him solves mysteries.
CW: extremely inaccurate portrayal of schizophrenia, delusions, paranoia, and really any mental illness for that matter; lots of ableism, I think I remember one character calling the professor a freak, people treat him really badly
Books:
House of Leaves: This book is a fever trip but the MC (kind of?? The book has multiple authors, it's honestly very confusing but it's great) suffers from declining mental health and spirals hard.
CW: child abuse, lots of sexual content, mentions of a caretaker beating a child, mentions/delusions of sexual assault, death of a dog (it was brutal, huge warning), mentions/descriptions of suicide and attempted murder
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: This is chock-full of psych and medical whump, it all takes place in a psychiatric hospital (I've actually been to the one in the film! -Not as a patient)
CW: huge amounts of abuse from staff, doctors, nurses, there's also a scene where SA is implied on a patient, the MC is there after being convicted of SA'ing a minor and he's pretty unremorseful (the MC is a dick though anyways), racism, ableism
OG Works (not mine):
Redwood Psychiatric Insitute: Forced institutionalization, great read and it has just about every trope I look for in fics all packed into one series. Please give it a read, it's fantastic.
Source - https://www.tumblr.com/only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are/706656298337435648/redwood-psychiatric-institute-masterlist?source=share
by @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are
Fanfiction:
Into Your Arms: This is a Star Trek fanfic that follows a girl who has a severe eating disorder and mental illness. It's not the normal kind of sickfic or psych whump I go for but the aftercare in this is topnotch.
Source - https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185897
by moose-misses-sweets on ao3
CW: suicide attempt, severe eating disorder, abusive partner, cutting/self harm
Summarized List
Movies:
1. A Cure For Wellness
TV Shows:
1. Moon Knight
2. Gute Zeiten, schlechte Zeiten
3. Perception
Books:
1. House of Leaves
2. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
OG Works (not mine):
1. Redwood Psychiatric Institute
Fanfics:
1. Into Your Arms
Note: If something you made is on this list and you want me to remove it, please message me and I will. I don't check messages very often but it doesn't mean I'm ignoring you, I just forget I have a tumblr sometimes.)
*Extra note: this was originally posted on my side blog @ennead-of-whump but I'm slowly integrating that blog into this one. I'm now only going to be using my main blog @caspers-delusions which means I'm only going to update this masterlist post from now on.
#whump#psych whump#medical whump#psychiatric whump#recs#mental illness#masterlist#list#recommendations#moon knight#perception#into your arms#redwood psychiatric hospital#one flew over the cuckoos nest#house of leaves#a cure for wellness#new blog same person#gute zeiten schlechte zeiten
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Psych Whump Masterlist
💉💉💉
This is going to be my go-to list every time I find something with medical or psych whump in it that I want to remember. I'll reblog it frequently and try to keep it updated but it's going to start small because good psych whump is so hard to find. (This in no way endorses medical abuse, I'm a mentally ill individual but I love consuming psych whump in media. Just about everything in these movies, books, etc are at the very least morally gray so consume at your own risk. Also, I only enjoy these things in fiction. Irl it makes me sick to my stomach, I know bc I've experienced some of this.)
I'll try to add trigger warnings for each one but I might miss some so I apologize in advance. If you have any recommendations please message me! I'm scouring the internet for good psych whump but medical/sickfic whump is also wanted.
Movies:
A Cure For Wellness: Guy gets tricked into becoming a patient at a "resort" that's really a mental hospital in disguise that uses its patients for nefarious means.
CW: incest, medical abuse, teeth falling out, sexual assault, some weird eel shit
^^There's probably more but I haven't watched the film in a while.
TV Shows:
Moon Knight: Whole season of psych whump, the main character has DID and loads of past trauma. Has a huge ancient Egypt theme and the MC gets (kind of) forced to accept psychiatric care.
CW: lots of ableism, mental break, psychotic episodes, forced institutionalisation, child abuse, restraints
Books:
House of Leaves: This book is a fever trip but the MC (kind of?? The book has multiple authors, it's honestly very confusing but it's great) suffers from declining mental health and spirals hard.
CW: child abuse, lots of sexual content, mentions of a caretaker beating a child, mentions/delusions of sexual assault, death of a dog (it was brutal, huge warning), mentions/descriptions of suicide and attempted murder
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: This is chock-full of psych and medical whump, it all takes place in a psychiatric hospital (I've actually been to the one in the film! -Not as a patient)
CW: huge amounts of abuse from staff, doctors, nurses, there's also a scene where SA is implied on a patient, the MC is there after being convicted of SA'ing a minor and he's pretty unremorseful (the MC is a dick though anyways), racism, ableism
OG Works (not mine):
Redwood Psychiatric Insitute: Forced institutionalization, great read and it has just about every trope I look for in fics all packed into one series. Please give it a read, it's fantastic.
Source - https://www.tumblr.com/only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are/706656298337435648/redwood-psychiatric-institute-masterlist?source=share
by @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are
Fanfiction:
Into Your Arms: This is a Star Trek fanfic that follows a girl who has a severe eating disorder and mental illness. It's not the normal kind of sickfic or psych whump I go for but the aftercare in this is topnotch.
Source - https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185897
by moose-misses-sweets on ao3
CW: suicide attempt, severe eating disorder, abusive partner, cutting/self harm
Note: If something you made is on this list and you want me to remove it, please message me and I will. I don't check messages very often but it doesn't mean I'm ignoring you, I just forget I have a tumblr sometimes.)
This has now been moved to @caspers-delusions which is my main blog. I'll be updating the post from there
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Can I have "Thank you for choosing me" with Poe Dameron?
Campfire Confessions
Poe Dameron X f!bisexual!Reader
Hi there! This one was a bit self indulgent. I decided to do a coming out drabble! Hope you like it!
Tags/Warnings: SFW, reader is bisexual, coming out story, fluff, self indulgent, cute, comfort fic, platonic relationship, just friends (like actually).
Word Count: 372
“So, what did you want to talk about?” Poe asked, looking over at you.
The fire crackled in front of you while the critters of D’qar chirped in the forest. You poked the charcoal logs with a stick, sending sparks all over the ground. You felt a gentle, but large hand press to your back and rub in place. You didn’t look over at him, feeling too anxious to meet his eye.
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but you’re the one who wanted me to make a fire out here…away from base.”
You were trying to decide how you wanted to tell Poe that you weren’t only into guys, and that you were into women too. It wasn’t something you’d felt comfortable sharing with anyone, worried about the judgment that might ensue. You’d known Poe almost your whole life, he was like a brother to you, so it felt right that he should be the first to know. Now that you had finally set up the perfect moment, you couldn’t form the words.
“Ok, you’re scaring me, did you bring me out here to kill me or…” he chuckled at his own joke.
“I’m bi.” You said, finally looking at him directly.
His eyes twinkled in the light of the fire. His stubbled jaw shifted as his lips curled into a smile. Without a word, he leaned forward and pulled you into a warm embrace. He squeezed tight, nearly taking the breath from your lungs.
“Poe, I-can’t-breathe.” You choked out.
“Sorry, sorry.” He released you, letting you catch your breath.
You both chuckled while you leaned back and kept your eyes on each other. Poe pressed his lips together tightly before letting out a sigh of relief.
“Thought you were going to tell me something like you were leaving the Resistance, or you were sick or something.”
“Oh! No, nothing like that. I was just worried about everyone else knowing. You never know how people will react to this kind of thing.” You looked down at your hand and started picking at your nail idly.
“Well, I’m glad you felt like you could trust me.” He put his hand on yours. “Thank you for choosing me.”
Moon Knight Masterlist
Birthday Celebration Masterlist
#poe dameron#star wars#star wars fanfic#star wars fanfiction#star wars fan fiction#poe dameron x you#poe dameron x reader#poe dameron fluff#star wars fluff
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 🤍
Thank you so much for including me!! My favorite fics I've written (these will all be DinLuke):
No Glory in the West (83.6k words, Rated T, Graphic Depictions of Violence)
This was my first long fic in fandom and I loved writing every single word of it! At the time, I didn't see any other Western-themed work in the fandom and wanted to be the change I saw in the world. I really can't exaggerate on this, but writing this story changed my life. Since writing it, it's kinda taken a life of its own and inspired various other authors and artists to keep writing about those damn lovestruck cowboys. Anytime I've had the chance to affect someone's life, whether it's the folks that tell me they downloaded my story to read on a flight or the person that told me their fiance was sick of hearing them talk about The Cowboy Story, it tickles the hell out of me. It's an honor and a privilege to be a part of y'all's lives in some way, even if I help you annoy your significant other.
The Once and Future King (Ongoing; 88.8k words, Rated T, Graphic Depictions of Violence)
She's ongoing (and I take a long time churning out these chapters), but I love this story! I'm honestly never not thinking about TOAFK, never not jotting down lines and scenes and researching Arthuriana and courtly love and and and and. Not only is this a chance to write the Mand'alor Din storyline that I want to see, replete with the kind of romance that personally drives me crazy and the eldritch freaky space beings that I need, it's also a chance to explore the dynamics of power and politics in relation to religion and myth. I hope, if you're one of the ten people that read this story, these questions also keep you up at night.
Mornings of Gold, Valentine Evenings (25.3k words, Rated T)
This story was such a joy to write! Written for the unique crossover of the thirsty ice sports enjoyers and the Star Wars people. Most of whom are Canadian, apparently. This is another story that seems to affect people in the most interesting ways - I had a lovely commenter tell me they thought about my story while talking about the urban effects of hosting an Olympics while in a college class. I laughed so hard thinking about using an AO3 story in a bibliography page that I probably scared my cat.
AO3 user leorizanzel: writing Star Wars men kissing tenderly while also exploring the ramifications of hosting major international events in cities that were not built for such a purpose. Non-attributively, of course. Please do not actually put me in your works cited page; I don't know if I can handle the pressure of being used as a Source.
Bright is the Moon, High in Starlight (17k words, Rated T, Graphic Depictions of Violence)
I loved writing this piece so much - Regency-era werewolves and cravats and tea and foggy moors in the light of the full moon?? Transatlantic romances? Facing a monster out of sheer love, finding the humanity in the monstrous, and self-sacrifice because it's the right and noble thing to do??
Idk, she's everything to me.
East of the Sun, West of the Moon (3.2k words, Rated G)
A short piece written for DinLuke Positivity Week that was yet another excuse to write a courtly love, knight-and-king story full of daring deeds and ritual and the kind of romance that I prefer reading - once again, being the kind of change I want to see in the world.
Thank you so much for giving me the chance to talk about my work! I feel awful for not being as productive as I used to, but I'm still around - ever present, ever lurking.
#dinluke#lukedin#skydalorian#rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated etc. I am still very much alive#grad school is killing meeeeeeee
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