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daphnefisherofficial · 9 months

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bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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CHAPTER ONE - SHADOWS OF THE PAST.

TWO MONTHS LATER…

The grandeur of your ancestral house in Guildford enveloped you as you strolled through its opulent corridors. Intricately carved wooden paneling adorned the walls, while rich crimson carpets absorbed the echo of your footsteps. The air is filled with the faint scent of polished wood and aged leather, exuding dignified timelessness.

Ascending the grand staircase, you run your hand along the mahogany handrail, feeling the smoothness of centuries of use. Reaching the landing on the second floor, a series of oil paintings greeted your vision. Painted by the likes of Van Gogh, Monet, Gauguin and Millet, each frame you passed through expressively telling stories of their lives’ hardships expressed through masterful strokes that evoked love, pain and unwavering resolve.

You finally reached a pair of imposing double doors, elaborately carved with intricate designs and gilded accents. Pushing them open, you step into your refuge within this grand manor. You took in the soft early afternoon light streaming through the lace curtains, the interior awash in soft, muted colors that evoke a sense of calm and serenity. The master bedroom itself bore an air of regal charm, with the walls adorned with exquisite silk wallpaper featuring delicate floral patterns. A four-poster bed draped in satin was situated at the very center, the bed linens made of the finest Egyptian cotton and the plump pillows neatly arranged in the head rest.

Seating yourself at the foot of your bed, your eyes caught a familiar oil canvas painting facing your direction - a self portrait of you dressed in a filipiniana gown while holding a soft-feathered fan on your right hand. Brief images of the very day you were painted flashed through your mind, remembering your shy, palpable smile as you took a graceful, elegant pose towards the handsome yet unrecognizable painter as his right hand carefully glided his paintbrush across the canvas.

You’ve been having these recurring dreams again as of late. But you cannot figure out for the life of you who the mysterious subject of your night recollections is.

Mildly shaking your head, you made your way towards your antique writing desk situated near a large bay window, overlooking the well-manicured gardens outside. The scent of freshly picked flowers finally distracted you from your musings, mingling with the aroma of polished wood. Carefully arranged, your flower vase was strategically placed beside an assortment of your night study essentials - an inkwell, quill pen, notepad, a hardbound copy of Atlas of Ancient Egpyt, and a work laptop with multiple tabs open.

Against one wall, a towering bookshelf houses an impressive collection of leather-bound tomes, each one a testament to your intellectual pursuits. You returned the hardbound copy of Atlas of Ancient Egpyt to its previous resting place, vowing to return to it after your overseas assignment. That book was an essential to you since you work full time as a museum curator for the British Museum. Back then, that career path wasn’t meant for your gender in the olden age. But as the world changes with time and equality between sexes have been more embraced, you found yourself living your life long passion of promoting cultural heritage and ancestral discovery.

Typing away at your laptop, you’ve mostly dealt with a lot of email exchanges involving procurement and acquisition of artifacts, record keeping and liaising with Egyptologists for the upcoming Ennead exhibition you’re organizing. You have already let most of your recent business contacts know that you’re on overseas leave, advising everyone to liaise with your secretary, Aleah Santos, in your absence.

A gentle knock on your door pulls you out of your reverie, your eyes now diverted towards the bedroom entrance. A middle-aged British man stands in the doorway with an air of quiet dignity, his appearance a testament to his impeccable service and professionalism. His face exudes an air of experience and reserve, befitting his role as the trusted steward of the household. He wears a perfectly tailored, immaculately pressed charcoal-gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a silk tie, and his salt-and-pepper hair was meticulously combed and styled to maintain a polished appearance.

His striking deep, intelligent blue eyes observed you quietly, framed by well-defined eyebrows that conveyed a sense of attentiveness. He was holding in one hand a tray with a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and a blueberry scone, and a neatly pressed and folded set of smart, business casual clothes in the other. The fabrics were chosen with care and tailored to perfection, a testament to the older man’s meticulous attention to detail.

“Bill, how lovely to see you this afternoon”, you smiled appreciatively before standing, slowly reaching for your wardrobe in his arms. “Thank you for bringing these”

"It's my pleasure, Lady Carter", Bill answered politely, his refined British accent adding to his aura of sophistication. William Jones, who you affectionately nicknamed “Bill”, is the latest addition in the long line of the Jones household who have served the Carter family for a very long time. As the new head of the family estate, the depth of his loyalty to you runs deep and unquestioned.

"I've taken the liberty of preparing your necessities for the trip”, Bill said with a warm smile as he followed you inside, placing the tray of refreshments on your desk. “You'll find your travel documents and essentials ready in your briefcase, and I’ve packed you a suitcase for the three-day trip”

“What would I ever do without you?” you chuckled playfully, grateful for his unwavering efficiency.

“Years of service have taught me well”, Bill chuckled softly. “Now, if I may, I’d like to go over your schedule for the week.”

“Go ahead, I’m all ears”, you nodded, finally taking your first sip of the afternoon tea prepared. It was nothing short of exquisite, the fragrant steam wafting up to greet your senses. “Impeccable brew as always, by the way”

"I’m glad you like the concoction, Milady”, Bill nodded before clearing his throat, proceeding to recite the details of your upcoming trip. “Your flight to Chicago is later this evening at 7PM, and I will be driving you to the airport three hours prior”

You nodded, mentally ticking off the items on your mental checklist, as he continued to consult his notes and brief you.

“Upon your arrival to the United States, a valet service will pick you up and take you to your hotel. I made reservations at the one within walking distance of the family court where your next interpreting assignment will be running for three days”

“That’s good to hear”, you nodded, taking a small bite of the scone. “Have my secretary check on the tour guide headcount at the British Museum and handle the recruitment interviews while I’m gone”

“Understood”, Bill said curtly, finishing up writing on his notes. He gave a small bow before leaving the room. With his departure, you set to work on packing your travel essentials for your upcoming assignment.

The routine of operating as a freelance interpreter was familiar, accepting potential clients needing your services regardless of location. You cater mostly to the Filipino community, as it helped you fulfill your duties as Mayari’s avatar - to oversee, guide and protect her travelers of the night. Of all the careers you dabbled in your long life on this earth, being an interpreter and a museum curator were one of the very few roles you’ve had that you took immense pride in. Both navigated the complexities of language and history, bridging the gap between cultures and individuals.

The next morning after your arrival in the United States, the Chicago sun greeted you as you stepped out of your hotel room and into the bustling city streets. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted from a nearby café, tempting you, but duty called.

You found yourself before the imposing building of the Chicago Family Court in Cook County. It was a massive edifice of imposing architecture, and its walls seemed to resonate with the stories of countless families and their struggles. On your way to the court registry, you navigated the maze of hallways with purposeful steps. The walls were painted in muted tones, and the faint hum of conversation filled the air. Lawyers in tailored suits, stern-faced judges, and anxious family members all found their places. The court clerk finally checked you in after having you sign the log book, advising you of your assigned courtroom for your scheduled appointment.

You walked into the assigned courtroom, the polished wood of the benches and the imposing judge's bench before you. The judge’s gaze met yours as you approached the witness stand, acknowledging your presence as he had you sworn in. He instructed you to raise your right hand as you recited your oath, a solemn promise to faithfully and impartially interpret the proceedings for those who needed it.

“Thank you, Interpreter”, the judge nodded, your duty now officially recognized. “Please introduce yourself to the courtroom for the record”

“Yes, Your Honor”, you greeted in a clear, unwavering voice. “Good morning. My name is Mira Batala-Carter, and I will be serving as the Tagalog/Filipino interpreter for the witness in the stand”

The court proceedings began, and your voice filled the room as you translated the witness's testimony. You moved seamlessly between languages, ensuring that justice prevailed, one word at a time. The judge and attorneys watched you closely, appreciating your precision and dedication.

After the session concluded, you extended a hand to the witness, a kind-hearted woman who had been through a trying experience. She thanked you for your services, her eyes conveying a profound gratitude that words could not fully capture. As she left your presence, you muttered a silent prayer to your patron goddess, fulfilling your role as her avatar as you invoked a simple protection spell.

“Patnubayan mo ang guhit ng kanyang kapalaran, aking diwatang Mayari”

Guide the lines of her fate, my goddess Mayari.

As the proceedings unfolded over the next three days, you found yourself immersed in the world of legal battles, translating the words and emotions of those caught in the intricate web of the justice system. It was a demanding role, one that required not just linguistic proficiency, but also an acute understanding of human nature and the ability to convey the nuances of speech. Legal jargon and emotional testimonies flowed through you, and you remained resolute in your duty as an interpreter.

You arrived early on the last day of your interpreting assignment, finally giving in to your caffeine cravings as you clutch a cup of steaming coffee to ward off the chilly Chicago morning. You took a seat in the hallway, waiting outside the assigned courtroom. As you sipped your cappuccino and glanced around, your eyes landed on a man slouched on one of the benches, clearly taking a nap.

His face stirred a memory, one that danced tantalizingly out of reach. Yet you couldn't quite place where you had seen him before. He had a rugged handsomeness, an aura of enigmatic mystery that drew you in.

The man's companion, a woman of Arabic-Egyptian descent with a cascade of curly, dark hair, approached him, carrying a steaming cup of coffee. She leaned down, her concern etched on her face as she gently nudged him awake. She whispered something to him, and he stirred, blinking his eyes open.

Your heart clenched as you witnessed the tenderness in their interaction. The way their eyes met with shared history and unspoken understanding prompted a deluge of memories to flood your mind, unbidden and unexpected.

Like ghosts from the past, you heard sounds of laughter and shared secrets echoing inside your head. Your lips trembled as they seemingly remembered the tenderness of breathless kisses stolen beneath the moonlit sky. The details eluded you, but the emotions were vivid—joy, love, and a sense of belonging.

But as swiftly as those memories resurfaced, they slipped away like sand through your fingers, leaving you with an ache of longing and confusion.

Who was this man, and why did his presence stir such deep-seated emotions within you?

Before you could delve further into your thoughts, a call from Bill interrupted your reverie. You reached for your phone, the jarring ringtone pulling you back to reality.

"Lady Carter," Bill's voice came through the receiver, crisp and professional. "I have an important update from Miss Santos. We are still missing one more tour guide from the total headcount you require for the upcoming exhibition"

“Copy that”, you nodded. “Please have her finalize the applicants I’ll need to interview on Saturday”

As you hung up the phone, a court clerk emerged to announce that the morning proceedings will now begin. Finishing the rest of your coffee, you threw the empty cup at the nearby bin before entering the courtroom once more to complete the final leg of your interpreting assignment.

Unbeknownst to you, Mayari, the patron goddess of the moon, quietly observed from a distance as her ethereal, astral form shimmered from afar. Her eyes, filled with a sorrow you had never seen before, remained fixed on you as she recalled the most grievous of her sins—removing your image of Darius Carter and your memories of the events that had bound you to Khonshu's avatar, Moon Knight. She had acted with what she believed was your best interest at heart, but now, as she watched the remnants of your forgotten past resurface, doubt crept into her heart.

Mayari was determined to see her decision through to the end, to protect you from the darkness that lurked in the shadows. Yet, as she gazed upon the unfolding drama, the lines between right and wrong blurred, and the weight of her choices pressed upon her.

“Mr and Mrs Spector, please come to the front”

END OF CHAPTER ONE.

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petri808 · 10 months

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A birthday smut fic for my first fan and now friend since 2017. Enjoy you slut lol @random-rave

*note takes place after latest manga chapters

While Loid finishes fixing his shirt cuffs, he reminds Yor about his plans. “I should be back before next week from the psychology conference. You’re sure you’ll be fine with Anya, or I can ask Frankie to babysit.” These longer missions of more than a day or two are starting to get under his skin. He suspects but won’t accept why and pushes on with his job.

“I’ll be totally fine. It’s only four days,” Yor smiles and helps him put on and button his suit jacket. Then she hands him his small suitcase. “Enjoy the conference, Loid.”

“It’ll likely be boring, but I’ll try,” he laughs and waves as he walks out the door.

It’s perfect timing for Yor that Loid must fly to another country for a conference because she too has something to do. Unbeknownst to him, she’s arranged for Anya to spend the weekend at Becky Blackwell’s home, so that’ll give her plenty of time to get where she needs to go and back home in time to pick Anya up. She doesn’t feel great about lying to Loid and Anya, and it tore at her a bit, but she also can’t turn Garden down because of the debt she believes she owes them.

Shopkeeper gives her the details of the mission, to slip into a home on the outskirts of the city and detain a subject believed to be trading in some kind of black-market goods. That’s all he’ll say, but here’s the strange part. Shopkeeper drills into her that when she arrives at the home at the pre-determined time, take whoever she encounters. When she asks for a better description, he responds the subject often changes his appearances, so they waited for intelligence to pin down where and when he’ll be somewhere to increase the chance of catching him.

“The subject is male, and approximately 6 feet tall, on the thinner rather than heavier set side. Now remember,” Shopkeeper repeats, “Be at the location, in the bedroom by 2 o’clock am and grab the first person that shows up. It’ll be him.”

So, the male subject is about the same height and frame build as Loid, Yor notes. Isn’t it crazy how the subject’s description can easily describe Loid, she thinks to herself. ‘Idiot,’ she scolds, that’s plain silly because it also describes a lot of other people in Ostania. This person sounds like a spy or at least a shady character if they’re often hiding their appearance, ‘and that’s definitely not Loid,’ Yor thinks to herself. Loid’s a popular doctor at the hospital and frankly she would notice if he was slipping out at odd hours or do black market dealings.

The time has come, and Yor arrives at the location two hours earlier to scope it out. It’s an unassuming home, off whitish two-story with a dark-colored roof and a fenced yard. Even the neighborhood is made up of regular citizens. There is an open carport attached on the left-side of the building, curiously with no evidence of a car ever using it such as demarcations, old oil, grease, or rubber staining the concrete floor. The open-grass landscaping is kept nicely trimmed. After checking the surrounding area, she goes inside where it is pitch black because the streetlights illuminating the sidewalk are blocked by curtains, and dead silence, not even the hum of a refrigerator. In the home’s layout, the staircase is against the left side wall opposite the carport outside, and instead of an open banister design, a wall covers the underneath portion to create a closet and raises up seamlessly into a handrail support for the stairs. She doesn’t sense anything amiss so far and creeps upstairs towards the bedroom, noting the layout for an escape route as she moves. There’s a utility room, kitchen, half-bath, living room, and a dining room downstairs, while upstairs has three bedrooms, one slightly bigger than the others, and a single bathroom. Yor notes the sparse furnishings in the home, surmising it is just a facade. Since she didn’t find anything to suggest it, the place appears to be normal building. The sound of a dog barking a short distance away puts Yor in ready mode. Only a few more minutes left as she hunkers down in place.

Tick, tock… Tick, tock… Tick, tock… in the silent room, Yor’s biological clock counts down, hyper in tuned to the slightest sounds, her heart beating, to the crickets chirping outside. She hears metal sliding, perhaps a knob, then a hinge from a door opening then closing. Then sees the faint light of the downstairs living room peeking into the bedrooms open door. He’s here. More sounds comparable to moving around comfortably in a familiar place. The faint shifting wisp from looking out a curtain. A faint soft squish of a cushion being compressed indicating he’s sitting in the one single chair instead of the couch. A click of possibly an attaché case and the rustling of papers. Now that she knows his whereabouts, Yor creeps down the stairs planning on surprising the guy from behind to knock him out. She moves as carefully as she can on the wooden stairs, realizing any step could create a sound at any moment. So far, so good, Yor doesn’t hear any indications that the subject has moved from the chair. When she gets to the v point, she is no longer protected by a complete wall because the handrail portion begins. So, she stops to scope out the room and peaks.

A loud bang— a bullet wizzes’ mere centimeters past Yor’s face and strikes the wall. Damn it! Yor pops up ready to vault over the handrail when she hears a familiar voice. Thinking it’s Loid, she steps out of the shadows to see a tall male with a similar build, but this man has brown hair and a mustache. Shit! Yor ducks down again, what is she thinking being so stupidly reckless like that! Just because he sounds like Loid, idiot she scolds herself, she could’ve been shot! Why is Loid’s voice the first to come to mind anyway as if he’d be here? ‘Get it together!’ she snaps at herself.

“Yor?” That familiar voice calls out.

‘How does he know my name?! And why isn’t he doing anything?! Wait and me?! Why am I hesitating?! Damn it! Damn it!’ Yor adjusts her grips on her thorns and in one fail swoop jumps up, vaults over the rail, and lands beside the couch in the living room.

With less than ten feet between them, it’s a tense few seconds. “Wait!” The voice calls out, but Yor is determined to do her job and lunges at him. “Damn it!” He yells as he throws a lamp from a table next to him, but she sidesteps it and swings a thorn at his head forcing him to duck and lean back to avoid it. He tries to grab her thorn while leaning to no avail, but can slap it away, spin slowly, and use natural velocity to also push her arm and step past her to get away. Facing off as she stands with her thorns raised and ready to move, he tries one last time by holding up his hands. “Yor!” He rips off his wig and fake mustache. “It’s me!”

Her ruby eyes almost flash as they widen in shock. “L-Loid?” Yor is genuinely stunned causing her arms to lower unconsciously. “It can’t be…”

“It is me!” Loid pleads… yet ‘why am I hesitating. My mission was to secure the subject found in this location. I don’t know why Yor is here, but if she’s the Thorn Princess, she’s on a mission of her own. Stop it!’ His conscious snaps. ‘Forget the mission for now idiot! It’s obvious why you’re hesitating!’ Ever since the Wheeler spy mission Loid had to face the fact his affections for Yor are no longer platonic. She and Anya have become a real family in his heart. He’d become a spy to protect and keep families like this one from suffering like he had and so, to deny and destroy this little Forger family would be contrary to his convictions and beliefs. He thought he could simply bury the feelings and carry on. If nothing was ever brought to light by the end of the mission, he would simply pursue her naturally. Well, now the quandary is, does he give in to his heart or stay loyal to the mission?

Yor shakes her head, this must be one of the subject’s tactics she was warned about! And the fact this guy is using her husband’s face flips her wrath button. “They warned me about the appearance changes, so I know you’re a fake!” She screams with a bloodlust oozing from her tone. Narrowing her gaze, she levels a thorn in his direction. “How dare you use my beloved husband for your twisted games!” And launches at him like a chained tiger that hasn’t had a meal in ages.

With blow after blow coming his way, there’s no time for Loid to process any of this, but that doesn’t stop his mind from replaying the words ‘beloved husband’ over and over again. The thing is, he knows that at full performance he’s no match for Yor and it’s obvious she doesn’t yet believe him. But that means those two simple words are the key. He needs to find the lock and convince her quick before she really does take him out. “I’m sure they told you be suspicious, but Yor, I swear, it’s me Loid!” During a moment of deadlock, he drops the gun in a display of truth, refusing to use it on her.

“Liar!” Yor screams.

When Yor turns her head, ‘did I just see a quick sparkle in her eyes from tears?’ Loid wonders. “You asked me to not be so perfect, well here I am, imperfect, a spy who’d just destroyed his mission. Is that not enough?”

“Lies!” She screams again, but this time the tears are fully evident as a few spills down her cheek. Yor presses forward again, the faster she ends this, the faster she stops this fraudulent pain. She swings her thorn at his face, but he moves quick enough that she ends up slashing his chest instead. The man makes a hiss-like sound and covers his chest, touching and revealing the damage on his red-stained hand. She could see it cut through about seven inches across the upper center while the torn fabric of the man’s shirt and jacket flap open to show a painful but not deadly strike… But it’s enough to make Yor think twice. Maybe it’s because of the Loid face, because her instant reaction is as if came home injured. “Oh, no!” She drops the thorns and starts to reach out to help him, and she almost succeeds when she snaps out of it. She moves back a few steps, forgetting to pick up her thorns in the process. Her mind is just reeling. What if this is Loid, can she complete the job and kill him? Or will she choose to stay loyal to the Garden? And it’s not just about Loid, what about Anya? She can’t, just can’t hurt this child who’s become, real or not, her daughter.

The reason Yor continues to do this gruesome job is to stop children from becoming orphans, so how could she live with herself after turning Anya into one? Wait! ‘He’s fake, he’s fake! You’ll protect Anya by stopping him!’ “I won’t let you trick me!”

“I’m not!” Loid yells as he throws his arms up to block a punch to his face. But this time Yor appears to be tuning him out and hyper focusing on the fight as she throws punches, straight jabs, and kicks at a pace that he can barely keep up with. It’s just like the mock fight at the fake castle where Yor was winning and if she hadn’t knocked out, he would have been the one ending up on the ground out cold. For every four or five jousting strikes from Yor, Loid will get in one punch or maybe a kick. He doesn’t want to actually hurt her, just keep her from hurting him too badly. Her internal turmoil is evident by the tears she sheds despite her unrelenting blows. “Remember the night I asked you to marry me, and I lost the ring because of those bad men?” Even having to psychologically manipulate Yor hurts Loid, but he knows he cannot stop. “How about the first time I met your brother? Remember when we almost kissed but Yuri stopped us? Or that day in the park when you knocked me out and I woke up sleeping on your lap?” He manages to bear hug Yor from the back briefly. “Yor please! I… I‘ve fallen in love with you!”

Yor breaks free from his grip and knocks him backwards by jamming her elbows into his abdomen. She spins around fuming and crying. “See, fake! Loid doesn’t love me, it’s just for Anya! You bastard!” She makes a move and grabs one of her thorns.

The genuine tears tell Loid Yor is at the breaking point. As soon as she grabs the thorn and plants her stance ready to rush him again, Loid does the only thing left he can think of. He drops to his knees with his hands up in concession, his head lower and shoulders slump in defeat. Surprisingly, it works immediately and Yor stops. He exhales loudly with genuine exhaustion and pain. “I tried so hard to deny that I’ve fallen for you, even when it’s right in front of my face. But for the first time since the war took my parents, something other than stopping another one finally took precedence.” Loid looks up with a genuine half-smile and tears streaming down his cheeks too. “You and Anya have become the family I lost. I lost one, just like you and Yuri, and I don’t want to lose another.”

“H-How are you so sure?” Yor’s heart is wavering, and mind is spinning. She tries so hard to ignore his words, these feelings roiling inside of her and do her job, but how can she? The longer she fights, those words circle around, and becomes twice as painful. Her own jabs cutting her deeply instead.

“More and more my resolve started cracking. I made mistakes or was distracted in ways that never happened before. Heh… Unyielding loyalty and emotional numbness… It’s how I became Twilight,” Loid shrugs. “I don’t regret it. I want to protect people, but…” He looks up with a genuinely tired smile, “guess the hearts something no one can control forever. I’d start thinking about you during the day, sometimes catch myself looking at you, but the final evidence… remember the night I came home when you asked me to let you help me, then Yuri came barging in? Well, that day he and I in disguise were after the same person and there came a point after he’d shot me in the arm, I hesitated to shoot back because I didn’t want to hurt you, so I just knocked him out and got out of there...”

A clanging sound causes Loid to look up. Yor has dropped the thorn, her body is shaking, she’s quietly sobbing, almost catatonic. He instantly stumbles to his feet to catch her as she sways, gently pulling her down with him into a seated position in his lap. “It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay,” Loid coos, hugging her tightly, resting his face to hers while soothing, smoothing his hand up and down her back with gentle pressure as their salty wet cheeks stick together.

“I can’t do it,” Yor blubbers, “I can’t, not to Anya… I love you both too much! I’m a failure!”

“Yor,” he clasps her cheeks and forces her to look at him. “You are not a failure!” Loid shakes her, “Yor you are perfect! Look at how great of a mother you are to Anya and a sister to Yuri! They couldn’t be luckier to have you, and neither can I! I’m glad for that chance encounter at the tailors, because I couldn’t have chosen a better wife and mother to create a family with!”

“You-You really think so?” The absolute hope in her eyes… Her ruby gaze sparkling from all the moisture.

Loid smiles and caresses her cheek. “Even Yuri would have to agree with me.” Yor snorts a laugh at his choice of words, finally showing a glimmer of light. He laughs too as he cups and gently thumbs her cheek, keeping their eyes locked while leaning in. “You’re so beautiful…” he murmurs, with bated breath, their eyes closing slowly until the pressure of their lips seals the moment.

For once, neither are nervous or scared for the long overdue and dormant awakening of such a powerful emotional synergy like love refuses to allow reason any chance to halt this beautifully passionate moment. Yor’s soft, sultry lips against his, short circuits the fastidious Twilight into a different sort of mission. He’s slept with countless women as part of his job, just going through the motions in a dispassionate manner— so, to make love to someone he cares for finally takes his virginity. Even their battle itself, the adrenaline rush of physical combat still runs through their veins. He’s always been amazed by Yor’s strength and physical fighting capabilities that meets and exceeds his own, making her his perfect match in every way. Frankly, it stirs more than just his heart as his primal side cannot ignore the thought anymore of her thighs cinched around him.

In a slow, fluid motion, Loid guides Yor into a supine position on the carpet, soothing away her reactive tension by pressuring his kisses and threading his fingers through her hair close to the scalp, and supporting her head in his hand. He lies beside her on his side with a leg stationed between hers as support, so she doesn’t feel trapped yet and reacts because he knows she doesn’t have any experience in this field. “Does this feel okay?” Loid quietly questions between the heated kisses, “should I stop?”

Oh, Yor feels the hard subject of this act pressing against her, yet she shakes her head ‘no’ whole heartedly without thinking of the answer. She’s spent her whole life caring for her brother and being an assassin, but she’s still a woman who feels biological urges. The girls at work often spoke of this topic and Yor will just nod along or feel embarrassed just listening, yet curious. “I-I want this too…” She blushes and hides her gaze, “but I don’t know what to do.”

“Just like learning to fight,” he chuckles and places more amorous kisses. “I’ll lead, you follow.”

A look of happy relief floods Yor’s expression. “O-Okay! I trust you.”

Those three words… Loid pauses briefly from it because he knows she means it, but after just having learned they were enemies, it’s still a surprise to say it so easily. His eyes soften, almost tearing. “I trust you too.”

He sits up and removes his jacket and shirt, bringing a bright flush to Yor’s cheeks. It’s not the first time she’s seen his chest, but it is the first time she’s really seen his chest in that way. She sits up as well and after Loid helps to unzip the back of her dress, she slips everything off until nothing is left. Now it’s his turn to blush since it is the first time ever seeing her like this. Loid unconsciously sucks in a breath of air to relieve the lack of oxygen to his brain, and at the same time a “wow” slips out causing Yor to hide her body with her arms. So, he quickly finishes removing the rest of his clothes before the embarrassment changes her mind. On the flip side of this duo, when Yor sees everything, he has to offer, her eyes widen and stares at Loid with the look of a lioness eyeing a fresh piece of meat. Something inside of Loid snaps. With a partial growl, from seated on his haunches, he suddenly grabs Yor by the waist and pulls her over and onto, straddling his lap.

She squeaks in surprise from the move, gasping when the feel of his hard and fleshy cock presses dead center to her folds. Her arms wrap around his neck instinctively to keep from falling, but between his left hand and his thighs holding her up from her rump, Yor is securely in place. She’s given no time to process, as Loid’s mouth latches onto her right nape, trailing pecks and sucking gently but firmly along the skin of her shoulder and back. Only fevered moans break free from her, and thighs clamping tighter around his waist, pressing, and rubbing, fueling the smoldering burn in her core.

Loid continues his oral ministrations, leaning back while using his thighs to raise her up and arch her back, his right-hand assists and guides her voluminous breasts within range. His tongue licks and pulses, pressures and sucks at the supple skin leaving pin-prick hemorrhages and future bruises, while his teeth graze the nipples to pull shuddering shivers and high-pitched moans that are music to his ears. There’s a throbbing ache ever present to remind him other parts want to play too, but with this being such a special time, there’s no way he’s rushing it. Yor isn’t making it any easier on him. The longer he toys and teases, the harder her hips start grinding in desperation. So, he changes tactics. Without warning, Loid puts Yor on her back startling and causing her legs to release their grip. He quickly shifts into a semi prone position, lifting her hips, hiking her legs over his shoulders, and diving in between her thighs to dine out. It happens so fast, all Yor can do is gasp and cry out a lustful moan that sends a shiver racing along his spine.

The sounds of a salaciously wet dining experience melding with Yor’s breathy mewls and erotic moans fill the air. It’s like nothing she’s ever experienced before. Even the high of taking out some really bad men never gave her this much of a rush! Heaven help her, when Loid sucks hard on her clit, the stars flash and dance behind her eye lids, but when his teeth graze them… wow, the intense electrical shocks rippling through her body are sending her to the moon. “Loid!” Yor springs up onto her elbows in shock as his tongue pushes into her entrance, but quickly flops back with an arch to her back when his mouth forms a vacuum seal and the pressure along with him violating her hole becomes too much. “Loid!!” She cries out again, fueling him to push his tongue harder and faster to stimulate this area rich in nerve-endings. The aching, burning coil building within the pit of her stomach is too tight… Yor doesn’t know what this really means, but it’s taking away any power she has to control her actions. His name forms on her lips but cuts off before it can come out when a sense of an explosive force rips through her entire body.

Loid braces as Yor’s thighs clamp down violently on his head. Her whole body locks up in a low bridge for a few seconds before collapsing into shivering convulsions from the orgasm. Her amorous cries fill the room like a beautiful serenade— the most beautiful music he’s ever heard. He holds fast, using his hands to hold her thighs and hips down as best he can contrary to her inhuman strength while slowing down on his tongue tirade to bring her back down to earth. When he feels her starting to relax, he lets her body slip back onto the carpet a heavy breathing sheen of a mess.

At that moment, Loid slides up and partially to the side of her body, propping himself on his elbows briefly, leaning in to sweep up her lips and kiss some of the sweat away from her brow. She smiles at him after he kisses her lips. “Did you enjoy that?” She nods ‘yes.’ “Good, part two now,” he grins.

“Huh?” Her eyes pop open wide. It’s not over?

Yor’s eyes track his every move while he slips between her thighs, sits back on his haunches, and lines up. She bites her lip and breathing hitches as she feels the stretching pressure from Loids cock forcing its way through. No pain, just a tingling sensation left from her still sensitive core that causes her to shiver. As she stares up at his solid frame, her eyes moving over old battle scars, Yor’s heart skips a beat at the feeling of being joined to this man. Each slight movement he makes reinforcing that physical connection. She blushes a bit when she catches him staring down at her with the same indecency in his gaze. If sex always feels like this, she’s been missing out on so much!

With her pinned hair now mussed and errant strands framing her head, Loid can’t help but feel proud of catching this deadly angel all for himself. Part of him wants to ravage her body and soul, but not tonight. Enough of the heated exchanges, this is the first time he’s ever wanted to make love to a woman… and mean it. He moves into a mostly prone position, left leg extended back, with the right still based on the knee for leverage. He then guides her left leg up and coaxes it to hook behind his thigh, gripping and pulling her hip and pelvis tightly to his. The deep penetration and friction from skin rubbing against skin causes Yor to gasp a little with a shiver. Loid finally leans in, his left elbow bearing his weight, allowing his chest to settle over hers and head come to rest beside hers. He suckles at her neck while grinding and thrusting, starting off slow and steady, using the pressure and friction of their skin to heat things up. Through measured undulations— repetitive grinding that pulls mewling purrs, interspliced with a sudden longer length thrust that makes Yor whine or squeak from the deep hit. Repeating, Loid pays close attention to what gains the most rewards to service his princess in the way she deserves. This feels absolutely amazing… but it also means that Loid is hastening his own demise quickly with this position. When he feels the rising tide get too high, he changes positions slightly with both legs extending and slows down, shifting to less grinding and longer, deeper thrusts. He grips her hip to hold it from moving then pounds into her.

Yor tightens her hook around his thigh, and grips to the back of his neck as well to make sure it goes in nice and deep. She’s loving this more than the grinding and wants to make sure she communicates her desires loud and clear. Each time Loid tries to slow down, she uses her powerful thigh muscles to pull him back to her. While it feels amazing to her, Yor’s aim is to make sure he’s satisfied too, not just her… whether he likes it or not!

“Y-You’re gonna make me…” Loid grunts and grits his teeth as he holds back the dam. If Yor keeps this up…

“Don’t stop…” she whines, “don’t stop…” Whether she realizes it or not, her inner muscles are doubly squeezing his engorged cock to its straining point with each tightening of her thighs.

His thrusts grow haggard and uncontrolled, breathing labored as his straining voice raises an octave… “Yor…” Loid squeezes his eyes shut when the pressure erupts, continuing to plow through the pulsing stream.

When it finally slows, his body slumps while his breathing evens out. He kisses her lips and wraps his arms around her body, rolling them both into a side position where he curls their hips to stay connected. “Yor… I love you,” Loid whispers. Love sure makes sex feel even more amazing.

“I love you too, Loid.” She rests her forehead to his, “But what am I going to do? Garden will expect a dead body.”

Loid thinks for a moment. It’s true they can’t compromise Yor’s standing with the Garden because that could cause more problems. “So, we’ll give them a body,” he responds.

Yor sits up. “I don’t understand. How do we just find a dead body?”

Loid sits up as well. “I’ll take care of it.”

The clock is ticking to create a cover for this whole situation. Loid knows WISE is going to question about Yor learning of Loid’s Twilight persona and whether she can truly be trusted, but that’ll wait for now. He calls up a sleeping Frankie and tells him to bring a prisoner that’s locked up at WISE’s headquarters to the house using the underground access tunnels, making sure to request a tall and slim guy that’ll fit the stature of who Shopkeeper believes is Twilight. Frankie finally arrives around 4 am. Loid opens the door of the closet under the stairs, moves a couple boxes, then undoes a secret hatch in the floor. He then helps Frankie bring an unconscious man up a flight of stairs from a basement looking room; Loid’s got the man’s upper half while Frankie carries the legs. As soon as they get into the living room, Frankie drops the legs when he sees Yor standing there in her Thorn Princess garb.

“W-Wh-What?!” Frankie points at her. “Yor is the Thorn Princess! Wait, what went on—” he glances around the disheveled room with furniture upended or trashed. “Did you two fight?” His eyes get big as he now turns to Loid. “Was she supposed to kill you!”

Yor just smiles and waves not knowing what else to do.

“We’ll explain once we’re safe,” Loid scolds Frankie. “Right now, I just need to make sure Garden doesn’t suspect Yor of anything.”

“Ohhhh.” Frankie realizes. “Hence the body.”

The two men help Yor kill the man and make it look like he’s been in a fight with the legendary Thorn Princess. A few slashes from her thorns do the trick. As they work, Frankie can’t help but keep asking, so Loid and Yor answer, explaining what happened that night— minus the sex, and that yes, they come clean about their feelings. Frankie teases Loid that it’s a good thing, because he didn’t have a chance against Thorn Princess, which made Yor blush fiercely and try to undermine her abilities. Of course, Loid tries to save face, but he does admit Yor is stronger than him. Finally, everything’s set. Body is staged. And the sun is going to rise very soon, so it’s time to go. Yor will slip out like she’d planned to originally, while Loid and Frankie will use the escape tunnel. Just as they’re about to go their separate ways, Loid gives Yor a kiss.

Frankie who’s halfway down the steps and can still see everything— “Ugh, you’re gonna talk about her even more now to tease me,” he sneers though there’s no malice to his tone. “Hurry up and let’s go!”

While Yor blushes from the comment, Loid just ignores the man and gives her one last grinning peck on the cheek. “See you at home.”

#twiyor #twiyor smut #twiyor fan fiction #spy x family #loid forger #yor forger

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