#mock mirage

[aikoiya]

DP HC - The Green Flash

At sunset, the sky sometimes lights up green. This is often called the Green Flash, Green Ray, the Mock Mirage, or M-Mir.

Scientifically speaking this flash is "as the sun sinks its rays start to pass through the temperature inversion. The action of the inversion is most easily understood by concentrating on the interface between the warmer layer and the cool more dense air beneath. Rays passing downwards through it are refracted so that they curve slightly towards the earth. The upper parallel sun ray glances through the inversion and is most strongly curved. To the eye, the ray appears to be coming from a point higher in the sky and it contributes to an upper (and inverted) image of the sun. The lower parallel ray is less deflected and contributes to a lower solar image. In a direction tangential to the base of the inversion layer small vertical differences in ray directions are highly magnified. The normally insignificant green rim of the sun is vertically stretched to produce a green flash."

But mythologically, it's said that this happens when a soul returns to Earth from the afterlife.

The truth is that the Green Flash takes place whenever the mnemonic imprint of a spirit from Earth journeying through the Infinite Realms erodes completely. At which point, they disappear from the IR & reappear back on Earth to be reincarnated as someone new.

This always happens at sundown & is usually due to a large number of souls returning at once. The reason why it's green is due to the burst of ectoplasmic energy that takes place when the unbound souls shift from one universe to another.

No one in the Living Realms knows why it has to happen like this, but when a soul is ready to reincarnate, it disappears, but doesn't immediately reappear in it's home universe. You see, it takes a lot of energy to breach the barrier between universes, so many reincarnating souls must gather, it's suspected in some form of pocket universe, & their soul magic, blue magic specifically which is associated with spacial/gravity magics & teleportation, builds up more & more until, with an ectoplasmic boost, there's enough to carry them all back.

No one knows, specifically, why reincarnating souls only return at sundown.

The truth of the matter is that rebirth deities such as Zagreus gather these souls & use soul magic to take them back to the Living Realms. This sudden appearance creates a great flash of green light in the sky due to the ectoplasm released in the area.

If you want to see my full Ghost Zone Masterlist, go here. You can find out more about ghosts & the reincarnation process from "Explaining the Ghost Zone," watch out, it's a long post.

[ophierian-vp]

[jtownraindancer]

called burn gorman "asorbable" instead of "adorable" in chat with @themirage-prismatic so pretty sure it's time for bed now🙃

[nicdevera]

Drone flying over Shanghai tells residents on balconies to comply with Covid lockdown | News | Independent TV

https://www.independent.co.uk/tv/news/shanghai-china-covid-lockdown-drone-b2055301.html

In footage shared on social media, a drone can be seen urging residents to return inside, saying: “Please comply with Covid restrictions. Control your soul’s desire for freedom. Do not open the window or sing.”

"control your soul's desire for freedom" is an amazingly chilling phrase, goes up there with arbeit macht frei. amusingly, googling the phrase brings up a lot of pop-stoicism.

[roxsas]

got paid so two new dollies for me 🥰

[statistics-yuh]

One of the hardest hitting things about aftg for me is how it talks about its mirage of horrible crimes occurring, specifically when it comes to Andrew.

Like at thanksgiving, Neil never once says the word rape. He brutally describes the scene in front of him but he never outright says what it was. Hell, I don’t think the word rape was ever once used in these books, yet it is consistently alluded to in various different ways.

When talking about Drake, Andrew (and the fandom) constantly use phrases like “a matched set” and words like “misunderstanding”, to describe something absolutely horrific. Using these words instead of labeling what is actually happening makes you 10x more sick to your stomach.

Andrew saying something like “he wanted to rape me and my twin brother” is fucking insane and it makes your jaw drop and ur stomach twist. But him saying “he wanted a matched set” is somehow just SOOO much more violent to read.

It’s like these phrasings simplify or almost mock what’s actually happening, playing down the severity of it so that the contrast makes it so much worse. 

Anyway Nora you’re a genius how dare you.

[amvipod]

I FELL IN LOVE WITH THE RIGHT HAND OF THE FATHER?! ✨

people really like the ultrakill posting so here’s some things i was probably not gonna finish…? a wip painting of the mannequins and a mock sprite sheet for cheesy visual novel gabe (a la mirage). idk toss me a few dollars on kofi if you really want gabe screaming sprite to be real i guess

[anantaru]

DAY 19 — EDGING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — zhongli, xiao, ayato

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, edging & orgasm denial, nipple play, praise kink, oral (male! receiving), petnames used: good girl & baby, dom/sub dynamics

𖧡 — ZHONGLI

patience and thoroughness, two cardinal commodities that zhongli had, without fail, used as a well fortified hold in an abundance of undertakings in his long life.

keen to obey, you immediately open your arms for him, afterwards wrapping them around his head as zhongli's warm lips patiently ghost over your chest before hovering his tongue to study the shape of your beautiful breasts, his teeth lightly taking notes of the pulsing perception on your erected nipples before concealing them with his mouth.

although in spite of that, your momentary flash of excitement to experience some sort of pleasure had soon fled a few breaths later, when zhongli abruptly pulled his mouth off your chest, licking at his wet lips before drawing himself back to brush gentle kisses all over the wet splotches on your skin— and at the start, you believed that there wasn't anything ulterior going on and that zhongli wouldn't make you suffer in such ways, yet, thinking back at it now, on how gullible you were to believe that truly only amplified the paining pleasure and yearning in you more.

soon enough, he showed you the fruits of his ministrations when you're writhing underneath his warm figure— your thighs plastered with an abundance of your arousal sticking and soiling the linen beneath you with his seedy cock messy and oozing of pre.

"you trust me, don't you?" he whispers over your lips as your hearts thud in sync with your chests pressed together, a mirage of heavy pants and whiny hiccups gradually inhaled by each other as his erection slips and prances through your quivering pussy, easing his tip as deep as it could go in as you squeeze around his girth.

"of- of course," you mewl back weakly, "but please— just once, baby, just once," and you haven't been this sensitive in ages it's almost embarrassing, harboring the weight of his well above average length swelling around the margins of your ribbed walls stole all sense of self control inside you.

but zhongli, oh how much he was enjoying this, stills his hips once again, robbing you of yet another orgasm as his hand slowly looms over to cup your cheek before exploring your face— unhurriedly tracing over to your puckered up lips, silently brushing against your brow, noticing the immediate love and how you practically melt into his palm.

fuck, you're so beautiful when you're frustrated, that much he was clear on, there was nothing more bewitching then your naked frame quivering and yearning to climax, or when you suddenly begged him for it, even when he repeatedly tells you to be patient, his cock remained crowded inside and pulsing against your creamy walls as he taps one finger above your mouth.

unhesitating, your jaw falls open to welcome two long, slender fingers slipping into the swelling of your warmth, letting zhongli's digits spread over and rub across your tongue before pressing down— for some reason, the way zhongli was watching you eagerly through golden eyes, admiring you and focusing on your face, was a bigger turn on than you originally expected and there's a fetching, delicious burn buzzing over your lower region as his girth moves again, harshly thrusting back to pick up on where he left off.

undoubtedly, he'll take his precious time to examine the rest of you— after all, rushed studies breed lousy results— and morax wanted to inspect you entirely, almost possessively, so he'd always know which buttons he had to push on you.

𖧡 — XIAO

"i know baby, i know," you coo out before hitching your hands into the sides on xiao's hips while perfectly slotted in between his thighs, mocking the very sentence he always seemed to mutter whenever it was him who was pleasuring you that night.

while now, it's a certainly contrasting picture when you slurp up his creamy cum that splattered all over your tongue and lips, cheeks and chin, drinking it up before spilling a little on top of his shaft, eagerly smearing the mixture of spit and seed on top of his semi erect cock before palming his balls, practically starving with his pants remaining bunched up around his ankles.

you just love having him deep inside your mouth, rob an orgasm off him before giving him one to salivate on, his length throbbing and thudding over your pink muscle while you're fluttering your lashes up at xiao, so you could watch how he was silently succumbing into nothing but your warmness engulfing his most sensitive part and your throat feeling like a soft wet vice, showing no signs of gagging when you let him slowly thrust into it.

you begin to curl your hand over his balls before applying a gentle pressure that made him jolt up from his chair, his breath quickening as he hardens entirely under your tongue— xiao couldn't figure out if you're going to allow him to cum again or if you're going to rob him, edge him on and delay his delicious, although slightly painful orgasm from how unbelievably reactive and sensitive he had gotten all because of you having a little too much fun tonight.

"don't—," he grunts, his sweaty chest glowing under the dimly rid room as he watches how you're tilting your head, his cock head squished into your cheeks so he'd see the silhouette of it, "i'm so close.. ’so close,"

it's too much sensation at once thrown at him, but xiao braces himself, each hand resting into the arm chair before digging his nails into the leather, because in truth, he doesn't want this to end and hoped he'd ve able to survive your unforgiving pace.

you lift your eyes back up at him and his flustered expression prances above you like the sweetest eye candy, a moan uttering from your lips as it quivers over his shaft until reaching his base— soon after, xiao cums again, much faster and sooner, his cum warm, thick and heavy inside your mouth as he turns in his chair just slightly, shivering all over and looking down at the mess in between his thighs where he met your hungry gaze instantly, your tongue leisurely trailing over his tip like you haven't coaxed out yet another orgasm out of the man— the mere sight of you sinful, your chin plastered all over with his salty whites and your tongue dripping of it.

but it's still not enough, xiao fears, not when he feels you palm his shaft again.

𖧡 — AYATO

despite ayato's long-lasting pursuit of bringing you to the edge enough times that you had honestly lost count, the satisfaction in his voice, brushed together with small praises consisting of, "you're such a good girl to me," and "you always handle me so well," only made you crave it more, crave him more, whilst being tied down by your wrists hovering above your head, a small cloth tightly attaching you to the headboard.

all too soon, you notice that ayato's restless thrusts and fondles with your body turned all the more sloppy in their ministrations— the soft, insistent brush of his slender fingers sliding over your erected nipples drawing an overflow of convulses on your fluttering pussy before he moves his restless cock again, collapsing his entire weight into your frame while you're too sensitive to even voice anything, your heart hammering fast and blenching over your ears as your legs shut around his hips, the weight of his cock nestled hard inside your slickness.

more than the absent sounds of your needs— despite a couple broken hitches and pitchy begs, ayato continued to thrust into your spongy walls, letting transparent desire become visible in his glimmering gaze as he raises your hips up by himself, so he could easily lunge you back and forth, back and forth, with a deep strike of both pleasure and pain clustering your overflowing keenness, his cock head repeatedly touching the ache that coiled around your sweet spots, sharpening the edge of your orgasm

and yet, ayato ponders, the thought of gripping your hips as you took him so perfectly, the desperate sounds you would exhale together with the wet smacks of skin on skin resounding over your ears— the taste of your beauty, made the yashiro commissioner shiver fathomlessly, realizing that he could not deny your orgasm for as much as he wanted, or was able to, without also denying his own before he bites down on his tongue in pain, sweat bedding above his brow bone as he drags his seedy cock along the spots of your walls before making you both experience it. 

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[dancewithdeath11]

Damnation

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller knew he was damned, why would a pretty thing like you be with a man like him anyways?

Warnings: Smut 18+, lowkey religious undertones (talks of damnation, sin, using god's name in vain (lol)), just fuckin’, not too dirty, more like poetic smut? Love dirty old man poety rizz, fem-anatomy, unprotected sex, use of pull out method 

Wordcount: 1.5K

======

Breathing never sounded so loud. So frantic. Steeped in carnal lust and punctuated by growling grunts. 

He knew. He knew it deep down. Knew this was something bad. Something that shouldn’t happen. Something that would spell out going to hell together hand in hand by the mock of the angels. 

But something like this was worth the damnation. 

It made sense that sins like this were associated with hell. It’s hot, his greedy hands wandering across the sweltering expanses of your skin. The choked moans against one another's lips. Half hooded eyes of a man almost twice your age taking it all in.

How your innocent, ditsy fucking haltertop was bunching around your waist from when he untied it from the pretty bow that you had it in. Although, his hands were shoving the pathetic excuse for clothing back up. It got trapped under your tits, unintentionally, all so he could dig his worn fingers into your supple waist. His jeans were pushed down just enough, your shorts on the ground somewhere. It was almost unfair how you were left so exposed while he was almost fully dressed. 

Joel Miller knew from the second you came up to him that he was screwed. 

At first he thought it was a delusion. Seeing something that wasn’t there. A mirage of an oasis out in the desert that he wanted nothing more than to drown in. In what world would he guess your silent infatuation? Occasionally catching your gaze at the Tipsy Bison or around town. Of course, Joel would spare a small smile for a pretty thing like you. You would return it, beaming at him from where you were, lifting a hand to waggle your fingers at him. 

But he was knocked out when you came up to him for the first time. Your charm broke him quicker than he’d like to admit. After that you were a pleasurable constant in his life. The two of you run into each other quite often. Either quick hellos or long talks. His eyes were fixed on you and only you. 

He couldn’t, shouldn’t.. He swore to himself he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t tarnish you like that. Touch you with his bloodied hands that had taken too many lives. They were permanently stained, a fixed reminder. That should’ve been all it took. No way could Joel Miller do anything with someone pure like you. He was a sinner. 

But oh..

When you came up to him. Sweet you asked for help. How could he deny? 

More importantly, how could he foresee the future? How would he know that you’d pout up at him with the same kissable lips he knew spoke prayers in that house of worship they had in Jackson. He knew you went every Sunday. Was he supposed to know what to do when you flirted shyly, smiling and batting your eyelashes? What about when you grabbed his tainted hand with your soft one? 

Joel was just a man. A weak sinful man who hasn’t touched a woman in years and now here he is. With you. 

He told himself. Just one kiss couldn’t hurt..

But after he had a taste, it was too much. He was diving right into the mirage of water. Drowning in you. Entirely and wholly. 

You’d moan, it was a saccharine sound. Deep and raw like fresh honey, “Oh God..” 

“Takin’ the lord’s name in vain, honey?” Joel chuckled, but it turned into a groan as he felt you clench at his chastising tone. Your nose scrunched in a way that Joel quickly came to love. Face pinched in pleasure as you struggled to keep your eyes open, occasionally slipping up and closing them. But you would open them back up just as quickly. 

Joel watched as you panted and squirmed beneath him, hair fanned out like a halo around you on the rug. “S-Shut-” You didn’t even get to finish before you interrupted yourself with a moan. 

You let out a low whine of frustration as you reached back behind you and grabbed at a fallen pillow. A reminder to Joel of how bad he was. Taking you on the couch like a desperate teenager at first, but when switching around the two of you ended up on the ground. A well loved rug scratching at your bare back, the hard floor making his knees hurt. 

Everything felt rough though. The rough scratch of Joel’s beard as he shoved his face into your neck. Kissing over the sweaty skin and marking you with purpose. Sloppy wet open mouth kisses that makes you tilt your head back and to the side to give him more access. Dirty girl.. Sinful. 

Joel’s rough thrusting was practically sending you up the wall. The head of his cock knocking something deep inside you. That something had you arching under him. Frantically reaching for a different kind of purchase every time, unable to decide where you should put your hands through the haze of lust. But at the same time he was sending you away, he’d drag you back with a tug to your waist.

Joel grunted as he looked down at you. Watching as your face screwed up in pleasure. The flush that covered your cheeks and spread down to your chest where your tits were slick with sweat and littered with hickeys. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth with want, but again, Joel was a weak man. 

He took your nipple in his mouth, nipping at the hard bud before laving over it with his tongue. His other hand skates up your side to give your other breast attention. Pinching and tugging your nipple, twisting it till you let out a whimper of pleasure. Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging just as greedily as he had been grabbing at you before. It’s all his fault. You’re tarnished. Greedy, lustful, desperation showing through with the way you bucked your hips against his and held his head in place from where he had his mouth on your breast. Breathless moans leaving your lips as he scraped his teeth over the plush skin. 

“Joel-” It was a weak call, pitched in a vaguely familiar way. But he could tell why you were calling to him. 

He could feel it all in the way that you were rolling your hips back against his a little weaker than before. You were clenching his dick in a way that had him grabbing your waist a little tighter. The erotic sound of your moans filled the room. Accompanied by the dirty wet slapping of skin on skin from where your slick coated the inside of your thighs. “Shit, sweetheart, ya sound like a goddamn pornstar..” He entertained himself with a smirk, then pressed another kiss to your sternum. 

Idly thinking of you in one of those dirty old films. Maybe he could find a camera, make a little home film of the two of you.. Joel cursed the thought because of how much he liked it. 

“What’s that?” 

Another fucking reminder of how much younger you are than him. 

He elects to ignore your question rather than explaining it, baring his teeth as he sucked in a sharp breath. You open your mouth to ask him again, but he shuts it down as he begins to thumb over your clit. Fingers splaying across your mound as he swipes his thumb over the too sensitive bundle of nerves. 

A broken cry leaves your lips. He leans up to be face to face with you. Wide innocent eyes meeting his, tears just balancing on your lash line. Joel cooed at you, “You close, baby?” He slowed the rocking of his hips, instead focusing on thrusting harder. Shoving his cock back into your dripping abused pussy like he was mad at you. 

Tears streaked into your hairline. A quick nod followed by a weak uh-huh, that was overtaken by a moan. It didn’t take long.. One, two, three good thrusts later and your legs were trembling as they tightened around Joel’s waist. You tenses and looked about ready to fold in on yourself as you cried out like a woman possessed. “Shit- fuck, joel! Oh Joel-” it was a hiccuping kind of cry. Your hands finding his biceps and nails biting into his skin as he sped up again. Searching for his own release. Getting off on how much slicker you got as your tight cunt spasmed and clenched around is cock. 

“I know, baby, I know..” He gritted out. Pinching his eyes shut as he tried to find some kind of self control. Hissing as he dropped his head, chin to chest as he pulled out and fisted his cock. Shooting his spend all over your throbbing pussy and stomach. “Fuck…” He sighed and opened his eyes again. 

There you were, taking quick shallow breaths as you looked at his cum pooling on your skin. And he watched as you took your delicate finger and swiped it up, bringing it up to your mouth. A flash of pink as your tongue darted out to lick it. Then you sucked your finger into your mouth, licking it clean as you finally made eye contact with him. 

You pulled your finger from your mouth with a pop, smiling up at him innocently, “Can we..do it again? Please, Joel?” It was innocent. You were innocent. But how could he not? Especially when you asked him so nicely. 

He licked his lips. 

Oh, he’s going to hell…

======

[areislol]

‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfox's devotion

pairings. m!kitsune x gn! reader

warnings. slight yandere tendecies, nothing too much, proof-read. set in ancient japan. kitsune wears a yishang despite it beingset in japan so don't mind that.

a/n. i love fox hybrids :') if there are any mistakes please let me know!

wordcount. 2.1k

the quiet forests of the yamashiro mountains were no place for a lone traveller, especially with the whispers of mischievous spirits haunting the winds. but you had no choice.

you were sent to retrieve herbs for your ailing grandmother, and the rarest ones only grew in the deep woods, where mortals dared not venture.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the dense trees as you carefully made your way along the narrow path. you’d heard the stories—how travelers would be lured off their paths by strange lights or laughing voices, never to be seen again.

kitsune were the most feared, ancient fox spirits with the power to trick even the wisest of sages.

but you didn’t believe in such tales… at least, not until you met him.

it started with laughter—soft, melodic, but undeniably playful. the moment you heard it, you stopped in your tracks, eyes darting around for the source. there was no one in sight, but you felt a presence, something watching you from the trees.

“h—hello?” you called out hesitantly, gripping your basket tighter.

more laughter, closer this time. the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and before you could react, a figure appeared before you. he seemed to materialize from the mist itself—standing tall, his molten silver hair cascading down his back in waves that seem to shimmer under the moonlight, as if alive with an ethereal glow.

his sharp, golden eyes, reminiscent of a predator, lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. every movement he makes is smooth, graceful, and effortless, as though he’s one with the very wind itself.

he’s draped in yishang, its silken fabric flowing around him in delicate layers. the garment, though traditional, carries a mysterious air, its texture almost too smooth, too fluid, as if it was woven from the very essence of the night.

even when the air is still, his robes sway gently, giving him an otherworldly presence, like a mirage that could vanish at any moment. and when he smiled, his sharp teeth gleamed in the fading sunlight.

but the most striking feature? the nine tails that swayed lazily behind him.

a kitsune.

“you seem lost, little human,” he purred, his voice as smooth as silk. his lips curled into a sly smile. “or perhaps… you’re just looking for a bit of company?”

your heart raced as you stepped back, your mind screaming at you to run, but something about his gaze rooted you to the spot. he was beautiful—dangerously so—and the playful tilt of his head as he regarded you made you feel like prey.

“i—i’m not lost,” you stammered, trying to sound braver than you felt. “i’m just gathering herbs.”

the kitsune’s eyes gleamed with amusement, and he took a step closer, his movements graceful and almost predatory. “ah, how noble of you,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “but these woods are no place for a delicate thing like you. it’s dangerous.”

“i’ll be fine,” you insisted, though your voice wavered. you tried to sidestep him, but he blocked your path effortlessly, his tails flicking with amusement.

“i can’t let you wander around like that,” he said, his smile widening as he leaned in, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “what if something happened to you? i’d feel terribly guilty.”

you frowned, trying to put some distance between you, but his presence seemed to fill the entire space, surrounding you. his scent—like wildflowers and something musky—invaded your senses, making it hard to think clearly.

“i don’t need your help,” you said firmly, taking another step back. “i’ll manage on my own.”

the kitsune’s expression darkened for just a moment, his eyes flashing dangerously before returning to their playful glint. “oh, but i insist,” he purred, circling you slowly. “i can’t leave such a lovely human alone in these woods, after all. it wouldn’t be right.”

without warning, he vanished in a puff of mist, reappearing behind you in the blink of an eye. you gasped, spinning around to face him, but his long fingers had already wrapped around your wrist, gentle but unyielding.

“let me go,” you demanded, trying to pull free, but his grip only tightened, his golden eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity.

“why would i ever do that?” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “you’ve captured my interest, human. i’ve been watching you for some time now.”

your heart pounded in your chest. “what do you mean?”

the kitsune’s lips curled into a smirk, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “i’ve seen you… in the village, tending to your family, always so kind, so sweet. you didn’t know, but i’ve been waiting for you. and now that i have you…” his grip on your wrist tightened slightly, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“i’m not letting you go.”

you swallowed hard, feeling your pulse race under his touch. “i… i’m just a healer. there’s nothing special about me.”

the kitsune chuckled softly, his tails swaying behind him like flickering flames. “oh, but you are special. you see, humans are so fragile, so fleeting… and yet, you’ve managed to catch my attention.”

his words sent a chill down your spine. "i don’t belong to you,” you said firmly, though your voice trembled slightly.

the kitsune’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, the playful mask he wore slipped, revealing something far more dangerous beneath. "right."

you tried to pull away again, but he was faster, his arms wrapping around you in an almost crushing embrace, his nine tails curling around your body like chains. his face was inches from yours, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that left you breathless.

“you’ll see,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “i can give you everything. power, immortality, anything you desire… as long as you stay by my side.”

your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing for a way out, but the more you struggled, the tighter his grip became. he wasn’t going to let you go.

“i don’t need power or immortality,” you said through gritted teeth, refusing to let him see your fear. “i just need to get the herbs and be on my way.”

the kitsune tilted his head, his smile returning, though it was far more sinister now. “you’ll learn to love me,” he said softly, his voice filled with dark promise. “i’ll make sure of it.”

before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips sfotly brushing the edge of his lips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and for a moment, you felt yourself slipping into the depths of his obsession.

but you weren’t ready to give in. not yet.

with all the strength you could muster, you shoved him back, breaking the kiss and stumbling away from him, your chest heaving.

"wha—what do you think you're doing!?" you exclaimed, cheeks flustered. that was your first kiss!! and he just took it so casually!!

the kitsune stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his smile returned.

“feisty,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with approval. “i like that.”

and with that, he vanished into the mist, his laughter echoing through the trees.

but you knew this wasn’t over.

it had been days since your encounter with the kitsune in the forest. though you managed to escape his immediate grasp, his presence lingered in every corner of your mind.

his laughter echoed in your thoughts, and you often felt his eyes watching, even when you were alone.

you tried to go about your daily life, but the eerie sensation never left you. every shadow, every rustle of leaves, felt like him—waiting, lurking, ready to reappear.

and, as you feared, he did.

you had returned to your village, thinking maybe being surrounded by people would keep him at bay. but even within the walls of your modest home, with your grandmother sleeping soundly in the next room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

the silence of the night was thick and oppressive, and the flickering light of the oil lamp seemed to dance in the windless air.

suddenly, you heard it—soft footsteps outside, impossibly light yet unmistakable. you froze, your heart pounding in your chest. it was him. you knew it.

“don’t,” you whispered to yourself, but your feet moved on their own, leading you to the door.

the moment you slid it open, the cool night air hit you, and there he stood—leaning against the entrance, his golden eyes glowing under the moonlight, the tips of his tails barely visible in the shadows.

“miss me?” he purred, his voice laced with amusement, though there was a hunger in his gaze that made your skin prickle.

“i told you to leave me alone,” you said, your voice more confident than you felt. “i don’t want anything to do with you.”

his smile faltered for a split second before returning, though now it held a dangerous edge. “you keep saying that, little one, but you don’t really mean it.” he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “i can feel it. i can feel how your heart races when i’m near.”

lord, did he have to say that outloud?

his presence was overwhelming—suffocating, like he was weaving a web around you with every movement, every word.

“Iive been patient,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. “but my patience is wearing thin. i’ve watched you every night, waiting… and now, i’m done waiting.”

you took a shaky step back, speaking up. “you don’t own me,” you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “i’m not yours...”

in an instant, his hand was against the wall beside your head, trapping you. his nine tails fanned out behind him, glowing faintly in the moonlight as if reacting to his emotions.

“oh, but you are,” he whispered, leaning in so close you could feel his breath against your skin. “you were mine the moment i laid eyes on you. and now, no matter what you say, i’m not letting you go.”

your heart raced, your mind spinning as his words sunk in. there was no reasoning with him, no escape from his obsession. he truly believed that you belonged to him.

turning your head away from him you shook your head, "absolutely not!! i will not be your prisoner!" you hissed, trying to ignore the flutter of fear and something far more dangerous creeping into your chest.

the kitsune chuckled softly, his fingers gently tilting your chin back toward him. “prisoner? no, no, no… i don’t want to trap you. i want to protect you. keep you safe from the world that doesn’t deserve you.”

his words, so tender yet possessive, made your stomach twist. he leaned in closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch deceptively gentle. “i’ll give you everything you need,” he whispered. “i’ll care for you in ways no human ever could.”

“and if I say no?” you asked, your voice barely more than a breath. you hated how weak you sounded, how difficult it was to stand your ground when he was so close, so overwhelming.

his golden eyes narrowed, his smile fading ever so softly. “you won’t say no.” his voice was soft, but the warning was clear.

before you could react, he pressed his lips to yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. his hands, now gently cupping your face, were trembling slightly—as if holding back some deeper, more dangerous impulse. his tails coiled around your body, binding you to him as if to remind you that there was no escape.

you tried to pull away, but the kiss deepened, his lips moving with an intensity that stole your breath. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claim, a promise, a binding of your very soul to his.

when he finally pulled back, his breath ragged, his eyes glowed with triumph. “you feel it too, don’t you?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin. “that pull between us. you can’t deny it forever.”

you stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, torn between fear, confusion, and something far more dangerous—something that threatened to draw you in.

his touch, his words, his very presence, seemed to wrap around you like a spell.

this was bad.

without another word, he stepped back, the cool air filling the space between you once more. his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he vanished into the night, his form dissolving into mist, leaving you breathless and shaken.

he would return. he always would. after all, he had already decided—you were his, he was yours, and there was no escaping a fox’s devotion.

[brontesparrow]

I can’t get past how in episode 6 of The Boys Hughie Campbell gets SA’d in the Tek Cave—a parody of Batman and the Bat Cave—and instead of properly addressing it in episode 7 he is SA’d again by a shapeshifter pretending to be his girlfriend—a direct parallel to Dick Grayson being SA’d by the shapeshifter Mirage who was pretending to be his girlfriend, which has also never been addressed by DC writers (along with his SA at the hands of Tarantula).

The Boys regularly parodies/satirises/mocks DC and Marvel. I don’t know if this is an intentional commentary on Dick Grayson and how his SA is treated in canon and by the writers or if they just have a similar messy approach to male SA

Anyway justice for Hughie Campbell and justice for Dick Grayson

[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.

[yeyinde]

WICKER PYRE | Dragon!Price x Reader

All things considered, you should have expected it. You know better than to make deals with dragons.

WARNINGS: 18+ | light smut—no descriptions of anatomy used for the reader; possessive undertones; dragon trickery; blink and you'll miss it Celtic Dragon mythology and folklore WORD COUNT: 1,5K NOTES: They tempted me with hellfire and pretty imagery, so. Here we are.

It smells of biochar, pyrolysis. The incendiary heat sparks to life around you; a thick, impenetrable wall of stifling warmth, and you blink through the haze, the heat mirage, that swims in front of your eyes, trying to clear the clouds from your vision. 

It's hot. 

Hellfire. Inferno. Absolute. 

Paradoxically, it edges into dry heat—wildfires: burning forests, charred logs, crumbling charcoal, ashes—but your skin is drenched in sweat; sticky, tacky. Hot springs. Lavascape. 

You're drowning in Phlegethon, hands clawing at molten skin to stay afloat. 

"Shush, shush—"

It's a wheezing rasp. A rumble that rebounds against the carverous, limestone walls and echoes in your ears. The vibrations of it rattle through your chest and dislodge the panic from between your ribs. 

"Easy, now."

Despite the smoked-cured softness of the voice above you, around you, in you, it booms through your marrow; the sudden shift of the plates. A tectonic shockwave that bludgeons into you. 

"Can't—" you start, words a desperate, aching whine. "Can't—John—it's so hot—!"

His answer is a grunt; a rolling, monstrous sound that shivers across your skin. It's easy, with his front pressed against your back, his words hissed into your crown, to forget that he isn't a man. That his body is made of the valleys: carved from chiselled andesite, graphite, and limestone. Coursing through his veins is ichor and brimstone, fed from the burning pyre inside his chest that blooms tuffs of smoke, and reeks of ash. 

He quiets you with another low pur, and feeds the tips of his steel claws into your flesh, anchoring you tight to his body.

And then you hear the fire-painted voice speak from between his nicotine fangs: "I know." 

And you suppose he would. 

Molten blood. Igneous skin. His voice is Pyroclastic: tephra falling from his heaving chest. 

With the exception of his pointed, angular claws, his hands almost look human. Almost. 

But when they grip your hips tight, the skin of his palms feels too thick. Too velveteen. Like the soft underbelly of a reptile.

Those claws hold you steady as he slides the full, burning length of himself into you. The blunt press of his cock splitting you apart, and the rasp of his knuckles, rough with blackened osteoderms protruding from his thick skin, makes you shiver. It feels like sandpaper when it prickles over your flesh. 

You try to gasp but the oxygen in the room is swallowed by the flames. Try to move but his weight on your body is a plutonic ash bed. A prison. 

Jewels and gems nip at your skin when you ramble to find purchase on the treasure trove of his nest, to find something to hold onto while your body is slowly consumed by the unrelenting heat of him stretching you into a shape you do not recognise. 

"Tryna run?" He mocks. "Thought you could handle it, mm? Wasn't that our deal? Do you know what happens to little humans who try to break their promises?"

You want to bite back something scathing, something dripping in venom and cruelty, but the words are ground into peat salt when he presses the full weight of himself onto you, using the momentum to snap his hips harder, faster, than he was before. 

(You swear, swear, you feel the white-hot tip of him digging harshly into your sternum.)

But he's merciful—to a degree—and his hand lifts, drops in front of your nose, claws gleaming in the flames that surround his den, his prison, his home. 

You take in the sight of his heat-scorched skin—a chromosphere of living magma: blistering red dusted with fine ash. It's pretty. Stunning. You're mesmerised by the ripples of fire running in thick rivulets beneath his carbonised pelt, and you know, then, why he's so sought after. Respected. Feared. 

(Who would try and run afoul around a man, a being, a beast, who has hellfire burning in his veins?)

The brief respite splinters when he shifts forward, pushing himself as deep into your body as he can possibly go, and the world around you lists sharply on its axis when he pulses, branding you from the inside out, turning your body into a magma chamber that only fits him—

You can't breathe—haven't been able to since you rocked up to the smouldering cavern on the side of a mountain, and demanded he make a deal with you. It's hard to acclimate to the carbon-rich air that thrums around you like a thick curtain of plasma, threatening to consume you whole. 

"Easy, now, pretty thing," he purrs again and the deep rumble that spills from his expansive chest seems to glue to each bone in your body, reverberating deep within your liquifying marrow.

His elbow falls, chin presses into your crown. He breathes you in, and the world around you shudders, and ripples like the glimmering sea of a heat haze. An optical illusion. A mirage. But one that flexes around you like water; moulding to your body, and filling in all the crevasses and canyons until the plasmic air clings to your skin. 

Smoke billows with his exhale. You scent charred tobacco leaves, brimstone, crushed granite, and burning rock—sharp and acrid. The smell sticks to the back of your throat and colours your lungs in a fine layer of rock dust.

The world around you shakes when he growls into your crown, nose pressed tight to your sweat-slicked skin. 

It feels like an earthquake rattling inside of you, shaking loose the paper-thin threads of sanity that keep you still beneath his bulk.

"Ah, John—"

His forearm slides closer to your gasping mouth, and you scent guncotton on his skin. Thick. Heady. It makes your head swim, and a fever bloom in your veins. 

"There," he huffs into your hair, and the plume of his voice heats the world around you by several degrees. "Now you have something to hold on to, love." 

His voice is pinched with something that sounds mockingly cruel, mordant, but there's a softness in the way he holds you close; a tenderness that biles the roughness of his hands, the sharp drag of his claws against your flesh. 

"Now," he continues, hand tightening on your skin hard enough to bruise your tremulous bones. "Be good, and let me fuck you." 

With that, he snaps forward until he's once buried to the hilt. Fangs prickle across your shoulder blade when he lowers his maw to your skin. Each heavy exhale through his nose leaves a scorching mark over your flesh until it's blistered and raw. 

He sets a brutal pace, and each time he sinks in deep, you feel something inside of you splinter, break. It's unlike anything, anything, you'd ever felt before—a liquid pleasure and pain that melts together into burning heat. It feels like euphoria and punishment in the same breath: an equilibrium of salvation and condemnation.   

Each growl that leaves his heaving chest shakes the cobwebs from between your ribs, and fills them with ash and smoke. It seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning you with each harsh stroke. 

(You forgot that he was poisonous—)

But it's too late. 

Lost in the delirious cloud of heat, ozone, and John, all you can do is wrap your tiny hands around the thick of his forearm, nails barely leaving a mark on his thick pelt, and cling to him as he takes what you offered with greedy claws, and gluttonous eyes, pounding you into his bed of furs, and stolen gems and gold. Treasure toppled to the ceiling of the cavern they warned you to stay away from. The precious clutch of a monster who protects his wares with fire and madness. Raining wrath and fury, white-hot rage and red-hot desperation, down on anyone who dares to get close. 

It's too much, too much, but you knew what you were getting into when you tried to barter with him.

("Let's make a deal—"

And he'd said, "you must be desperate. Don't you know what I am—"

His noctilucent eyes burned in the dark. 

Mocking. Cruel. Hungry.)

All you can do now is hope, somehow, that you make out in a single piece. That all your vibrating atoms stay whole; intact. That you don't lose yourself inside the madness of heat, and burning fire. 

That you'll make it out, alive.

—if, of course, he lets you go—

But those hopes are dashed when his molten tongue flickers out, laving a burning path across your neck. 

"You'll look so good in all my gold," he snarls, a thundershock right into your core. 

And then he sinks his fangs into your neck. 

You should have known from the start when he looked at you with hunger, rapacious greed in his keen, sharp eyes that you were not leaving his den again. 

(The most precious piece in his hoard.)

Your body is a wicker pyre made to be burned. From the charred ashes, something new will rise. A phoenix trapped in the paws of a beast who likes pretty, shiny things, and will never let go. 

(And really, what else did you expect when you decided to tempt a dragon?)

[writeyouin]

Mirage X Reader - Falling

Description (This was a request but it got sent to my PMs instead of my inbox by accident): When Alison Moyet's song Falling comes on the radio, Mirage is forced to think about you and his feelings towards you.

A/N – Yep, so another Mirage one for all of you desperately waiting for the film to come out on a good pirating site in top quality.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You stood at the sink washing dishes, a tune on your lips that you mumbled quietly to yourself, only half singing with your mind on other things like lost loves, failed relationships, and someone new in your life; Mirage.

“She said something like, I’m tired of me,” You sang Alison Moyet’s ‘Falling’, and then transitioned to whistling part more of the tune which had only come out a year prior.

Then, without the radio to follow, you reset to an earlier part of the tune, singing whichever little bits came to mind.

Little did you know, Mirage was spying on you, trying his best to imitate the stealthy way Arcee moved. Alas, subtlety wasn’t Mirage’s strong suit and he had already knocked over a row of garbage cans, and crushed some kid’s bike; he could only hope the bike wouldn’t be missed. Fortunately, among the usual noise and squalor of New York, nobody had cared about the sound or come out to explore.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be a creep by observing you. He just wanted to know more about your life and what you did. It seemed that in your day-to-day routine, you were obsessed with music. Bumblebee had already introduced Mirage to the concept of human music which was vastly different from the stuff that used to exist on Cybertron and Mirage liked it.

It was different from what he was used to for sure, but there were some songs he just couldn’t resist. The Twisted Sister song ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It,’ seemed to be a great Frag You to any Decepticon scum that attempted battle with him. And there was that one Bumblebee had introduced to him, ‘I Can’t Drive 55’, by that Sammy Hager fella. That was great, but Mirage was more than capable of beating that set speed and regularly did so when he wanted to bait the local authorities into a fun chase.

Still, he wasn’t sure he saw the appeal of this song. It sounded happy and sad at the same time, and he couldn’t decide which it was supposed to be with its New Wave vibe. Was it about falling, like it said? Falling for what? Mirage wasn’t sure, but you seemed to enjoy it. You hummed it quite a lot when you were thinking; he wasn’t sure you realised that you did that. It was one of the things he liked about you. It felt like you were letting your guard down when you hummed along to half a tune, and he enjoyed that you could feel so relaxed around him and the other Autobots.

Mirage might have called on you that night to ask you out on a drive; he liked your company. Alas, he got a message from Optimus telling him to return for the evening so they might meet the humans that Noah had been found by. Apparently, the new humans wished to discuss the possibility of an alliance with the Autobots.

Either way, Optimus’ message ended with, “Return to the rendezvous immediately.”

“Mirage, return,” Mirage mocked, impersonating Optimus. “Mirage, meet the humans. Mirage, I choose you.”

“Did I ask for your backtalk?” Optimus’ gravelly voice came through the radio.

“Scrap!” Mirage hurried to end the communication, having not realised that the line was still open when he had been joking around.

He transformed and raced off to the rendezvous point, any thoughts of you temporarily forgotten.

The next night, the Autobots stood in a unified line as they stared at their new base, a fully functional warehouse, with technology that they could use, even if it was primitive Earth tech.

“Optimus, can we trust these humans?” Arcee asked, her optics never leaving the building.

“We must try, Arcee. I see now that we have spent too much time working only for ourselves when we should have been working together.”

“Any way you want it, that’s the way you need it,” Bumblebee played from his speakers, using Journey’s immortalised words to convey his point.

Arcee looked past Optimus to catch a glimpse of Mirage, “You’ve been awfully quiet, Mirage. Thoughts?”

Mirage marched himself in front of the trio, clapping his servos together as he began his speech, “Well, I mean, clearly there’s a lot to think about here. There are the new humans we know, we have to check the place for bugs, and of course, there’s the most important matter of all-” He took a few slow steps backwards, “- who gets the biggest room. I call dibs!”

With that Mirage spun on his heel and pelted towards the base. Bumblebee, unwilling to let Mirage have all the fun joined in the race and chased after his ally, though when he had just about caught up, Mirage jumped backwards, crashing into Bumblebee and knocking him over. Before he could sprint off again, Bumblebee grabbed Mirage’s ankle and the two began brawling on the floor.

Optimus walked past the wrestling bots with dignity befitting his position and a dismayed shake of his head.

Arcee took a few steps closer to her allies, resting her servo on her hip as she took in the show.

‘Scouts will be scouts,’ She thought mirthfully.

Eventually, the competition was over, with Bumblebee the clear victor, and after sitting on top of Mirage for ten minutes, he finally let him get up, but only after Mirage admitted that Bumblebee was the best Autobot and the supreme Earth expert.

After that, they raced through the base, checking out every nook and cranny, and wondering which exits they could exploit and sneak out of, should Optimus try to ground them from the drive-in again.

Eventually, Bumblebee and Mirage settled down, each picking out a portion of the warehouse that was just for them. All rooms had been modified with individual entrances so they could come and go as they pleased. Mirage had even been hooked up with some sweet racing posters. He set about decorating the room to his liking, letting his internal radio play as he did so. After switching channels, he stumbled across the song you liked so much.

Curiously, he let it play, trying to really listen to what the lyrics meant.

She said something like I want to go Down where the river's wild He said take me then I want to drown Deep in your violent eyes

Deep in your violent eyes? Was it a love song? If it was, it was the strangest one he had heard before.

He continued listening.

But I want to be sure of one thing That I'm getting into something peaceful I want to fly in on your wing Way, way up here I don't care for anything It's all in, and I'm not afraid I don't fear Falling

There was no doubt about it. The song was indeed about falling in love.

Mirage felt a sharp prick of indignation. Were you in love with someone? He had to assume so, considering that you didn’t seem to sing anything else. It was always this song. Who were you in love with, and why did he care so much?

He wasn’t sure, but the idea of you with someone else made Mirage’s engines rev and his face contort disgustedly. You were his buddy, his pal, his partner in crime. Why did you need some stupid, boring human, when you could hang out with him? Speaking of which, when was the last time the two of you had hung out of late? You hadn’t been together much since he’d been repaired. Well, with his room claimed and little else to do, Mirage decided that tonight was as good as any to get in some bonding time.

He transformed, revving his engine loudly as he waited for the automatic garage door to open for him. His wheels spun on the spot in a move that would have burned rubber on any ordinary car. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened enough for him to slip through and he sped off, ignoring every speed limit he came across; if Prime gave him the third degree about laying low later, he would claim ignorance and take whatever punishment he was given.

When Mirage got to your house, he honked his horn loudly, waiting for you to open your window and see him. He couldn’t transform into his root-mode while a few seedy humans lingered about, so he had to wait for you to get to him… presuming you weren’t with someone lame, like a crush you hadn’t mentioned.

At the commotion, you poked your head out of the window, grinning when you saw Mirage. You held up two fingers, indicating that you would be two minutes and then hastily got changed from your pyjamas back into your day clothes. Grabbing your keys, you ran outside and climbed into Mirage’s passenger seat, buckling up in case he decided to take off before speaking as he was prone to do; buckling up was indeed a wise choice as Mirage took speedily to the streets.

“So,” You asked casually, “Business or pleasure?”

“Have you ever seen me do business? Business is for the big guy, you know, never smiles, never shows me that underbite, the big OP,” Mirage sassed you.

“I dunno, you seemed pretty business when you fought Scourge for me.”

“For you? No, no, no, I was fighting Scourge just for the sake of being the tri-planet champion.”

“Tri-planet champion?” You repeated incredulously. “You only fought him on Earth.”

“Yeah, but he’s from Galvatron, the living freaking planet. He fought on the Maximals’ planet, and he came here. Count ‘em – One, two, three. So, I digress, Tri-planet Champion.”

“Well, technically Noah was the one to face off with him, so-”

“Yeah, while he was inside me.”

“Okay, but Optimus was the one who took him offline.”

“Look, Optimus is always gonna be the champion of frowning and hard stares, a class I can’t compete in, so this is my thing.”

“All right,” You held up your hands in mock defeat. “You’re the champion.”

“Damn straight.”

“…Is the Champion going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere, Anywhere the road takes us. Just sit back and relax. We could listen to some music,” Mirage suggested innocently, his hidden agenda on his processor.

“Sure, then I can be the champion of karaoke,” You bragged.

“Against my voice? In your dreams.”

“Oh, so you can fight, race, and sing? Triple threat.”

Mirage laughed and turned on his radio. He let a few songs play, letting you sing along while he distractedly kept his inner workings tuned on finding the Alison Moyet hit. It would likely play soon, considering its popularity.

After a few good tunes, Mirage managed to find the song and he switched channels.

“Oh hey, I’ve heard this one before,” He said nonchalantly, “This is that sappy love song, right?“

“I don’t think it’s that sappy,” You defended with a smile.

“Oh yeah? Why? Does it make you think of someone special or something?”

You imagined how easy it would be to tell Mirage the the ‘someone special’ was him; as it turned out, it wouldn’t be easy at all. You clamped your mouth shut, a blush peppering your cheeks.

“So there is someone!” Mirage said all too accusingly. “You won’t be needing me anymore then, when this new person comes into your life.”

“You sound angry.”

“No I don’t!” Mirage replied huffily, proving your point. “You know what? I don’t think I like this song after all.”

He turned the radio off and the two of you sat in awkward silence. He kept on driving, slamming down on the accelerator. There was a lot of noise from honking cars as he sped in and out of their way.

“Just tell me who it is!” Mirage demanded petulantly when the silence finally got to him. “Is it Noah? He’s probably your type, right?”

“Why do you care?” You asked, annoyed and upset by the turn of events from nice drive to speedy interrogation.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you asking so many questions?”

“I just feel I deserve to know who it is.”

“NO YOU DON’T!” You yelled back. “THEY’RE MY FEELINGS”

“AND I’M YOUR FRIEND,” Mirage countered as if that ought to give him the right to know everything you thought.

“This is so stupid,” You breathed, shaking your head.

“Come on!” Mirage insisted. “Tell me!”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me-”

Against Mirage’s frustrating onslaught, you finally yelled, “IT’S YOU!”

Mirage slammed hard on the breaks and you lurched forward, hissing as the seatbelt bit painfully into your collar bone. Fortunately, you were in an area with no cars on the road, having got off the interstate some time ago.

“What?” Mirage asked.

“It’s nothing, just… take me home, please,” You begged, scared now that you had said too much.

“You like me? Like romantically? You like me romantically? You romantically like me?”

“You done with the combinations?” You said bitterly.

“But I’m- I’m an alien.”

“Yeah,” You threw your hands up. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Now will you please take me home?”

Mirage transformed his arm, pulling you out of his chassis as the rest of his body followed suit. From his palm, you looked down to the floor, wondering whether it would be better to jump and get a concussion rather than have the embarrassing conversation that was about to follow.

“I don’t get it,” Mirage said, staring at you as if you were a complicated mathematics problem.

“I know,” You said, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as if it might protect you from the sorrow you were feeling.

“No, but like, I really don’t get it. I thought you were just a friend, and kind of cool but I think- I think I feel the same way, maybe?”

You watched Mirage guardedly, unsure as to why he was asking you when it was his feelings that were scrambled.

“Look, Mirage, you don’t have to pity me, okay? Please don’t test yourself on me. I know I’m not what you’d look for and-”

Mirage pressed his lips against yours then hastily pulled away. You stared at him, too scared to speak.

He nodded to himself, pecked your lips again, and then vented a quick puff of air from his systems.

“Yeah, yep, yes,” He stammered. “That- That was a feeling. A-ha. Yeah, so I just found out I have a thing for you too.”

“You serious?” You asked, making sure that Mirage was alright as he stumbled through a barrage of new feelings.

“Yeah, I uh- I get the song now. Still don’t love it, but I get it.”

“Seriously? You’re still thinking about the song?”

“Hey, I’m thinking about a lot of things at once here (Y/N), mostly how I’m going to explain this to Prime later, a little bit about how this is going to work, and yeah, the song slipped in there. Frankly, I think we need to get you more into Bon Jovi, but I guess this could be our song or whatever.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “This was not how I pictured any of this going.”

“Yeah,” Mirage nodded, pacing back and forth, the motion rocking you on his palm, “But at least we got a song, right? Most new couples got nothing.”

Despite your tiredness, you couldn’t help smiling at his straightforward manner of thinking, “Sure, Mirage. At least we have a song.”

[puhmpken]

this has BEEN edited 🥳🎉

Author’s Note: this may be silly, but i have nagging myself to write this one 😭😭 hope yall like it <33

Warning ⚠️-> none! enjoy ☺️

Title: Hell’s GreatestDadParents !

Alastor X You OneShot

written + edited by @puhmpkins-blog 🎃

W/C: 1.8 K 🥱 not sm this time around

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with tension. You sat perched on the edge of the queen-sized bed, your arms crossed. The fabric of your knee-length dress rustled as you shifted–avoiding eye contact with a certain red-haired demon who stood in the doorway.

“Unfair, Al,” You muttered, your voice ringing out lowly.

Alastor’s response was swift, his tone unwavering. “Dearie, not everything I want you to do will be fair. Just listen and do as you’re told.” His footsteps echoed as he closed the distance, bold strides carrying him toward you. His tuxedo jacket was impeccably tailored, and he adjusted the sleeves with a flick of his wrist.

“I need you to come to the hotel with me,” Alastor continued, his crimson eyes piercing. “Help me persuade the princess to listen to me more.” His fist clenched, and a surge of green energy erupted from his palm. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded.

His smile was unsettling, a blend of charm and menace. “Excellent, dear,” Alastor murmured.

Your smile stretched as Lucifer's eyed you–He recognized you.

Charlie’s cheerful introduction echoed in the room, and you gracefully stood, leaving the bar behind.

“And this is Alastor's wife! (Y/n)” Charlie said happily

 Your hand extended toward Lucifer,

“Lucifer,” you greeted, your voice a velvet whisper. “Long time no see, old friend.” 

As your fingers brushed his, the chandelier above swayed, then plummeted, shattering into shards. Lucifer flinched, his gaze darting to the wreckage. But your smile only widened, revealing your sharp teeth.

Retracting your hand, you moved past him, joining Alastor’s side.

Lucifer bangs covered his eyes, his smile bared his teeth as he fist clenched on his staff 

“haha..alrighty then” He said lowly  

The blare of a trumpet was heard making you put your ears down

“Looks like you could use some help” Lucifer said swiping his cane in the air making Alastor and You dodge it, as he moved Charlie away from the both of you 

“From the Big Boss of Hell himself!

Check out Daddy's glowing reviews on Yelp” 

Mini little puppets appeared around Charlie, you kept your arms crossed watching him sing about the same thing he always does..the things he could promise 

“Who needs buspeople?” he asks, snapping his finger. The scenery morphed, reality bending to his whims.

You, now changed, were in a crisp standard waitress outfit, balancing a silver platter on one hand as Charlie sat beside your standing figure.

Standing at Charlie other-side was Alastor, he was in a server outfit pouring red wine into a chalet for Charlie

 Lucifer’s voice cut through the air

“Now that you got the chef!” 

The ground shifted below you before Alastor and you plummeted into a colossal frying pan. The impact jarred your bones, but you landed on your back—luckier than Alastor, who fell face-first, his ears pinning back in probably discomfort 

The scene shifted, reality bending like a mirage.

You groaned, your normal size restored. Revenge simmered within you;surely you had to get him back for him messing around with you..?

Lucifer’s pitch lacked conviction. His promises were half-hearted. 

(f/c) swirls manifested around you–Both you and Alastor vanished, then reappeared before Lucifer, neon colors exploding from your very essence as he finished his song note

Slinging an arm around Lucifer, you feigned warmth, as if about to embrace him. But instead, you pushed him toward Alastor

“Who’s been here since day 1?” Alastor sang to Charlie, catching Lucifer. The red demon’s smile, as he shoved Lucifer aside and out of the way

You manifested on Charlie's side, you clouded her vision from seeing Alastor shove her father with your mock nun attire that clung to your curves perfectly it caught her attention, you held your hands in a mock prayer 

“Who’s been faithful as a nun?” you asked, raising an eyebrow leaning towards her smiling.

Red theater curtains swirled around and engulfed the both of you–before swiping open, the curtain revealing a big stage bathed in warm light. You and Alastor both stood at its center, the spotlight capturing every move. 

“Who makes you chuckle with an old timey pun?” You questioned out hip bumping Alastor as you waved your finger back and forth shutting one eye as you looked up to a smiling Charlie who was seating in the audience. Her smile was radiant. She leaned forward, caught in the theatrical magic.

You and Alastor materialized on opposite sides of her, your voices harmonizing.

“Your executive producer~!”

Elbowing her playfully as Alastor wrapped a arm around her, Charlie’s laughter echoed, and the scene shifted seamlessly.

“That’s true!” Charlie exclaimed, glancing from Alastor to you.

 “He’s your guy!” You said appearing as a small shoulder angel infront of Charlie’s face “Your day-to-day!”Another little angel version of you winked. “Your chum!” Another version of you butted-in moving the first two a bit to the side as it pointed to Alastor

The scene shifted to the three of you guys working the front desk behind a busy hotel lobby “Your steadfast hotelier~!” You said as guests hurried by, their requests and complaints blending into a cacophony.

“Why, remember when he fixed that clog today?” you said raising a eyebrow before putting your hand to your chin. Alastor, sleeves rolled up, as he pulled Nifty out of a stubborn toilet. The cyclops grateful voice echoed as a once clogged toilet started to flush 

“I was stuck! Thank you, sir,” Nifty had exclaimed. Alastor, still holding Nifty, patted her head with a smirk as you mirrored it, watching Charlie with her close eye smile. 

 “Oh you” She replied holding her cheek 

Alastor stepped forward, spinning Charlie with practiced ease.

“I am truly honored that we built such a bond” Alastor said looking at Charlie from now on top the staircases as neon faces of them lit up 

“Aww” Charlie replied 

You appeared on Charlie's side leaning in, one hand on Charlie’s shoulders, sincerity in your eyes. “You’re like the child we wished we had,” you sang, your voice a gentle lullaby.

“Uhhh, what?”Lucifer’s voice interrupted from below the set of stairs.

Your eyes shot to him with a flash of a smirk spreading on your face for him to see and disappearing, did you strike a nerve? 

Seating yourself at the edge of a bed, you looked down at a tucked-in Charlie. Alastor stood beside you, his hand on your shoulder. Together, you painted the picture of an unconventional loving family—the perfect family picture for Lucifer to have ingrained in his head. 

“We care for you just like a daughter we spawned,” you said, patting Charlie’s head. Her eyes closed, as she relaxed into the makeshift embrace.

But Lucifer’s protest echoed. “Hold on NOW!” he shouted, disrupting the scene. You grabbed Charlie’s arm, pulling her out of bed. Spinning her, you cheered on her dance moves, and Alastor’s amused voice joined the chorus.

“Its little funny” You heard Alastor say— “You can almost say were your” Alastor’s voice trailed off as he grabbed both Charlie and you, spinning you both with one arm. He positioned you next to his side, placing Charlie in front of both of you. “Parentsssss,” he drawled, dragging out the word. His wicked gaze turned toward Lucifer, and you mirrored his smile, snapping your head to Lucifer before returning to your regular expression looking at Charlie 

Suddenly you heard the noise of a violin playing..you looked to Lucifer seeing him play a golden one rather aggressively towards Alastor and you 

You raised your eyebrow looking at Lucifer, as he was taking bold strides towards the both of you, before he got too close, a piano materialized in front of you as you heard your husband voice cut through the air 

“Take it away dear!” Seating down, cracking your knuckles. Your fingers danced across the keys, and you shut your eyes, lost in the music–focus on upstaging Lucifer

Playing the last key, the final note harmony was shattered–you cringed at the noise you were hearing. It sound like a instrument being crushed, your shoulders tensed to the loud sharp noise–your deer ears flickering back and forth in annoyance. You peered your head over your shoulders too see Lucifer with squinted eyes and the purposely crush instrument above his head. As you squinted back, the lights around both of you flickered before shutting off completely.

Thinking the little singing battle was over you heard, a rhythmic beat filling the air.

“They say when you’re looking for assistants,” Alastor began, as large books started to descend onto Charlie’s back as she struggled to keep them up

“It’s smart to pick the path of less-,” you continued for Alastor, as both your figures manifested tendrils from the ground

As Alastor and you sang out

“Resistances~!”

As the tendrils thickened before lifting the heavy books off of Charlie back with ease 

Lucifer interjected, “Others say in your needy hour. There’s no substitute for pure–angelic–POWER!!!.” With a spread of his wings, he flew briefly before landing near Charlie with a crazed look, gripping his staff tightly

“Whose is also your blood!”

As Lucifer approached Charlie closely, you stepped between them, easily grabbing her attention.

“Sadly there are times where a birth parent” As both Charlie and you appeared in a higher location looked down on Lucifer as you did a thumbs down motion “Are a dud” A trap door beneath him swung open, sending him plummeting into a black void.

“They say the family you choose” Alastor said appearing on Charlie’s otherside as little images of Angel, Nifty, Husk and Sir Pentious appeared around you three “Are often better!” 

“What a bunch of,” Lucifer interjected, popping up and shoving Alastor aside with his staff.

“LOSERS!”

You watched standing next to Charlie as Alastor hip bumped Lucifer “Can you butt out of my song?” He questioned watching Lucifer stumble forward 

“Your song?!” Lucifer countered, walking back towards Alastor and standing on his tiptoes, pointing at himself. “I started this!”

“I’ll finish it,” Alastor quickly replied, leaning down towards Lucifer as they both bumped heads, their razor-sharp teeth bared, growling like wild animals.

“OH! YOu tacky, piece of SHI–”Lucifer’s sentence was cut short as the door suddenly burst open.

Alastor and Lucifer both pausing their yelling at one another as they both turned their heads to the noise..really everyone did

A small but recognizable figure appeared at the door, prompting an internal eye roll from you.

“It’s me!” she sang out, wagging her finger and bouncing her hip. “Yes, it’s me! I know you were all waiting for me!” Confetti flew as if from thin air.

“It’s ME!” she exclaimed, now on the second floor, jumping from the railing and landing on her knees, sliding a bit on the floor. “MIMZYYY!” she proclaimed, taking in some big breaths after her energetic entrance.

“Who?” Lucifer asked after a moment, confusion written all over his face as he raised one eyebrow.

FIN!!!

Extra! Extra!

No extra is available this time around! Tune in next time for extras! :))

[snipersfucker]

Hcs for mirage and make it spicy too 😈

yall so down bad for that robot dick smh (me too)

its nsfw (mirage x human!reader) stuff here so mdni even though i know yall read that 18+ shit anyway but imma just put it here. also, i am a grown ass woman and was still blushing while writing this so. warning: its hella fucking long

mirage headcanons

let's start with something that just popped up in my head:

when he's the dom, he praises you a lot but also i feel like he's the type to slightly tease/mock you? hear me out. "aw, you're gonna cum? yeah? you wanna be good for me and cum?" while slamming into you and ridding you of any thoughts

and while subbing, he's so whiny... like, whimpering, begging you to let him finish (in general or inside you cause i have a breeding kink) but also, he's being a big fucking brat, literally provoking you so that you'd go harder, be meaner to him

loves edging, loves doing it to you, loves watching you squirm and turn into mush with that cocky smile on his face, only using his hands on you

he definitely likes being edged, too. definitely. imagine him with his wrists tied behind his back, you not letting him touch you/stop you from torturing him, him complying even though he could easily break free..... he's a good boy and lets you do anything you want. (whimpers)

overstimulation as well, he just loves seeing you in that state, begging, crying in pleasure, moaning, whimpering, whatever. really.

he loses it when you overstimulate him though, definitely overheating and not being able to do anything other than beg you to stop, even though he's so fucking into it

12 inches. at least tbh.

i don't even wanna imagine what his cum must taste like, it's either washer fluid, gasoline or fucking rainwater he collects inside him so that you wouldn't have to swallow the first two things idk

back to pleasant things:

he'd definitely take you on rides where he just tells you to touch yourself for him in the driver's seat so that he could watch and hear everything

if you're a bold person (me) and came up with that idea first? like, he's driving around, talking with you through the radio, the mood is already slightly sexual, teasing and all (you know how he is), and then you decide to win the war and begin slowly undressing and touching yourself.... i feel like he'd either go completely silent for a moment or be like "damn... didn't know you had it in you". and expect him to literally ruin your insides when you get back to the garage. the positions he'd put you in.....

speaking of positions. he's big. i really like to believe your human body would be able to take him (i definitely would) but i am not entirely sure. do i care, though? no.

so his fav one is cowgirl. you straddling his lap while he's sitting, his servos on your waist/hips, them not moving you up and down but only staying there, allowing you to do anything you want (he doesn't wanna hurt you as any normal person)

missionary, too. mating press when he feels like ruining you in the sweetest way possible.

he'd try most things you'd ask him to do. he's a whore tbh. but. choking is a no, slapping and any other thing that could potentially cause you unwanted pain due to his strength and size is a no for him. wrapping his fingers around your throat just so that you'd feel them there? hell yeah. actually applying pressure? you might die

doesn't mind your hands on his neck, though. he knows you can't do shit to him, he'd let you hold a knife to his throat if you wanted to tbh, he couldn't care less (turns him on)

he looks like he fucking enjoys roleplays and the cringe ones, too. like, police officer stopping him for speeding, him acting all innocent and then he has to get punished for breaking the law or some shit. he just has that face that looks like he likes these things

he'd be so bratty as well. "no, ma'am, i am sure i wasn't speeding. well, you could always handcuff me if you think otherwise....." in that fake innocent tone....

size kink, breeding kink (just pretend his cum is normal like, potential gasoline inside me is a turn off for me personally tbh), bondage... he'd tie you up but again, he doesn't wanna hurt you, he'd prefer if you had complete control over your limbs and all. but loves it when you do it to him as i mentioned earlier

he's gotta prep you real good before putting it in, again because of his size. fingers, lube, your spit, anything. he needs to make sure you're stretched out enough to take him

he'd definitely steal your panties to jerk himself off with them (will be writing a whole fic about it someday)

speaking of masturbation, he's a horny fuck, everything about you gets him going and there aren't enough occasions for you to actually have sex, so he just uses his own hand, imagining you in various positions, even the impossible ones just because.

i don't think they have involuntary boners that show and they have to transform a bit to get their dicks out so he just does it to get rid of the unbearable tension inside him, not because anybody would see him with a hard-on

he cums a lot. the fluid literally never stops coming out of his dick when he finishes. breeding kink goes brrrr once again.

once came up with a funny safe word and told you to use it every single time you feel anything else other than pleasure

his digits are so big, he could easily use just one and make you crumble for him with just pushing it in and out of you

his aftercare probably consists of him holding you after sex, although he's aware that the metal body might not be the most comfortable thing ever. he'd definitely offer to take you on a joy ride afterwards. oh, and praise, too. but would also probably playfully make fun of you for saying horny stuff you'd normally never say to him if your mind wasn't clouded with lust

he's so confident in his bedroom abilities, too, as he should tbh.

i want him to manhandle me but also make him my pet.