#Allie Heavenly

[nellarw95]

Happy Heavenly Birthday John 🎂💔

Jonathan Southworth Ritter 🤍

September 17,1948 - September 11,2003🙏🏻

We Miss You So Much 🕊️♾️

Buon Compleanno in Paradiso 🎂💔

17 Settembre 1948 - 11 Settembre 2003🙏🏻

Ci Manchi Moltissimo 🕊️♾️

[cakemagemaeve]

And yet, despite everything going on right now, I'm still thinking about converting to Judaism.

[nobuverse]

@midnightactual ll Plotted

It had been a routine mission at first, one Nobunaga and many other servants with the skill of Independent Action would often undertake. Davinci's sensors had located a holy grail replica, somewhere in the reaches of time. A singularity, as they called -it a breach so grand in the timeline of history that it threatened the very reality they were trying to restore.

Nobunaga's inherit powers as an archer allowed her to stay manifested for around two days without her master around, but they never dared send her out for more than a few hours to scout ahead without Ritsuka, and only when the threat to reality was considered rather minor - the type of thing that would barely require an effort to fix. As faint as the signal was that the staff achieved, they didn't disturb the young mage's sleep to mention the situation. They'd report to him in the morning, everyone figured, after Nobunaga's return report.

The coordinates are set for somewhere in Japan, sometime after 2016. Close to the time period they had wrongly labeled as "The final singularity". Simple. Easy, even.

But something goes wrong. Drastically so. The servant could knew it before she had even finished rayshifting to the coordinates. A blinding, searing pain shot across her nerves; like all her mana circuits had been fried at once. It ends as quickly as it starts. She stumbles out of the coffin with a gasp as the thing slowly dissolves from the world. She attempts to contact Davinci back on the ship, but gets nothing but static in her communicator. Useless.

Although she didn't feel any pain, it somehow felt as though she was missing a part of her- like a limb had detached itself without warning. Regardless, she figured the best thing she could do at the moment was simply get on with the mission that had been assigned to her, if for nothing else than a distraction.

She decides to begin in spirit form, walking in the space between the physical and ethereal planes. Though she can't interact with anything around her, she can at least take a good view of the city without drawing attention to herself. She finds nothing unusual, much to her dismay, but a thriving city. Certainly, one with its fair share of some less than appealing areas, but nothing that could explain what had peaked the interest of the radar. She would have usual taken the time to revel in the modern marvels far outside her time period, but she can't focus now. That uneasy feeling of anxiety was only growing stronger and stronger.

She materializes back into the physicals realm a few hours later. Thankfully, she was able to get a hold of Chaldea this time. But, as expected, the news isn't good. She's ended up no where near where she's supposed to- in another universe, entirely, even. It was one that ran parallel to that of their own - not interfering with their timeline at all. It means she can't simply rayshift back, it'll take a long time to get her back. Then, comes the worst news of all: her contract's been severed. She's lost her connection to her master- her source of mana. Though they'll try everything they can to save her, it's unlikely to happen within the span of two days. It's suggested she stay in spirit form to conserve the mana she has left.

-----

Two days come and pass, although it seems like an enteral wait. It's through either determination or sheer luck that she's managed to live this long, hoping to be reunited with her loved ones on board the ship: her wife. her brother. her best friend. her niece.

----

It's in a vain attempt to distract herself, spirit wandering from one rooftop to another, that she sees it for the first time. This shadow, a presence unlike any she's ever seen dragging its lumbering feet through the city gravel. It's half the size of an average house, figure both human and distinctly inhuman all at once. A large hole in its chest, gnashing teeth behind an ugly mask.

Nobunaga's first thought is how incredible it is that no one's reacting to its presence: only the destruction it accidently causes as it moves along. This beast was moving along unseen, overturning sidewalks and bending light posts.

She wants to reveal herself, but can't. She's been warned that if she manifests in her physical form again, there wouldn't be enough mana in her left to turn back - and she'd drain away her reserves before the end of the day.

Foolishly, she follows it. Even though she knows her time in Chaldea has made her soft, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to stand by if it went after a human life.

The result is predictable, in hindsight. When the mangy creature reaches for a teenage boy, sleeping on a bench in the middle of the summer afternoon, she breaks. Feet hit the roof tiles with a clatter as she manifests, a wave of her hand summons a matchlock rifle, and she fires. It roars as the bullet goes through its shoulder, the teenage boy awoken by the sound of the gunshot. Her rifle falls, sliding down the roof as it dissipates again. She focus on running now to lead it away, manifesting another between two houses, just enough to allow her to jump the gap. Her communicator has to be turned off, as it's already started annoying her ceaselessly. ( No doubt with Davinci and Sherlock screaming at her from the other side. )

She sprints as the beast runs after, leaving debris in its wake as it tries and fails to reach for her. Her only thought is getting it away from the general population, into an empty, open soccer field she had noted earlier.

Her landing is anything but graceful. She stumbles, almost falls. She decides to conjure one last loaded rifle, into her arms this time. She aims, and fires just in time as the white mask comes only a few meters from her. Blood splatters on her face as it falls, hopefully for good.

" Freak." She muttered, spitting at the ground. She had to get one last insult in before she collapses to her knees. Exhausted, but also not gone yet.

In a few hours time, though, that would change.

[primordial0riginator]

I love blocking people

[deathinfeathers]

.

[liroyalty]

@divinityunleashed said: NO. Give Ironwood a chance. He's not used to wamen. Not since Glynda left him.

"Ooh! He's shy. How adorable."

"I suppose that he managed to get away with a kiss without any grievous injuries says enough. Why not just simply ask her for a date, hmm?"

[yeyinde]

The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART SEVEN

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Swearing and Adam.

Notes: shit is about to go down.

PART ONE | PART SIX | PART EIGHT | NAVIGATION

“Because if you don't, I will personally kill you myself.” [Y/n] added, her eyes glaring down on Adam, her power and strength can be felt through the air and they can tell that she is absolutely furious.

“Oh shit.” Adam muttered underneath his breath. His boss' boss is here.

Adam nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, “Heyyy there [Y/n]... I didn't expect you to be hereee or rather, I didn't expect to see you today... Don't you have work...?” he says nervously, clearly not expecting the news would reach the Seven Heavenly Virtues this soon and [Y/n]'s eyes narrowed even more at him, her wings fluttering behind her back—puffed up and angry.

“Enough Adam, you've done enough pain and destruction here. Take the exorcists and your ass back hOME!” She sneered, her eyes looking at Adam with annoyance, “You and Sera will be held accountable for your actions and for your disobedience and if you don't want a severe punishment then I suggest you go home quietly and quickly. Do you understand?” she snapped, her voice filled with anger and authority. Reminding them who they're dealing with.

Adam avoided her gaze and eventually nodded, “I understood...” he muttered, opening a portal back to heaven with a snap of his fingers, “Exorcists! Fall back and return.” Adam ordered and flew past [Y/n], the exorcists following behind him.

The sinners just looked at the scene in awe, an angel ordering Adam to stop whatever the fuck he was doing and the man just complied without questions.

Lucifer's eyes never left her form, he never stopped looking at her in fear that the moment he blinks she will disappear once more. Like a dust in the wind.

[Y/n] sighed, her angelic form calming down once Adam and the exorcists left, the portal closing. She turned back to look down on the sinners. Her heart ached when her eyes finally landed on her husband. Her mind telling her to imagine it was Xavier but how can she? When Lucifer was missing Xavier's [e/c] eyes? That is not her son, that is Lucifer, her husband, ex-husband?? She doesn't know the status of their marriage and she's in too much in pain to care.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down her fast beating heart, she can feel her body is weakening even more. She barely got any rest, she's also wounded and her healing powers took most of her energy. She just hoped she had enough to last to return back home and back to her son.

She slowly flies down to where the sinners are, to where Lucifer is.

She landed in front of them gracefully, well, a little wobbly.

The sinners and Lucifer looked at her with hesitation, nervous whether she was a new enemy or an ally.

“Greetings, I am Raphael from the Seven Heavenly Virtues.” She greeted, giving them a small bow, “On behalf of heaven and the seven heavenly virtues, we apologized for Sera's, Adam's, and the exorcists' behavior. This cleansing wasn't approved by the others and was done without the other's notice. We will make sure that they will be held accountable for their actions and disobedience. We never intended for sinners to suffer like this.” she says, her voice quivering before kneeling in front of them.

This is so embarrassing. [Y/n] thought to herself.

Their eyes widened in surprise to see an angel, a seraphim angel prostrate herself, her head on the ground as she asked for their forgiveness.

They were also surprised to know that this cleansing wasn't a decision made by the entirety of heaven but just a few people.

Charlie waved her hands, trying to get the woman to stop kneeling, “Um... Please raise your head...” Charlie says nervously.

Lucifer was speechless, how could he not? His first wife that he didn't see for so many millennia is here. His eyes caught sight of a golden wedding ring on her ring finger—the very wedding ring he slipped into her finger when they got married, he could never forget it. She still wore it after all these years, after all the things he has done to her and their family. She waited for him...

[Y/n] raises her head, her eyes tired and... Lucifer doesn't remember her eyes to be this... Sad. His heart broke into pieces. He's done this, he caused her so much pain and it changed her. Those aren't the eyes of the [Y/n] he fell in love with, [Y/n]'s eyes were so bright and hopeful before and now... It doesn't even look like it can see herself living tomorrow. It doesn't even look like she has gotten enough sleep judging by the heavy bags underneath her eyes and the dark circles around her eyes.

[Y/n] avoided Lucifer's gaze, she felt so small and weak underneath his eyes. Even after all these years he still had this much effect on her.

[Y/n] tried to focus on whatever the girl said, her ears were slightly ringing and her eyes were slightly blurring. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before slowly standing up, wobbling slightly.

Everyone noticed it, something is definitely wrong with her and it made them worry. They can notice how pale she looked and she seems to wince slightly whenever she moves.

“Are... Are you okay...?” Charlie asked worriedly, helping her up and [Y/n] smiled, though it never reached her eyes. The girl looked just exactly like Lucifer, this must be his daughter then?

“I'm just a little tired, don't worry about me.” She says weakly, patting the girl's head.

“I think I would be leaving now, we'll make sure to punish both Adam and Sera for their actions and we'll try to help hell find a better way to deal with its growing population.” She says, gently parting away from the girl's hold. Her body felt heavy and so incredibly exhausted. This is bad, she needs to get home soon.

She stumbled slightly, Lucifer's eyes widened and his body moved without thinking  and caught her effortlessly, her head pressed against his chest, [Y/n]'s eyes widened, her eyes starting to prick, no don't cry, don't cry... He felt so warm and so soft, she missed this. She weakly tries to push him away. She can still smell his signature perfume of vanilla and roses from his suit. The scent calmed her down slightly.

“Lucifer... Please don't... Please don't hold me like this... Please don't hold me like you still care...” she pleaded weakly, trying to push him away. Her arms on his chest, weakly pushing him away but the man wouldn't budge.

These two have history together... The others thought as they looked at the two angelic beings.

Lucifer's heart aches even more but refusing to let go of her and make her fall into the floor, he can tell she's incredibly exhausted by how much she's no longer trying or having the energy to stand up for herself.

“No [Y/n]... I made that mistake before and I promised not to lose you again...” he says, his voice cracking with emotions, slightly choking on his words. [Y/n]'s eyes widened at his words, her heart aching, hurting, she wants to believe his words, but the damage is not so easy to fix. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She nuzzled her head against his chest, her eyes finally rolling back as she passed out into his arms. Physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. Despite all of that, Lucifer's arms are as warm and comforting as she remembers.

Lucifer's gaze softened, he gently shifted [Y/n]'s limp body so he's now carrying her bridal style. Making sure he's not causing her even more pain.

His eyes returned back to the sinners and her daughter, they looked at him with evident confusion in their eyes. He sighs, “She's... My first wife... First ex-wife.. I don't know...” he answered pathetically to the unspoken question in the air, even he himself doesn't know what his status with her is. They never really divorced each other.

Angel Dust whistled, “Quite a dilemma you got there toots.” he snickered and Lucifer glared at him before sighing, he himself agreed to that statement, “I know...” he sighs.

“I'll just leave her somewhere safe to rest and I'll come back to help fix and tidy up this place.” Lucifer says, summoning a portal behind him and quickly stepping in with [Y/n] in his arms. The others didn't have time to protest as the portal closed before they could.

Lucifer carried her effortlessly in his arms, walking towards his bedroom—it is currently the cleanest as the other rooms were dusty from being unused.

He gently laid her down to rest on his bed, making sure she's not lying down on her hair. He was about to tuck her in when he noticed something golden seeped into her white dress, just by her waist.

His eyes widened, that's blood. Angelic blood to be specific.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She's bleeding, what the actual fuck happened to her?

He thought to himself, debating whether to rip her dress or undress her so he could treat her wound.

“Oh Satan. I shouldn't overthink this, she's in desperate need of help.” Lucifer muttered underneath his breath, hands shaking. Why wouldn't he? She's finally back in his arms and now she's wounded and bleeding and passed out to exhaustion? He's behind worried!

Think Lucifer, think.

He thought to himself before finally getting an idea. He gently wakes her up with a small nudge, causing the girl fo groan and open her eyes.

Pain, sharp pain on her side is what [Y/n] felt first when she woke up. She could see a familiar mop of light blond hair. Disoriented, her eyes blurry,  and head aching, she just groaned, “Xavier...?” she calls out, thinking it was her son.

“I'm sorry [Y/n], I'm just going to undress you and treat your wound real quick. Can I do that?” he murmured, asking for her consent. [Y/n] just nodded and groaned before passing out again.

Lucifer sighs in relief, snapping his fingers together to remove her dress and changed her into something comfortable and appropriate. A light pink satin pajamas. He lifted up her shirt and Lucifer had to cover his mouth.

So much concentrated negative energy is present on her wound, a wound that is located at the left side of her waist.

Lucifer swallows the lump of nothing in his throat, he sits on the empty spot of his bed. He'll worry later, he needs to heal her as fast as he can. Placing his hand above her wound, hovering slightly. A golden aura radiates from the palm of his hand.

No wonder she's so exhausted, it's taking so long to heal this wound. He thought, exerting more energy into healing her. His eyebrows furrowed as he maintained his concentration, making sure his power flows directly into his hand.

Slowly and surely, her wound began to close in. Lucifer could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the concentrated negative energy making the healing process much more harder.

No wonder she was so exhausted, she must've tried healing herself before coming here. He thought to himself.

With a gasped, the wound finally closed and healed itself. It felt like his life was sucked out of him after healing her.

He sighs, his eyes softening as his gaze landed on her sleeping form. She no longer had that pained expression on her face after healing her and he's glad. He's glad to be able to at least help her and not cause her pain for once. He gently lifts her hand and pressed a chaste kiss at her knuckle before bringing it back down again to her side.

He tucks her underneath the blanket, making sure she's comfortable.

He left her side once more, this time, promising that he'll be back. He just needed to help his daughter. He'll be back before she wakes up.

“Luci...? Please don't leave me again...” she whispers in her sleep, snuggling into his warm blanket. Lucifer's eyes watered, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

“I'll be back before you know it, I'll see you soon, [Y/n].” he whispers before teleporting away in specks of red and golden dust.

Meanwhile, in heaven.

“YOU LEFT MY MOTHER BEHIND?!” Xavier growled, pissed. He glares at Adam, the first man. Annoyed that the man left his mother with his father, THE MAN WHO LEFT HER FOR ANOTHER WOMAN!

“Look, your mom was clearly pissed off and I don't want to face her wrath. I can tell that that woman is holding so much anger inside her and just waiting to blow up.” Adam says nonchalantly, a sigh escaping his lips, shrugging.

Xavier wanted to rip his own hair in frustration. He is beyond worried, he just found out that his mother would be taking care whatever bullshit is happening in hell and she's been gone for hours now! Adam and the exorcists' arrived back in heaven three hours ago and there is still no sign of his mother.

He's worried, he knows his mother has just gotten out of work from the mortal realm and went straight down to hell to fix whatever damage Adam and the exorcists' did.

“Fuck this, I'm going down there and look for her.” Xavier says with a sigh, annoyed at Adam for being good for nothing.

TAGLIST I:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyreality @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

[differentsoulsweets]

Aphrodite : Introductory post

Αφροδιτη [Venus] War Goddess of Love, Beauty, and Procreation

Epithets: ⟡ Ourania - Heavenly ⟡ Pandemos - Common to All ⟡ Areia - of ares, Warlike ⟡ Hoplismene - Armed ⟡ Symmakhia - Ally (In Love) ⟡ Kypris - Of Cyprus ⟡ Philomeides - Laughter-Loving ⟡ Aphrogenia - Foam-born ⟡ Khysee - Golden ⟡ Pothon Meter - Mother of Desire

Domains: ⟡ love ⟡ Sex & procreation ⟡ Seduction ⟡ Beauty ⟡ Pleasure ⟡ War

Devotional acts: ⟡ Give compliments! ⟡ Create a skincare and bodycare routine ⟡ Collect pretty things ⟡ listen to music that makes you feel good, dance to it if you are able ⟡ have a dedicated chapstick, gloss, lip tint or lipstick!

Associations

Symbol: ⟡ Dove ; Apple ; Myrtle-wreath ; Flower

Color: ⟡ Pink ✧ Red ✧ Blue ✧ Green ✧ White ✧ Gold

Metal: ⟡ (upg) bronze

Crystals & stones: ⟡ Garnet ✧ Ruby ✧ Rose Quartz ✧ Pearls ✧ Diamond ✧ Sapphire ✧ Aquamarine

Fruits,Vegetables,Flowers,Herbs: ✧ Rose ✧ Anemone ✧ Apple ✧ Daffofil ✧ Myrtle ✧ Myrrh ✧ Lettuce ✧ Pomegranate

Animal: ✧ Hare ✧ Turtle - dove ✧ Sparrow ✧ Goose ✧ Swan

Incense: ✧ Frankincense ⟡ Rose ⟡ Myrrh ⟡ Vanilla ⟡ Cinnamon ⟡ Cypress ⟡ Jasmine

Food & Drinks: ✧ Pink ⟡ Red ⟡ Blue ⟡ Green ⟡ White ⟡ Gold

Day, Season, Time of Day: ✧ Venus ; Friday

Tarot: ✧ The Empress ✧ The Star ✧ The Lovers

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

hiii, could you write something about Tom meeting his celebrity crush ( he also maybe said it in an interview) at the Museum Gala? She is a big actress ( maybe did house of the dragon or something). She thinks he is super hot and she has seen the new hunger games movie, so she kinda flirts with him because she knows she is his celebrity crush and he is a nervous wreck. Eventually they start going out and end up dating! Just something about another British Tom manifesting his life LMAO

could you also add some insta posts ? I love this kinda of au! I hope you like this idea

lots of 💋 t!

And They Meet || Tom Blyth x actress!reader

A/n: love love this request ty anon 😙

Warnings: none!

Wc: 1,232

Dividers by @pommecita

“Do you have a celebrity crush?” The question caught Tom by surprise as he chuckles, his fingertips tapping on his chin. “I do actually, uh Y/n Y/l/n.” He admits for the first time on camera.

“I watched House of the Dragon the moment it came out and I just fell in love with how she portrayed Alicent Hightower, truly one of the greatest actresses at such a young age,” He smiles like a mad man as he recalls the time he first saw her on screen.

The gorgeous green coloured dress you would wear looked heavenly, and of course, your impeccable acting drew his attention. He binge watched the first season over and over, a smile adorning his lips everytime you would bless his screen with your beauty.

“Have you met her Tom? She’s a lovely person in real life.” The brunette sighs, “Unfortunately I have not, soon hopefully, soon,” He crosses his fingers as he lets out a low chuckle before moving on.

~

You watch with a grin on your face the interview that mentioned you. After Tom revealed that you were infact, his celebrity crush, you couldn’t help but feel like a giddy high school girl.

The thought that the Tom Blyth took a fancy towards you was mind blowing, especially since you’ve watched him from afar and admired him for quite some time now. You remember you first saw him on Billy the Kid and thought he was exceptional, and quite attractive.

“You think he would be at the museum gala next month?” You lift your head to Ally, your manager as she thinks. “Most likely, why’s that?” She smirks at you as you roll your eyes jokingly. “Nothing, nothing, just wondering,” You put your hands up in defence.

“Okay you have 10 minutes left,” Ally looks at her watch. You were at The Kelly Clarkson Show about to be interviewed about the upcoming season of the House of the Dragon.

~

“Y/n, do you have a type? If so, I think your fans would like to know, don’t you?” Kelly winks to the crowd as they erupt into laughter, including yourself. “Physical wise? Most definitely tall, brunette, blue eyes, a nice smile-“ “That sounds a whole lot familiar to a guest I just had a couple days ago….” Kelly teases as your eyes widen.

“Really?” A nervous chuckle leaves your lips, “Yeah, a Mr Tom Blyth happens to fit that description. I also know he mentioned you as his celebrity crush just the other day,” You play with the ring on your finger as you look at Kelly as if it was new news to you.

“Did he really?” You couldn’t help the smile off your face, “I watched the movie the day it came out and I understand the girlies who were rooting for Coryo,” You fan yourself jokingly, “truly understand.” The crowd cheers as you laugh. “I mean, I’m willing to ignore the red flags because he’s just so incredibly good looking!” You were lowkey fangirling.

“I know right!” Kelly agrees, “Tom did such a fantastic job playing young Snow, he really charmed us all,” You grin.

~

“Do you think she’s going to be at the gala?” Tom lifts his head up, the interview of you at The Kelly Clarkson Show displayed on his phone. “She should be,” His manager says as he smiles to himself, his eyes redirecting to his phone as you continue to talk about House of The Dragon.

Truth be told, after her let the entire world know that your his celebrity crush, he had been basking in the many comments saying how good the two of you would look together. It boosted his ego for sure.

He was hoping he’d finally be able to see you tonight at the museum gala and feed fans content. The second Tom set foot the gala, his eyes wandered around, hoping to see a glimpse of you. "Are you looking for someone Tom?" An interviewer calls out as he chuckles whilst posing for the photographers. "Yes actually," He responds with a shy smile.

Then, he hears loud screaming coming from the entrance as everyone in the gala turns their head towards the noise. And in you walked. Tom was standing in the red carpet section along with other celebrities as you walk towards his way, waving at the cameras along the way.

You wore a beautiful black gown, your hair in curls as the cascade down your back. Tom didn't even realise but he was staring at you, his mouth slightly agape, entranced by your beauty.

Cameras take photos and videos of Tom's reaction to you, it was quite cute. A man who finally got to see his celebrity crush in front of his eyes. Little did he know, you were looking around, hoping to find him.

Your eyes look around the place before you spot Tom, a few metres away from you as your eyes lit up. Abandoning your spot where you were posing for the cameras, you picked up the fabrics of your dress with the help of your assistants and made your way over to him.

It took a few seconds for Tom to realise that you were walking towards his direction. "Tom!" You greet him, going in for a hug as if you had known each other for years. He was slightly taken back but nonetheless hugs you respectfully. "How are you, darling?" He says as you pull back.

The pet name making you blush as you grin at him. You always knew Tom's eyes were blue, but jesus, you didn't realise just exactly how blue they are from up close. "I'm great now that I've finally met you," You chuckle, your hand gripping his bicep as he bites his lip lightly, smiling at you.

"Your eyes are really blue," You blurt out as he laughs, "I get that a lot," "Y/n! Tom! Can we get a picture of the two of you please?" Paparazzi calls out as you and Tom make eye contact, not realising how close your faces were before quickly looking away shyly.

"May I?" He says to you, asking if he could put his hand on your waist. What a gentleman. "Of course," You grin at him as he snakes his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip as your arm wraps around his waist.

The two of you looked good, good together. Throughout the night, you and Tom couldn't get away from each other. He was always by your side, even when you were doing interviews, and vice versa. His hand would rest on the small of your back protectively as you two navigated your way around.

Even at the dinner, he was coincidentally seated beside you which made you happy. You even recorded a video for your Instagram story about it and tagged him. The two of you hit it off straight away, exchanging numbers and even planning to meet up in a couple of days.

Being each other's celebrity crush blossomed into even more. Tom asked you to be his girlfriend after a few weeks of seeing each other and fans were going crazy, saying how he manifested it. You and Tom as a couple received so much support from everyone, including those in the acting industry saying how much of a talented young couple you were.

[themodernwitchsguide]

greek god epithets (pt.2)

this post includes hades, persephone, aphrodite, hermes, apollo, artemis, dionysus, and hekate. for part one including zeus, hera, demeter, ares, athena, poseidon and hephaestus click here

HADES:

-PLOUTON= of wealth

-THEON CHTHONIUS= god of the underworld

-POLYSEMANTOR= ruler of many

-POLYDEGMON/POLYXENUS= host of many

-NECRODEGMON= receiver of the dead

-NECRON SOTER= savior of the dead

-ADESIUS= of grace

-STYGIUS= from the Styx

-URAGUS= of fire

-NIGER DEUS= the black god

PERSEPHONE:

-CHTHONIA= of the earth

-CARPOPHORUS= bringer of fruit

-SOTEIRA= the savior

-MEGALA THEA= the great Goddess

-HAGNE= the pure/holy one

-DAEIRA= the knowing one

-PRAXIDICE= the exacter of justice

-PROTOGONE= the first born

-BRIMO= the dreaded/vengeful

APHRODITE:

-URANIA= of heavenly/divine love

-PANDEMOS= common to all people

-MACHANITIS= the diviser/contriver

-EPISTROPHIA= she who turns to love

-CALASCOPIA= the spying/all seeing

-PSITHYRISTES= the whispering

-PRAXIS= of sexual action

-MELAENIS= the black

-SYMMACHIA= the ally in love

-APATURUS= the deceptive one

-NYMPHIA= the bridal

-MIGONTIS= of unions

-DORITIS= the bountiful

-MORPHO= of shapely form

-AMBOLOGERA= the postponer of old age

-NICEPHORUS= the bringer of victory

-HOPLISMENA= the armed

-AREIA= the warlike

-EUPLOEA= of fair voyages

-PONTIA= of the sea

-LIMENIA= of the harbor

-XENIA= of hospitality to foreigners

-PHILOMIDES= the laughter loving

-APHROGENEIA/APHROGENES= the foam born

-PHILOMMEDES= the genital loving

-CHRYSEA= the golden

-DIA= the golden/shining

-POTHON MATER= the mother of desire

-EUSTEPHANUS= the richly crowned/the well girdled

-EN KIPIS= of vegetation/agricultural fertility

HERMES:

-EPIMELIUS= keeper of the flocks

-OEOPOLUS= the shepherd

-AGORAEUS= of the market place

-DOIUS= of crafts/wiles

-ENAGONIUS= of the games

-PROMACHUS= the champion

-HERMENEUTES= the interpreter/translator (of the gods)

-TRICEPHALUS= the three headed

-DIACTORUS= the guide/messenger

-ATHANATUS DIACTORUS= the immortal guide

-ANGELUS MACARON/ANGELUS ATHANATON= messenger of the divine

-CHRYSORRHAPIS= of the golden wand

-CLEPSIPHRON= the deceiver

-MECHANIOTES= the trickster/contriver

-PHELETES= the thief/robber/rustler

-ARCHUS PHELETEON= leader of robbers/thieves

-POECILOMETES/POLYTROPUS= the wily

-DAIS HETAERUS= comrade of the feast

-CHARIDOTES= giver of joy

-CHARMOPHRON= the glad-hearted

-DOTOR EAON= giver of good things

-ACACETA= the guileless/gracious

-EUSCOPUS= the keen sighted/watchful

-CYDIMUS/ERICYDES/AGLAUS= the glorious/famous/splendid

-CRATUS/CRATERUS= the strong/mighty

-POMPAEUS= the guide

APOLLO:

-THEARIUS= of the oracle

-PROUPSIUS= the foreseeing

-CLERIUS= of distribution by lot

-CLEDONES= of omens

-HECATUS= the shooter from afar/the archer

-AGRAEUS= of the hunt/the hunter

-MUSAGETES= the leader of the Muses

-ULIUS= of good health

-PAEON= the healer

-ACESIUS= of healing

-ALEXICACUS= averter of evil/harm

-EPICURIUS= the succoring/helping

-BOEDROMIUS= the rescuer

-LYCIUS= of the wolves

-SMINTHEUS= of the mice

-DELPHINIUS= of the dolphin

-ACTIUS= of the foreshore

-THEOXENIUS= the god of foreigners

-ARGYEUS= of streets/public places/entrances to homes

-VIROTUTIS= the benefactor of humanity

ARTEMIS:

-AGROTERA= of the hunt

-PHERAEA= of the beasts

-ELAPHAEA= of the deer

-DAPHNAEA= of the laurel tree

-CEDREATIS= of the cedar tree

-CARYAE/CARYATIS= of the walnut tree

-LIMNAEA/LIMNATUS= of the lake

-HELEIA= of the marshes

-EURYNOME= of broad pastures

-LYCAEA= of the wolves

-LEUCOPHRYNE= of the white (bird)

-PAEDOTROPHUS= the nurse of children

-PHILOEIRAX= the friend of young girls

-ORSILOCHIA= the helper of childbirth

-SELASPHORUS/PHOSPHORUS= the light bringer

-SOLEIRA= the saviour

-HEMERASIA= she who soothes

-HYMNIA= of the hymns

-HEGEMORE= the leader of dances/choir

-ARISTE= the best/the excellent

-EUCLEIA= of good repute

-CALLISTE= the very beautiful

-BASILEIS= the princess

-HIEREIA= the priestess

-HEURIPPA= the horse finder

-PEITHO= the persuasive

-PYRONIA= of the fire

DIONYSUS:

-BROMIUS= the noisy/boisterous

-MAENOLES= the mad/raging

-NYCTELIUS= of the night

-LAMPTERUS= of the torches

-HESTIUS= of the feast

-PHALLEN= the phallic

-ANDROGYNUS= the androgynous (of sexuality, he bed all genders)

-PHLEON= the luxuriant

-STAPHYLITES= of the grape

-OMPHACITES= of the unripe grape

-LENAEUS= of the wine press

-THEOENUS= the god of wine

-AGATHUS DAEMON= the good spirit (as in a ghost, not a drink)

-OENOPS= the wine-dark

-ACRATOPHORUS= the bringer of mixed wine

-CISSEUS= of the ivy

-CITIOPHORUS= the ivy bearer

-ANTHION= of the flowers

-CISTOPHORUS= the basket bearer

-DIMETOR= twice born

-IRAPHIOTES= the goat child

-AEGOBOLUS= the goat slayer

-MELANAEGIS= of the black goat-skin

-ANTHROPORRAESTUS= the man slayer

-LYSIUS= of release

-ELEUTHEREUS= of liberation/freedom

-PSILAX= uplifted on wings

-SAOTES/SOTERIUS= the savior

-AESYMNETES= the dictator

-POLITES= the citizen

-MYSTES= of mysteries

-CHTHONIUS= of the earth

-MELPOMENUS= the singer/of the tragic plays

HEKATE:

-BRIMO= the dreaded/the vengeful

-CHTHONIA= of the earth

-DESPOINA= the goddess/our lady

-ENODIA= of the crossroads

-AENAOS= the eternal/the ever loving

-AGLAOS= the beautiful/the bright

-APOTROPAIA= the one that protects

-EROTOTOKOS= the bringer of love

-INDALIMOS= the beautiful

-KLEIDOUCHOS= the keeper of the keys of Hades

-KOUROTRPHOS= the nurse of children

-PHOSPHOROUS/LAMPADEPHOROUS= the bringer/bearer of light

-SOTERIA= the savior

-TRIMORPHE- the three formed

-TRIODIA/TRIODITIS= she who frequents crossroads

[elf-kid2]

AU where Shen Yuan transmigrated into a denizen of the Abyss, and attempts the "Cling to the Protagonist's Thighs" survival strategy, as soon as it becomes available.

(Surviving the Endless Abyss WITHOUT a Heavenly Demon ally is HARD!!!)

From Luo Binghe's perspective, he is scamming a somewhat-helpful Demon Dude who's been living under a rock, and thinks that Luo Binghe is the kind of Heavenly Demon Royalty who, when not stranded in the Abyss, spends his time leading armies or lounging around a Palace while beautiful women feed him grapes.

What Shen Yuan might do when he finds out that Luo Binge is ACTUALLY a half-human bastard of a deposed Heavenly Demon Emperor who was sealed under a mountain nearly 2 decades ago, and thus NOT in a position the Richly Reward him for his assistance?

Well, that's a question for if/when they both make it out of the Abyss alive!

[bones4thecats]

When They Protect Their S/O From Harm

Type of Writing: #6 - Poll Result Characters: Izana Kurokawa, Kakucho, Ran Haitani, and Rindou Haitani Name: When They Protect Their S/O From Harm Original Poll Link: Here

A/N: This was fun to write, ngl!

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄��⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🎴 Izana is a possessive person by heart, since he has lost so many people in his life, he doesn't want to ever feel that same pain again, and he made that very clear the day you started your relationship

🎴 And while he does trust you with his life, he was not amused by the newest recruit of his gang

🎴 Kakucho had informed his friend that the new member was seemingly acting very out of sorts and was getting far to close to you, asking you questions that were mainly about the gang

🎴 Ever since then, he has had the Four Heavenly Kings watch over the guy, just to make sure he wasn't attempting to cross a boundary

🎴 But, when the man jumped out from the gang during a confrontation between a fairly new and dangerous one, he wasn't surprised

🎴 What did surprise him was how he was so bold with his actions, not caring who he was hitting, he even lunged and began to attack Ran and Rindou without someone beside him

🎴 He definitely had balls

🎴 Izana gritted his teeth in a smile as the numerous members fell by his hits, the only reason his smile faltered was when he saw how he lunged after you with his fist raised

🎴 His eyes darkened as he sprinted away from his intended hit and kicked the guy with full force into a nearby wall, growling lowly as he noticed a long knife, one similar to a butcher's fell from his jacket

" If you ever try harming my S/O again, I'll kill you so painfully that you'd rather have your organs torn out by a vulture's pointed beak. "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

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🍂 He trusted you with his life and his jealousy level never was sky-rocketing like his friend, Izana's

🍂 Despite that information, Kakucho was getting nervous with how a new member of Tenjiku was acting around you, and he was trying to keep it not super obvious

🍂 You were speaking to the young male near daily, and he could tell that he wanted something more than an ally or friend in you

🍂 Watching as he just wrapped an arm around your waist in a hug, he clenched his fists, providing amusement to Ran and Rindou, who were prodding at his jealousy

🍂 He could tell you were getting uncomfortable with how touchy he was with you, and he was attempting to let the guy down nicely with his words

" Excuse me, would you take a hand off my S/O. You're making them uncomfortable. "

🍂 Kakucho watched as the guy's eyes widened as the yells of Rindou's entered the base, and Kakucho knew what he was yelling, there was a rival gang invading

🍂 He glared as the man took out a blade and held it to your neck, yelling on how he was gonna slit your throat like a pig and let you die unless they let him go

🍂 Izana ran up behind Kakucho and laid a hand on his shoulder, giving him a nod as he readied himself for battle

🍂 Your boyfriend began to walk around the guy as Izana lunged, making the man holding you hostage back away and hold his blade up to attack

🍂 Thankfully, Kakucho ran around and kicked the guy from behind as Izana caught you from falling, saying how Kakucho would be back and the guy would be thoroughly punished while the rest of the gang handled his

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✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐈‍⬛ Due to his stance in many different areas of the delinquent-life, Ran has made quite a few enemies in the past few years, and he swore he would keep them far away from you

🐈‍⬛ But, Izana had banned him from trying to unleash fights inside of Tenjiku, pushing his anger to be further enlarged as he saw the guy playfully mess with you

🐈‍⬛ That was his job, not his

🐈‍⬛ As his anger grew, he could tell you were getting suspicious of the man, since his questions were drifting to more of your boyfriend and you than the gang or any upcoming fights

🐈‍⬛ When the man revealed himself to be working for a rival gang, due to the constant pressure from Hanma, you ran behind your boyfriend, to make sure the guy couldn't grab you

🐈‍⬛ But, unfortunately, while Ran was handling him, another member of the guy had snuck behind you and began to chock you out

🐈‍⬛ Turning around and not finding you standing there, dodging attacks was something that Ran did not expect, so, when he saw the guy holding you down and obviously saying things only he should be saying to you got him pissed beyond belief

🐈‍⬛ He grabbed his baton from his side and swung it so hard the guy was knocked out and bleeding from one shot and one shot alone

" Nobody touches my S/O in that way or even talks to them in that way other than me. And if anyone else has a problem with that, come at me bastards. "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐈 Rindou, much like many different characters in Tokyo Revengers, is protective over his S/O

🐈 And while he understands they can defend their-selves to a specific amount, he cannot help but think the worst of what could happen

🐈 Unfortunately, this happened because of a certain traitor in Tenjiku, and that situation ended up with one person possibly on the brink of death

🐈 Your boyfriend was arguing with his twin, which was quite common, and you just chuckled as they argued like two teenage girls, since Ran had decided to tick off Rindou for fun

🐈 He was busy dealing with Ran when Kakucho announced from the entrance to even look around for you, he expected you were ready to fight, like always

🐈 Sadly, he was completely wrong...

🐈 He had heard a loud slam and he turned around to kick someone back when he saw your body, completely unconscious with blood lightly coming out of your head

🐈 Anger consumed him as he noticed Ran launched him forward alongside him, and he understood he knew exactly what he was going to do

🐈 Ran held his baton up as Rindou pinned the guy down in a lock, his famous locking the man's joints and eventually putting enough pressure in to break his limbs while his twin began to beat him senseless with the metal poll

🐈 The man yelled in pain as Rindou let go and kicked the already broken leg of the male's deeper into the ground, and he ran to your body, carrying you in a bridal pose and brought you to a safe area

🐈 Ran could hold his ground for a little while

[faerievampling]

Letting Go

Minors, DNI

Read on AO3!

Summary: Tav and Astarion work through some trauma together. (and Astarion is slightly jealous)

pairing: Astarion x Female Tav

Warnings: 18+, blowjob. handjob. cunnilingus.

Word Count: 1.4k

Making your way into Rivington had been draining work. Your party, although still on a high from curing the Shadow curse, were disheartened by the state of the hamlet. With refugees and orphans everywhere, the attitude of the party was dejected, but you couldn't help but be thankful that you were alive.

When finally making camp after a long day of being at that horrible circus, you and Astarion set up your shared tent. Ever since Astarion and you had been learning how to be together and be intimate with each other, Astarion had gradually wanted more.

Once finally settled in, you and the rest of your party sit around the campfire recalling various events of the day. You notice your beloved is missing, but you figure he is likely out hunting.

However, you realize that your rogue is closer than you think when you feel a cool finger brush the tip of your ear. 

“I need to taste you, darling,” Astarion whispers, his lips so close to your ear it makes you shiver. His words send a wave of heat to your core. Your lover disappears into the darkness of the night, leaving you desperate for more of him. Trying to play it cool, you excuse yourself to your tent. 

And when you enter, he is there, with nothing but a blanket draped over his middle. Astarion looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves; his perfect figure is statuesque. And you aren’t sure if it’s just because you’re in love with him, or if it’s just the lighting, but his smooth, porcelain skin seems to glow amidst the dark.

He chuckles at your eagerness, and next thing you know, you’re tangled up in him, and you are his.

Your clothes come off in a flurry, strong hands gripping at your exposed body as you two join in the flesh.

You lay on your back in your tent whimpering as Astarion’s lips wrap around your swollen core. He places a hand over your mouth to stifle the noise, but continues to work on the bundle of nerves at your mound, making it even harder for you to keep quiet. 

The tip of his tongue then lingers on your folds before he buries his tongue in your entrance, making deliberate strokes inside of you. His nose is pressed to your clit as he fucks you with his sweet, practiced tongue. 

You moan his name through trembling lips, and just as the crash of an orgasm is about to descend on you, Astarion pulls away, leaving you frustrated and desperate for more.  

“You must be quiet, my sweet,” Astarion whispers against your flushed skin. “We wouldn’t want any of the others to hear…or maybe we do.” 

“The others?” You manage to stutter before he inserts his tongue into your entrance once more, causing your walls to flutter around him. 

You’re at the edge again, and as you contract and squirm around your lover's tongue, Astarion takes all of you in his mouth, lapping at your folds, clit, and entrance like a starved man. As you writhe under his kisses, you cry his name as your release takes over your whole body like a possession. 

Astarion begins to trail fervent kisses up your body, littering you with them until you are face to face.

Astarion’s lips are so soft, so pretty, and covered in your juices. As his lips find yours, his tongue kisses yours, and gods does he taste heavenly.  

“Yes, darling. Don’t act like you don’t know,” He whispers tenderly between passionate kisses. And you do  know - a new batch of allies in camp had been coming on to you lately (namely Halsin, Mizora, and the fucking Emperor), much to Astarion’s dismay. You had turned them down, of course, but that didn’t mean Astarion was any less jealous.

“But after the way I just made you cry, right in the middle of camp, everyone will know that you are mine. Not to be shared.” Beneath his teasing tone was an apparent sincerity. Astarion kisses you again, cupping your cheeks as if you were something quite precious.

You smile as you both switch positions. He brushes his soft lips against yours once more before you lower yourself between his legs. Astarion moans with anticipation as his fingertips find the root of your hair, bringing your lips to touch the head of his cock. 

Your lips wet with his precum, and Astarion moans at the sight of you on his sex. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and with a flick of your pink tongue, you lap up the rest of his juices, your tongue stroking his sensitive slit. 

Astarion’s eyes roll back before finding yours again. You wrap your lips around his tip, bobbing your head as you gradually take him deeper in your mouth. Once his tip hits the back of your throat, Astarion whimpers, and you have to keep yourself from gagging. You close your eyes to focus on pleasing him. 

You enthusiastically slide your lips up and down his shaft, twirling your tongue on his skin and focusing on the area just under the ridge of his head.

As you work to please your beloved vampire, his hand goes to your jaw, and he whispers, “Look at me,”

You know he is feeling lost in his mind, because this is always what Astarion does when he needs you to bring him back to the moment. Astarion insisted your ‘safe word’ be something that fits the moment, something normal but knowing. 

And you were more than happy to oblige.

You release your lips from him and lean over, planting a kiss on his sweet lips. “You’re here with me, Astarion.” Your voice, soft but with a hint of ferocity, has you realize just how upset you are. Upset that Astarion even feels this way; upset about his enslavement, his torture, and gods, those scars.

Feeling his discomfort from underneath you, you sit back on your heels, giving him space to bring himself to a seat.

A flicker of emotion crosses his handsome face, but you can’t decipher it. You speak slowly, “I care for you. We don’t have to do this, you know.”

Astarion’s eyes are narrowed, hungry and wanting. “But I do want you.” He responds quietly. 

“And you have me.” You smile as you begin to slip your underclothes back on, trying to maintain a facade of normalcy and be respectful of Astarion’s needs. But he stops you, and you allow your clothing to fall to the floor. 

His eyes graze over your pert nipples and gorgeous figure. You feel a bit vulnerable in the moment with such a handsome man eyeing your naked body. But you’re safe with your pale lover, and you know this, so you take a deep breath and prepare yourself to go with Astarion’s flow.

“Just…just lie down next to me, all right?” Astarion says with a rasp as he lays on his side. You slide in next to him, on your back.

Astarion puts an arm around your shoulder, supporting your neck as he cups your breast with his hand. His eyes scan you hungrily. His cock is still hard, his balls still so tight. He grasps his member in his free hand, planting a kiss on your lips as he begins to stroke himself. 

His tender kisses deepen into something more feral as his pace quickens, and he growls at the sweet taste of your lips. He’s creeping towards his climax now and the little moans that escape his lips makes your cunt quiver.

He looks so devastating in this moment, and your cunt is so wet, and you know he loves the taste of you - but you contain yourself, keeping your hands to yourself. 

Giving a final moan, Astarion spills his seed onto your stomach, his ragged breaths loud in your ear. After you have both come back to reality, Astarion finds something to clean you up with before he takes you in his arms. 

Your embrace is deep, and you’ve never felt safer than with his strong arms around you. You nuzzle your face into his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head as you both begin to drift off.

Astarion needs a lot of patience, care, and love, and you are more than ready and willing to provide. Your last thoughts are of the future, and what it may hold for you and your lover.

Masterlist

[projectionistwrites]

moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

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

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

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

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

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

imploding the mirage — the killers

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

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

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

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

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

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

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

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

“Jesus Christ!”

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

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

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

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

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

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

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned.

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

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course Steven made you.”

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

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

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

“Do you mind if I—”

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

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

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

“Fuck, Marc.”

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

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

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

“Shit, I—sorry.”

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

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

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

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

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

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

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

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to tell them?”

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

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

“No.”

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

“What?”

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

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why won’t you tell me?”

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

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

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

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

“But what about how you feel?”

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

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

Anger flared within you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

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

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

“What if he breaks my heart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“G’mornin’, darling.”

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

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“G’mornin’, darling.”

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

“Steven! Shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Thanks.”

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

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

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

“There we are—good as new.”

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

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

“Bon apétit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

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

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

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

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

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

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

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

She’s lying.

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

And how do you know that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if this was from his latest mission?

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

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

“Where is it?”

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

“I told you. I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I just wasn’t alone.”

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

“Looking for this?”

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

“Marc. I mean it.”

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

“Yeah, I know.”

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

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

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

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

“Wake up, little star.”

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

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

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

“Wake up!”

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

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

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

“Marc?”

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

“Drink.”

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

“I—what happened?”

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

“What do you remember?”

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

“Was I kidnapped?”

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

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

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

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

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

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

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

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

“Stop!”

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

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

“You don’t think I know that?”

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

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

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

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

“What did you just say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

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

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

“See you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—what?”

“I—”

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

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

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

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

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

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

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

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

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

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

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

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

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

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

Marc’s brows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

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

“It’s just not true.”

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

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

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

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

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

“Sorry.”

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

“What were you thinking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait—wait.”

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

“I just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

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

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

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

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

“You want my cum, baby?”

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

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

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

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

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

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Told you so.”

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

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

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

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

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

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

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

“And you called me estrellita.”

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

“Estrellita?”

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

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

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

“What? What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

“He fucking what?”

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

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

[theamberfist]

Like Father, Like Child | Part 2 | Alastor + Exorcist! Reader

Familial! Alastor + Exorcist! Adopted Child! Reader

Description: The battle between heaven's exorcists and the Hazbin Hotel rages on, but when Adam catches wind of your secret past, a difficult choice is forced upon you.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of murder, fallen angels) (gender neutral reader) (reader is Alastor's adopted child from when they were alive) (Part 2/4 of Like Father, Like Child)

Read Part 1 here

Words: 3,351

"Jez!" A voice called from behind you and you immediately turned around, seeing one of your fellow exorcists about to fall at the hands of more cannibalistic demons. Snapping out of the trance you'd been placed in upon seeing your father again, you immediately rushed over to assist her. Luckily, it seemed Alastor really did have no interest in attacking his own child, allowing you to focus on helping your ally.

You had always been one of Adam's best exorcists. After Vaggie had left, it paved the way for you to rise in their ranks and prove yourself. Aside from Lute, there were few other angels that had killed as many sinners as you; for better or worse.

So of course, you had no trouble freeing your sister-in-arms from her predicament and then rushing into the ever-raging crowd of cannibals; thinning them out.

As you fought, though, you kept feeling as if there were eyes on you; like you were being watched. It was a bit unsettling, especially because you knew exactly whom it was that kept looking your way despite being faced with Adam himself.

'Mind your own business, dad...' You thought to yourself as you stabbed your spear through the body of yet another angel. Though, you'd been having to hold your own self back from glancing up at him this whole time, too. After all, this was the first time you two had reunited in many, many years. Could one have blamed you for being curious about what had become of the man that once raised you, even after all the horrible things he'd done?

Finally, you allowed yourself to spare a look at the roof nearby, where Adam and Alastor were engaged in a fight. For the first little while, you actually couldn't tell which of them would win between Adam's heavenly power and your dad's shadowy magic.

But as the fighting continued, the outcome started to get more apparent. Adam was strong, and unlike your dad, he wielded angelic weapons.

Several times during their fight, you also found yourself in slightly stickier situations due to being so distracted, only for an odd black tentacle-like thing to shoot up from the ground and block whatever attack a sinner might be preparing towards you. It was disorienting, as you were fairly certain those same tentacle-things had just been fighting on the side of those sinners just moments earlier.

Eventually, there was a huge blast of angelic power from the roof of the building and the once radio-static voice of your father now sounded completely normal as he cursed at Adam. It reminded you of the way he'd sounded while alive; almost making tears prick in your eyes.

For a split second, it almost felt like you'd been taken back to that time; when things were simpler and it was just you and your dad living happily in New Orleans. But of course, this was a very different situation. You were reminded of that once Adam called out.

"Jez, get the fuck up here!" He shouted from the roof. You gulped, feeling almost like a kid that had been called to the principle's office, but spread your wings and flew up to the top of the building anyway.

On the way, you caught a glimpse of one sinner in particular that looked familiar to you. With an 'X' over her eye and a big red bow in her long hair, she could almost have been the spitting image of Vaggie.

Could this have been where she ended up?

Could this be where you would end up, now that Adam seemed to be aware of who you were?

You pushed the thought out of your mind as you landed on the rooftop now, looking over at your boss and completely ignoring the sight of your dad laying against the nearby wall; as if he'd been slammed into it.

"Yes, sir?" You asked, appearing as calm and unbothered as you could have been when faced with your dad like this. Adam's eyes narrowed but then he put on a fake smile of his own.

"Great, now that everybody's here, Jez, meet the Radio Demon!" He exclaimed, pointing to Alastor, who's eyes were narrowed into a glare despite the supposed grin on his face. "Oh, wait, you've already fucking met!" You tensed when the angel's tone got more angry but kept your composure, nonetheless.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir." You replied, careful not to even look at Alastor for fear of giving yourself away. Luckily, he said nothing either; likely still shocked from both seeing you after so long and being so injured by the first man.

"Oh, ya don't, do you?" Adam replied as he crossed his arms over his chest and wore an expression of disbelief. You shook your head but that didn't seemed to be enough for the leader of the exorcists. "Well, if you really don't know the asshole, then I'm sure you'll have no problem finishing him off for me." Your breath hitched.

Adam had to already know about your relation to Alastor, but how had he figured it out? You hadn't told anyone during the entire time you'd been dead, and yet the first time you saw him again, you'd been discovered for who you really were?

Then you thought back to when you'd been fighting earlier; how Alastor's powers had seemed to protect you from even the ones that were supposed to be on his own side. It seemed the man still hadn't been able to stop looking out for you; even after both of you had died. And because of that, he'd likely been even more distracted when fighting Adam, which the angel had caught on to.

Sometimes you really forgot the first man had a brain.

"Alright." You whispered finally, unsure of what else to do. You knew what would happen if you defied Adam; it was likely the same thing that had once happened to Vaggie! But as you turned to look at your dad now, still slumped against the wall, you already knew you wouldn't be able to go through with this.

He may have harmed and killed so many, but he was still your father. He'd still raised you; been loving and caring throughout your entire childhood. You couldn't help but view him as your dad, even after everything.

Plus, there was a deeper part of you that knew you two were one in the same. Just because you hadn't acted on your murderous tendencies in life didn't automatically make you better; especially when you'd gone on to kill so many sinners as an angel in death. It didn't matter if that was what heaven had commanded you to do; you were still a murderer in your own right.

So as you went to take a step towards your dad, angelic spear raised and ready, you already knew you wouldn't be able to go through with it. He seemed to realize it too, because as he pushed himself into a sitting position against the partially destroyed wall, there was a hint of pride in his eyes. He knew his own kid; knew that you'd sooner betray heaven than your only family.

"S-sir," you said, turning back to Adam now, "Are you sure you want me to be the one to-"

"Yes." The angel replied before you could even finish, "Now, get on with it! We have more little bitches to slaughter." So much for making up an excuse not to do this, you supposed.

As you turned back to Alastor, you attempted to keep your body from shaking. With fear, regret, or sadness? You weren't sure, but whatever it was, it was enough to stop you once you were within stabbing-distance of the Radio Demon.

"What's wrong?" Adam asked from behind you; his tone telling you he very much enjoyed the entertainment the situation was bringing, "Too scared to kill off your old man?"

So he did know. Your eyes narrowed, still facing away from the angel, but now that that revelation had come to pass, even when you'd suspected it already, you felt a bit of anger boil up inside you. He was doing this purely for entertainment; using you to make the extermination more fun for him. And you decided now that you weren't having it.

So, to everyone's surprise including your own, you turned around and hurled your spear directly at his face. No matter how murderous you'd felt in the past, you couldn't bring yourself to kill your own father, and it pissed you off that he would even try to make it happen.

"Do it yourself!" You shouted. He took a step to the side so the spear missed his head by a long shot but it had been enough to get your point across.

Adam's eyes narrowed and now you knew there was no going back.

..........

Technically, Alastor had never wanted kids to begin with. As entertaining as they were, he found them to be more responsibility than they were ultimately worth.

However, the people around him seemed to consider them a positive thing; almost a necessity, when it came to human life. There was so much emphasis on that picture perfect family everyone seemed to have; a wife, children, a beautiful home.

...To the point where it was considered odd not to have or want those things in some degree.

Alastor had always known his favorite 'pastimes' were considered unacceptable to the rest of society. That was why he'd gotten so good at hiding it; whether through his smile, his charm, or the rest of his meticulously planned out actions. He always took much care in making sure no one suspected him of being different or 'odd.'

Which was why it irked him once people began questioning his wants in life. "When are you going to settle down?" They would ask, "ever thought about having kids of your own?"

"It's odd to be so happy yet so alone at your age. Perhaps meeting a beautiful woman would do you some good."

Every comment increased his anger, having never felt the need for such aspects of life, but he knew it meant people had started to see him as odd; that he stood out from the persona he so desperately tried to make blend in with the rest of society.

He needed a way to reassure them all that he was 'normal' if he wanted to continue keeping the suspicion off of him. And since he could never bring himself to marry or be romantically involved with another, it had seemed he only had one other option.

Which was how he eventually found himself visiting the adoption agency just a few blocks from his home. Keeping up his cheerful and charming act had been more difficult than ever, considering he'd never wanted to be doing this, but it was necessary, and the very next day, he walked out with the first child he'd found there.

You.

He didn't know where you'd come from before he took you in and, frankly, he didn't care. You were just a way for him to keep the suspicion off himself; a means to continue his 'activities' uninterrupted.

And at first, he only did the bare minimum as your parent. You'd been five when he took you in, which he'd deemed was old enough to be left to your own devices most of the time. He provided you with food, water, clothing, and a space to live in, but that was it. For the first year since he took you in, the only 'fatherly affection' you ever received had come while you were out in public and he'd needed to make sure people questioned nothing. Beyond that, he was just a person that lived in your house.

Alastor wasn't sure when that dynamic had changed, nor what had made it do so. One day, he'd felt nothing other than basic responsibility towards you, and then the next, it had seemed your young self had him wrapped around your little finger.

He pulled back at first, not wanting to become attached to the kid he saw as nothing more than a tool to continue his murders, but in time, he came to accept it. Even if he hadn't wanted a child of his own at first, it had seemed that was what he'd gotten when he signed up to take care of you.

Somewhere down the line, you became his, and by then, there was no going back.

..........

"What the fuck did you say, you little bitch?!" Adam demanded as he stood up tall, seeming to grow in size now. He came towards you but you stood your ground between him and your dad despite the fear.

"I said I'm not doing it." You replied firmly. It was a miracle your voice wasn't shaking right now with how much fear you felt. "I'm not going to kill my dad for you."

"So you really are that cunt's kid," Adam hissed, "No wonder you were one of my best exorcists; being the child of a serial killer." Then something in his demeanor shifted. "Why the fuck do all my best people turn out to be traitors?" You knew he was referring to Vaggie, which made your blood boil even more.

"At least I'm not too much of a coward to kill a demon myself." You spat. A second later, there was a stinging on your cheek as Adam slapped you; making you fall to the ground with a cry.

"Don't act like you're any better than me!" Adam cried, clearly upset now, "You've killed just as many of these little vermin as I have."

"I have," you agreed, staring him down despite still laying on the ground, "But not anymore." You reached down into your right boot now, pulling out an angelic dagger you always had stashed on your person and launching it at your boss.

This time, it hit, landing in Adam's leg as he cried out in pain; golden blood dripping down his clothes. "You bitch." He spat before taking out his own weapon and slashing at your left eye with it. You screamed in pain, feeling your own blood run down your face. Had this happen to Vaggie too, when she'd fallen?

Wait, were you falling? Was that what this was?

In both your pain and confusion, you didn't notice the familiar black tentacles that rose from the ground now and started attacking Adam, despite Alastor's weakened state. The angel grunted in annoyance more than anything as he slashed through them with his angelic weapon before finally turning back to you.

Off to the side, Alastor seemed both more furious and more exhausted from the brief exchange.

"Someone like you doesn't belong in heaven." Adam spat as he stood over you now. You tried to get out of his way but between your pain and bleeding, it was no use. "You wanna be with your old man so bad? Fine, then enjoy hell, bitch!" And with that, he reached down, grabbing your wings between his hands and pulling so hard that you felt them rip right off your back.

The pain was immeasurable and you screamed in agony; blood now shooting out from the two holes in your back. You'd never thought you would be falling from heaven like this, but now that you were, it was as if everything you once had was being ripped from your hands.

You felt Adam preparing to stab you again and immediately rolled out of the way, crying out when the ground made contact with your now-exposed wounds. Behind you, Alastor was seething and your angel boss only seemed to revel in it more.

"I should have done away with all of you sinners a long time ago," he said finally as he grabbed you by the collar and lifted you from the ground, "starting with you, Jez. Then I'll kill your old man and every other demon here!"

"That's not my name!" You managed to shout, sounding strangled due to Adam's harsh grip on the collar of your clothes. It was something you'd been keeping in for a long time now, and since it seemed like you were about to fall from heaven, now felt like a good time to let it out.

Adam's eyes narrowed at that and then he tossed you to the side, causing you to collide with the very same wall your dad was currently leaning against. Luckily, you didn't hit Alastor but the impact of the wall against your head was enough to finally knock you out. You really weren't used to actually being injured as an exorcist and before today, hadn't even been aware demons could hurt angels at all.

Despite his own injuries, Alastor managed to stand and take a few steps over so that he was now between you and Adam, who scoffed.

"Really, you're gonna protect them now, old man?" He asked with a condescending tone, "Didn't I tell you radio's fucking dead?!" He slashed at Alastor, who managed to block the attack with a small shield that then immediately dispersed.

"Radio's not dead," Alastor replied as he let his shadow grow behind him, panting heavily, "but it is ending this broadcast!" And with that, both you and him melted away into the shadows where Adam couldn't reach.

The Angel in question let out a grunt of frustration before turning to join the rest of the battle. He'd have the chance to deal with you later, he decided. For now, you and your pathetic father had already taken too much of his time.

..........

Both you and Alastor reappeared inside his radio tower, which was in rough shape but otherwise unaffected by the battle outside. You were still unconscious and his shadow gently laid you on whatever soft things it could find; consisting of a small pile of pillows and fluff.

Your face and back were completely covered in your golden angelic blood but otherwise, you seemed relatively alright, which Alastor was thankful for.

Rage enveloped him once again as he thought back to how he'd not only lost the fight against Adam but also been forced to watch his own child be harmed by the first man after not seeing you for so many years. The fact that Adam had even laid a hand on his kid made his blood boil and he swore that if Charlie and the others didn't take care of Adam, he would.

Your dad's shadow provided some basic first aid to you as you slept, though it turned out to be rather fortunate that you weren't awake to witness the Radio Demon's temporary slip of composure. He resolved to have revenge on heaven for what had happened today, as soon as his own deal was broken, that was.

Finally, Alastor sunk into a seat near the radio tower's control panel before glancing back at you. He didn't even need to verbally ask his shadow what it was thinking; instead it seemed to just know as it gently plucked you from the ground and brought your now-bandaged body to him.

Feeling some of his anger melt away at the sight of you, he reached out and pulled you away from the shadow and into his arms, hugging you the way he had many times in life. 

The shadow melted away again as Alastor seemed to relax slightly. "There, there..." He whispered to you, who was still asleep, "It's going to be alright, darling. Nothing else will hurt you." And he meant that.

Alastor may not have been able to protect you from Adam before, but he would not fail again. He would do everything in his power to ensure this incident never repeated; especially now that you were here with him in hell, where he actually could protect you. 

He looked out the window to see the rest of the angels now flying off back to heaven since the battle seemed to have ended. They were leaving you behind as if it was nothing, but that wouldn't matter anymore. They weren't your family; they never had been. He was always your family, and he would never let harm come to you again.

No matter what.

……….

Part 3

Part 4