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projectionistwrites · 1 year

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moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

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

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

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

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

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

imploding the mirage — the killers

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

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

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

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

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

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

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

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

“Jesus Christ!”

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

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

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

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

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

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

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned.

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

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course Steven made you.”

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

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

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

“Do you mind if I—”

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

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

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

“Fuck, Marc.”

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

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

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

“Shit, I—sorry.”

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

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

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

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

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

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

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

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to tell them?”

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

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

“No.”

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

“What?”

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

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why won’t you tell me?”

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

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

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

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

“But what about how you feel?”

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

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

Anger flared within you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

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

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

“What if he breaks my heart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“G’mornin’, darling.”

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

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“G’mornin’, darling.”

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

“Steven! Shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Thanks.”

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

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

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

“There we are—good as new.”

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

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

“Bon apétit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

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

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

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

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

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

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

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

She’s lying.

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

And how do you know that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if this was from his latest mission?

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

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

“Where is it?”

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

“I told you. I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I just wasn’t alone.”

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

“Looking for this?”

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

“Marc. I mean it.”

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

“Yeah, I know.”

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

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

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

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

“Wake up, little star.”

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

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

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

“Wake up!”

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

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

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

“Marc?”

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

“Drink.”

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

“I—what happened?”

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

“What do you remember?”

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

“Was I kidnapped?”

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

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

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

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

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

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

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

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

“Stop!”

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

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

“You don’t think I know that?”

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

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

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

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

“What did you just say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

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

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

“See you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—what?”

“I—”

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

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

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

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

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

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

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

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

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

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

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

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

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

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

Marc’s brows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

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

“It’s just not true.”

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

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

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

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

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

“Sorry.”

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

“What were you thinking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait—wait.”

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

“I just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

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

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

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

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

“You want my cum, baby?”

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

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

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

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

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

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Told you so.”

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

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

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

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

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

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

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

“And you called me estrellita.”

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

“Estrellita?”

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

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

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

“What? What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

“He fucking what?”

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

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

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transformativeworks · 4 months

Note

Hello, I dont know if this is the right place for this but I have a question about ao3 terms of service.

Is it against ao3 policy to upload/post mood boards created via stock images along side fics? I have looked several places, and it seems like this is a gray area based on what i have found. I see other creators doing this and I would love to as well, but if its against tos I don't want to violate them.

Thank you for your time.

Hey Nonnie

Posting images is not against the TOS to my knowledge. In fact the FAQ has a whole section on how to embed images in fics.

You can post fanworks that contain text and/or embedded media. However, media types other than text can't currently be hosted by Archive of Our Own (AO3)—they will need to be uploaded to an external site first, and not all sites are supported. If your fanwork contains other media, you can use HTML to embed or link to the externally hosted file in an AO3 work.

In general your best place to direct questions about the AO3 TOS is the support form - where AO3 Support volunteers know all the policies best!

Hope this helps

~ Mod Remi

#mod remi #archive of our own #ao3 #please direct your ao3 policy questions to ao3 support #because they know all the things an i only moderate the tumblr account

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justmediocrewriting · 5 months

Note

Hi!! I don't know if your requests are open still, but could you do a luffy x reader fiction where she feels insecure sometimes at the fact that luffy didn't ask her to join the crew. The reader asked first out of desperation or excitement, and now sometimes wonders if she would have even been on the crew if she didn't approach first. And of course Luffy comforts her and makes her feel more secure about it.

Thank you!! 🦭

“Why wouldn’t I?” {m.d.l}

Summary: you’d never been one to second guess yourself — and you remained happy with your decision to ask the captain of the Straw Hats to take you on their seafaring journey — but in the last few days, you’d begun to feel more and more unsure of the decisions you’d made up until this point; namely because of the knowledge that Luffy had asked every other member of the crew to join, except you.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Luffy x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested: ✅

Warnings: brief depictions of insecurity

A/n: thank you so much for your request nonnie! My requests are always open; though getting them out in a timely matter is another thing entirely. You know, when I’d first started this blog, I expected all of my works to be about Sanji, but I’ve been writing for Luffy more and more — and to be honest, I kinda really like it 🤭

{=================================}

The atmosphere in the galley was calm; Sanji had retired for the night, but was confident enough to leave Luffy under your supervision within the room, and you in turn had offered to wash the rest of the dishes for him — the man was clearly exhausted, and if you could take some weight off of him, you were more than happy to.

Luffy was currently devouring some extra lamb legs that Sanji had generously told him he could eat, and the silence in the room was companionable — but the confines of your mind were not. Despite the calmness, your brain was a whirlwind of negative and impulsive thoughts.

It had been roughly three weeks since you’d asked to join the Strawhats, and truthfully, you wondered just how wanted you were.

Your askance was brought upon by sheer excitement; your humble little village never saw much action, seeing as it was tucked away on an island that was small enough to be a pebble. It was both a good and a bad thing — your village was never raided by terrible pirates, but it was definitely a bore, and the quaint little bakery you owned offered services to the same exact faces every day.

That was until they arrived; the infamous Strawhats and their captain. You’d recognized them the minute they’d walked in. Luffy was the easiest to recognize, as you’d seen his face plastered in the news before, bearing an ungodly bounty of thirty million berry. To say you were nervous in his presence was an understatement; given what had been told of the pirate, of his crew and their atrocious actions, you weren’t sure what he’d do, or what his intentions were. You were on the defensive immediately, one hand dropping below the counter to wrap around the barrel of the shotgun in case you needed to draw it.

But Luffy had simply approached the counter and gazed excitedly at the array of sweets displayed behind the glass container; and when he met your eyes with a wide smile and asked for one of every pastry, you felt your heart melt — the rubbery man was just too adorable for his own good, and despite the rumors that had been spread across the seas of his viciousness, you couldn’t help but relax in his presence, his exuberant and innocent aura immediately washing away every bad thing you’d heard about him.

Hundreds of pastries later and many tells of their adventures on the sea, you had come to a conclusion; you would ask to join his crew, to sail the seas with him, and find the legendary treasure, One Piece.

You weren’t sure why, but all of his tales and his excitement bled into you, and your heart began beating rapidly as you were overcome by the urge to experience exactly what he had — you wanted to feel that freedom, that excitement of adventure. At first when you asked, you weren’t sure if he’d even say yes; after all, you were just a small time baker barely scraping by on poor rations, and you had no experience at sea or on a boat whatsoever, and upon first look you didn’t exactly scream pirate.

But then again, neither did a good number of the crew.

You’d set sail with them just the next morning, without so much as bidding goodbye to any of the other villagers — there were plenty of other bakeries within the village, if you weren’t there to sell bread and pastries the inhabitants could get them elsewhere easily. You didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about leaving your village behind, though as time went on, you began to feel guilty about asking to join; not because you regretted your decision, but because you couldn’t help but feel as though you had burdened the crew somehow.

With no real skills to offer, you’d resorted to helping out in any way you could; scrubbing the deck, washing the dishes, helping Sanji with prep, doing laundry, fishing, recording stock, and every other odd job you could fit into your schedule. It had helped to alleviate some of your negativity, but when you’d learned the stories of how Nami, Zoro, Usopp and Sanji joined the crew, it all just flooded back into you — because obviously Luffy had seen something within them that made them worthy to be on his crew, so much so that he practically begged them to join.

So why were you on the crew?

You paused in your rinsing and cast a weary glance at your captain, who was completely oblivious to your inner agony, still digging into the lamb legs like a man starved. Your heart cinched within your chest, and you felt tears stinging at your eyes. Did Luffy even really want you here? Or did he just agree to bring you along because he felt sorry for you? You’d never had a good filter on your mouth, so that inward thought quickly became an outward question.

“Luffy, do you even want me here?” You wanted your voice to sound strong, to convey nonchalance or maybe even anger, but it came out muted and weak — all the insecurity and desperation that you tried so hard to keep shoved down bubbled up to saturate each and every word.

Luffy paused his chewing for only a moment, his brows furrowed ever so slightly, then, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “of course I do, (Y/N). Why wouldn’t I?”

You wanted to laugh, because his answer was just so Luffy, but you held in the sound because you just knew that it would come out choked and wet — the last thing you wanted was for Luffy to see the evidence of just how weak you are. If he didn’t want you to join in the first place, as you were sure was already the case even if his words opposed it, you knew that seeing you in such a state would only make his conviction grow.

You were silent for a long moment, the only noise being the backdrop of waves splashing against the hull of the Merry and the slightly wet smacks of Luffy’s chewing. Biting your lip, you briefly wondered if you should be honest with Luffy; that would be for the best, wouldn’t it? What was it that they say? Rip the bandaid off? With a heavy sigh you parted your lips to speak, but Luffy swallowed his bite loudly and cut you off.

“I mean, you’re a great baker. And you’re kind, compassionate, and you really care for everyone on the crew. You’re always asking if we’re okay, if we need anything, and any time one of us is feeling down, you always do your best to pick us up. You’re thoughtful, too; if you see something you think one of will like or if it reminds you of us, you get it for us. Like that time that you bought me that stuffed monkey from that town, because you said it reminded you of me.”

You were speechless — you weren’t even aware that Luffy had noticed that about you, and the more his words registered, the more your skin heated until you felt as if it would burst into flames. Luffy didn’t seem to have the same issue; he just continued to bite into the lamb leg as if what he’d just said didn’t just discombobulate you at the seams.

After fumbling for a few seconds you finally found your ability to speak. “I-it’s just… you didn’t ask me to join, like you did with everyone else.”

“Because you asked first,” Luffy said without missing a beat, the sunniest of smiles painted on his face, making your heart thump crazily within your chest as it tightened.

Warm smile still plastered on his face, Luffy placed his half eaten lamb leg on the plate with the rest (and some nearly clean bones) and slipped from the stool. Your heart sped up with each step Luffy took towards you, and by the time he was standing in front of you, you felt as if the organ would beat right out of your chest.

“I was going to ask you either way, (Y/N). I knew I wanted you on my crew from the moment I talked to you.”

Luffy’s hand reached out and gently plucked the plate from your grasp, dropping it into the soapy water with a soft thud that made you wince in sympathy for the fine ware. When your hand was empty, Luffy grabbed it in his own, and you swore your heart completely stopped in that instance. You wet your lips and glanced up at him shyly.

“Why? Why did you want me to join?” Your voice was soft, bashful, his words and close proximity making it nearly impossible to think — but his smile was so bright that it easily cut through the fog in your mind.

“Because I really like you! I want to eat your delicious pastries every day. And I want to sail the Grand Line with you, and find the One Piece together.”

You stared at Luffy with wide eyes, cheeks heating rapidly as you processed his words.

“L-Luffy, do you mean y-you—”

“Yes, I like you a lot, (Y/N).” Luffy cut you off, his hand squeezing yours tighter. “And I want you by my side. I’m sorry you ever thought differently. I promise you’ll never feel that way again.”

With those words Luffy pulled you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around you and pressing you flush against his lean body. Luffy was so warm, so open, so genuine, that you were helpless to do much else other than melt into his embrace.

You didn’t think you could love being on the sea more than you did, but Luffy just made it ten times better, and any and all regret you’d had previously was washed away like a stream to the sea.

#opla #opla x reader #opla luffy x reader

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writing-for-marvel · 2 years

Note

can you do something of steve rogers like you’ve both kinda had feelings for each other but never said anything and one day you went to go hang out with him and caught him jerking off 🫣

Nonnie, you like the idea of Steve jerking off thinking about you and moaning your name? Me too

At Your Service

Bodyguard!Steve Rogers x Diplomats Daughter!Fem!Reader

PART 2 > >

Summary: As your bodyguard it’s Steve’s job to look out for you, when you find him in a compromising position, it becomes your turn to look after him.

Warnings: strictly 18+ only, NSFW, masturbation, blowjob, dynamic where Steve is meant to be protecting reader and they catch feelings

Word count: 2.3k (I really did try to keep this short, oops)

A/N: thank you for this inspiration nonnie, I hope you enjoy 💙 banners by @maysdigitalarts

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

It was hard to sneak glances at someone whose job it was to literally watch your every move. But Steve Rogers was worth attempting to steal glances at.

Even when he wasn’t wearing the tight fitting tux he was currently donning to fit in with the smartly dressed crowd of high ranking officials and diplomats, your personal bodyguard Steve Rogers looked like a god carved from stone.

You had to will yourself not to continually stare at the man, but every now and again, you occasionally allowed yourself the selfish pleasure of a short glimpse.

And even though it was his job to keep you safe, to watch over you as if his life depended on it, it never failed to make your stomach flip and heart flutter to find him already looking at you.

Steve was always the first to assert that his detail of you was strictly business, purely a job to earn a living. Keeping you safe meant keeping his assignment.

But he could never quite mask the hint of tenderness in his eyes that only existed when he looked at you, and the anxious, desperate need to know you were safe when he lost you in a crowd for five seconds seemed to go well beyond his obligation as purely your bodyguard.

After a long night of shaking hands and faking smiles, all to please your father who only brought you along to give the appearance he was the charming, family man, you trudged from the large function room to your hotel room upstairs for a well deserved night's sleep.

As per protocol, your bodyguard had to perform a sweep of the room upon arrival, ensuring that everything was safe for your stay.

“Make sure you stay away from the windows-” Steve warns, closing the curtains even though it was pitch black in the cool night outside.

“Don’t make myself an easy target, I know.” You finish his sentence knowing his spiel word for word by now, prompting a bashful smile to curve on his lips. There’s a glint of pride in his eyes, as if he was never sure if you were ever listening to his security ramblings, but now knew for certain you had been.

An awkward silence fills the room as neither of you quite know how to bid each other goodnight. You didn’t want to remove the warm blanket of security Steve’s presence never fails to provide.

You always thanked him for his proficiency in protecting you. But a simple thank you didn’t even begin to cover the many ways in which you were grateful for him.

Steve wanted to tell you all night how beautiful he thought you looked, but you’d heard that same praise from every gentleman who greeted you tonight - it wasn’t exactly the refreshing compliment he needed to be able to convey just how much he adored you.

He knew how smart you were, how you could run rings around anyone in attendance this evening with your wit and intellect, and that your role as the good natured daughter was one you were far over qualified for. But you didn’t need an uneducated, glorified chaperone to tell you that.

If there was one thing Steve Rogers was certain about, it was that he would never be good enough for you. Only in his dreams did he deserve you.

So, instead of voicing aloud the continuous stream of praises he had overtime come to think of you, he settled for a simple “I’ll be right next door if you need me.”

“Thank you.” You want to sound more eloquent than the same words you always used to commend him after each of his assignments, but no string of words you could think of in this moment seemed to truly encapsulate how highly you regard him.

Being around him makes it hard to think.

So instead, you rise to your tiptoes, lean over and place a delicate kiss to his cheek. With flushed pink cheeks, Steve flashes you a kind smile before disappearing into the next room, taking your sense of security and your heart with him.

It takes you a couple minutes to escape the elaborate dress you’ve been wearing all day, but finally you’re able to breathe properly again. Putting on some sweats, you’re caught tossing between letting your tiredness consume you and going straight to bed, or if you should take some time to decompress and watch a movie.

However, it’s your name, muttered as a strained moan, which catches your attention as you’re trying to make up your mind.

At first you think you’re imagining it - it’s been a long day and you must be on the brink of delusion with exhaustion. Perhaps going straight to sleep is the best option.

But then you hear it again, coming from the door Steve walked through just minutes prior.

And that’s when you see it - the door slightly ajar.

When you hear your name again, and you know for a fact that it isn’t all in your imagination, your curiosity gets the better of you and you decide to take a quick peak before promising to shut the door.

But when your eyes land on Steve’s large figure sitting at the end of the bed, pumping his fist over the largest dick you’d ever seen and hearing your name cascade as moans from his lips, you know you can’t simply shut the door and let him continue by himself in the next room.

If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system from the couple glasses of wine you’d had at the event earlier in the night, you’re not sure you would’ve had the courage to pass the door threshold, but your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, driven by the desire between your legs.

Hearing your name more clearly once you enter his room gives you the boost of self confidence you need to make your presence known. It isn’t until you close the door behind you, the latch clicking, does Steve finally realise you’ve caught him in the act.

The tips of his cheekbones and ears blush bright red as he frantically stuffs his fully erect and leaking cock back into his pants, mumbling an incoherent mess of embarrassed apologies and profanities. His bright, sky blue eyes can’t quite meet yours directly as you approach him near the end of the bed.

“Don’t get shy on me now, Stevie.” You smile flirtatiously. He opens his mouth to apologise again, or perhaps to berate you for waking in on such a private moment, you’ll never know as you interrupt him before he can get a word out.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret-” You drop your voice and lean in closer so he’s able to feel your warm breath against his ear lobe, “I’ve gotten off to the thought of you too.”

The surprise in his eyes, which is also shown as a sharp intake of breath, is quickly drowned out by lust as he surges forward, large hands cupping your face as he kisses you passionately.

The feeling of his soft, plump lips moving against yours is better than anything you’ve ever dreamed of. As his tongue slips into your mouth, your hands roam down his toned body, searching for his thick cock you got a glimpse of earlier.

Before you’re able to get your hands on anything valuable, Steve breaks the kiss, shaking his head as he pulls away.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He states unconvincingly, feebly keeping you at arms length. The glaringly obvious erection in his pants contradicting his words. “My job is to protect you.” He tries to further justify, but he’s doing a terrible job at being convincing.

“So let me thank you for it.”

A timid chuckle is not the response you’re expecting, but there’s a conflict raging like a storm behind Steve’s eyes which you’re much more focussed on relieving. It takes him a moment to muster the courage to decide to speak on his turmoil.

“Princess, you mean a lot more to me than just a quick fuck.” His voice is shy, his eyes vulnerable, as if they are about to shatter like glass.

“Stevie…” There are feelings you’re unable to verbalise, that are left unsaid, only conveyed in a knowing, tender and affectionate glance. “Please, let me help you finish what you started.”

Steve gulps back the nervous lump in his throat before nodding his head. Those same wide, blue eyes that you’re so used to protectively watching over you now keenly observe your every movement as you push him back on the bed, sinking to your knees and tugging his pants down to his ankles by the belt loops.

Just like Steve himself, his dick is gloriously and deliciously large - heavy and exquisitely thick in the palm of your hand. His flushed red tip weeping precum has you licking your lips in anticipation, you can’t wait to finally taste him.

Though you’re unsure if your mouth is capable of taking all of his magnificent length, you’re always up for a challenge.

Placing a couple of teasing kisses to the soft, sensitive skin of the inside of his muscular thigh, moving closer to his twitching cock with each one, you look up at Steve to find his warm gaze watching you with a mixture of endearment and excited anticipation, prompting a surge of devotion to bloom in your chest.

You start by spreading his precum along his slit with your thumb. A tortured whine escapes Steve’s lips as you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, and with a smug smirk, knowing that you haven’t even begun the most pleasurable part of the experience, you swirl your tongue around his tip.

As you take him fully in your mouth for the first time, a strained gasp of your name falls past his lips, followed by a rumbling moan from the back of his throat. You keep pushing yourself further down his length, stretching your jaw as wide as it will go, wrapping your hand around what you can’t fit in your mouth.

Steve’s drawn out fuuccckkkkk as you hollow your cheeks and drag your mouth back up his member only spurs you on, determined to take every inch. Slowly swallowing his shaft until his tip hits the back of your throat, you continue the routine until you’re gagging on his entire dick, your throat exquisitely squeezing his tip, your nose nuzzles his pubes, and tears trickle from the corners of your eyes.

“Shit Princess, oh fuck, yes, just like that.” Steve’s hand finds the back of your head to keep you choking on his cock until you gently slap his thighs, the sign you need to pull away for air.

The saliva drooling from your mouth as you draw back makes Steve groan. With this lubrication, you start to pump his member, taking a second to catch your breath, but you’re already obsessed with the feel and taste of his thick cock in your mouth, so once you’re ready, you relax your jaw and begin devouring him again.

When you look up at him through your lashes, meeting his gaze as you sink further down him, the erotic sound he makes goes straight to your pussy, and you can feel the pool of wetness soaking through your panties.

When you start cupping and fondling his balls while simultaneously gagging on his cock, he throws his head back and you know he’s done for.

“Fuck, Princess.” Steve’s breathing is shallow and you can feel his balls start to contract under your light touch. “Please, I’m gonna cum.”

You can tell he’s expecting you to stop so you can tell him where you want him to cum on you.

But there’s not a chance.

You want to taste every part of him, and that includes every drop of his cum. You don’t ease up, continuing to suck the life out of him at a relenting pace until you feel his warm spend shooting to the back of your throat, before you finally give him some relief.

“Holy shit.” Steve sighs as he heaves for air, watching you show him the remainder of his climax on your tongue before swallowing in one gulp.

Even though you’ve just performed a lewd act, your chin covered with your own spittle and have the remnants of dried rivers of tears over your cheeks, originating from the corners of your eyes, Steve still looks at you with warmth and adoration.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asks before you even have the chance to catch your breath from how he’s looking at you. He chuckles at your surprise, before continuing with a smile. “I did say you meant more to me than just a quick fuck, and I meant it.”

You stand up from your position on your knees, never once breaking eye contact, before you lean in to kiss him. You’ve only had one taste, but you’re already addicted to him, needing your fix and wanting to get high on the taste of him any chance he gives you.

Once you’re again mesmerised by how his lips feel on yours, Steve’s phone starts ringing continuously on the bedside table. Reluctantly, he pulls away from you to check on it.

“Shit.” He swears under his breath as he quickly types and sends a message, punctuating it with a large sigh. “There’s been a security breach - I’m sorry but I have to go.” The severe disappointment in both his voice and his eyes makes you feel slightly better about his imminent departure.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He says, rushing to get his trousers back on, but making sure to stop his hurry to give you a sweet kiss before he leaves.

“I’m holding you to that.” You mumble against his lips before you watch him shrug on his tuxedo jacket and head out the door.

Part 2 > >

To be tagged in any potential additional instalments of this AU, please add yourself to the taglist here

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ttoddii · 3 months

Note

nsfw sub irene hcs pleek 🙇‍♀️

nsfw sub irene headcanons

pairing(s) – dom mean reader x sub bae joohyun

genre – smut, headcanons

warnings – MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI, oral sex (reader giving), fingering, bratty joohyun, pillow princess joohyun, overstimulation, messy description, lowercase intended, bad grammar, not proofread.

a/n – this is very sloppy, and i have to apologize for it before you read it ;-;. first request ever, thank you nonnie for sending this in, and i hope this is to your likings (i really do hope so cause i am not proud of this myself)

taglist (OPEN) – @missminho; @taniio; @vvsbada; @krissysays (comment under my posts to be add/remove)

⊹₊ ⋆ joohyun as a pillow princess in your shared bedroom, and the bratty type too.

⊹₊ ⋆ she could be all tough and strong outside of bed, taking care of you, but once you two are alone, she would be your baby, and you have to provide the service.

⊹₊ ⋆ she doesn't like rough treatment, she would like the soft intimate tender sex that would make her melt under every touch of yours. or at least, she pretend to not like the rough treatment.

⊹₊ ⋆ she is very demanding in bed, asking for you to kiss her, touch her, please her.

⊹₊ ⋆ "can't you do better? this is all you've got?"

⊹₊ ⋆ she would tease you, a bit too much, and it would end up with you ignoring her needs and do what you please.

⊹₊ ⋆ she doesn't seem to care how rough you treat her though, not with all the breathy moans, the whine, the quick breath she give you while she scratch your back, the way her hair would spread out as she hopelessly look at you.

⊹₊ ⋆ she is very sensitive, and easily overstimulate, so you could go at it for 2 rounds and she would already want to give up, her fuck out body is basically jelly as she let you do whatever you want with her.

⊹₊ ⋆ of course, it never end that easily, especially when she asked for it with how pretty her eyes look.

⊹₊ ⋆ she would have teary eyes while she look up at you, being overstimulate with how your fingers work its way in her cunt, your thumb circling her clit as your eyes stare intensely to hers because how can you not when she look so prettily undone by you.

⊹₊ ⋆ she is very vocal about how good she feels, moaning your name, whining, crying as you fuck her senselessly.

⊹₊ ⋆ she can't lie about how good she feels, especially not when her body squirm under your touch, she cannot stay still at all.

⊹₊ ⋆ she would get all shy when you tell her how good she's doing, a complete contradiction to her bratty behavior when she tease you at the beginning of your fucking session.

⊹₊ ⋆ she would expect some very nice aftercare from you when you two are done.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ bonus ~ !

"please, please no more", joohyun whine, her eyes teary as you look up at her.

your hands are placed on her thighs, spreading it apart as you work your way in between her legs. your tongue circling around her clit, somtimes flicking it at the tip of your tongue to tease her as she squirm, her legs closing on itself before you push it down to the bed again, forcing her to take the feeling from her core.

it's not long before she can't take it anymore, her back arch as her body shake violently from the overstimulation you gave. her hand raise up to block her face, hiding it from you as one of your hand press down softly to her lower belly, making her squirt as she moan loudly.

"you shouldn't hide your pretty face, darling. you're pretty when you cry", you said softly, chuckling as you move up from your position, lifting her hand out of the way to stare at her fucked out form.

joohyun is sniffling, her cheeks stained with tears as she look back at you. her hair spread out messily, you could see her chest rise up and down with how she try to pick up a steady breath. her body covered in her own sweat with how you had bullied her.

the bed sheet stained with joohyun's juice, and you smirk proudly at how she had been put in her place.

"now let's get you clean up"

#red velvet #red velvet x reader #red velvet irene #irene x reader #bae joohyun #joohyun x reader #irene smut #kpop gg #kpop smut #⟢ tod's chaos

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azulock · 6 months

Note

Hi!! I love your hcs and the way you capture the characters! Like the thing about kaiser with the tattoos (it reminded me that I actually have a rose tattoo on the back of my neck hahaha), or how Reo would definitely be a good boyfriend (just needs lots of reassurance and therapy..). Please can you do nsfw hcs for Reo?

Aaaaaaaawwww thank you nonnie I try my best to capture the characters <3 I'm a believer that Reo can recover his sanity with some love, a little therapy and getting away from Nagi, you can do better king. Also the tattoo thing, if that ain't the experience of having a tattoo where you can't see, I forget the one on my back all the time lol tho, a rose on your neck, yeah Kaiser would be very much into that. Anyway, here you go

reo mikage nsfw headcanons

⟳ A pleasure dom, a service dom, a man who can't sub cause he feels he needs to offer something to people to have any worth. The chance of making him sub isn't zero but it's pretty close. He likes to give pleasure more than anything, it helps fill his ego too when he sees you squirming and moaning because of him.

⟳ Praise kink, praise kink all the way. Will be praising you for anything and nothing at all. It delves into body worship too. He might be in control but he will be worshipping you all over. He won't ask for it in return but he'll fucking love it if you do, it's gonna make him feel fantastic.

⟳ Not very vocal, a bit shy about his own noises, but he still makes them, they are just low, he gets a bit louder when he gets close to orgasm tho. Besides he wants to focus on hearing your noises, so he will love it if you are very vocal. If you aren't don't worry, he might tease you a bit for being shy but he'll just take it as a reason to work extra hard to make you make more noises.

⟳ Loooooves getting marks on himself - prefers it if they aren't in very visible spots but he can deal with it. Oh please, bite him, scratch him, leave hickeys on his skin, anything. He looks at the marks like a trophy, a symbol that he did his job well. He's gonna leave some marks on you too but only on places that can't be see by others that easily, and not that many. Tho, if he knows you like marks too he's gonna leave more.

⟳ A guy with no rush, sure he can go multiple rounds if he ends up going fast, but he'd rather go for a slower and longer one. Likes to take his time to feel you entirely and to pleasure you completely. He wants to fuck you so right that your brain just resets - if you are the smart and capable type, he's gonna try to fuck you dumb, cause he knows it's tiring to be the smart one all the time and you can relax with him.

⟳ Likes giving oral more than receiving, to the point where he can forget himself - but please don't forget him, he deserves the pleasure. Will be praising you the whole time if you go down on him, that's probably the thing that would make him the most vocal. It's the best way to get him moaning and grunting and generally making sounds that are louder.

⟳ Likes intimacy, likes to see your face or to feel your body touching his, he just needs to feel you close, to feel you there with him. For that reason he loves cockwarming, having you that close to him is already blissful, don't even need to move. Loves to do it while you are watching a movie or lazying in bed together.

⟳ Reo is long, not the thickest - just thick enough to feel good but def long. It has a big curve up and it's thickest at the base. He is veiny tho, with a very thick vein on the underneath of his shaft. Also, he keeps himself shaved nice and clean.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage

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cambion-companion · 2 years

Note

Okay me is officially simping so I was wondering if you could do a one shot where aemonds betrothed is shy/innocent/short/ladylike (you catch my drift) is still kinda scared of him cause of his reputation but there is a feast ans he protects her from a handsy lord? And that breaks the ice

Thank you!!! Your writings are literally amazing

Of course, Nonny(s)! And thank you for that lovely compliment as well :3 And of course Sir Handsy is gonna be a Lannister because who else would it be lmao

Oh also so ya'll don't have to look it up "drab" is a medieval word for whore. :)

Word count: 1189

Aemond x f!reader | protective/angry Aemond | Shy reader

Betrothed to a dragon.

That’s not something a lot of ladies could say for themselves, and not a prospect that thrilled you overmuch. Rather, it petrified you. What was more, Aemond Targaryen was rumored to be a cold and coarse man, the socket of his left eye filled with ever burning flame. Naturally, you didn’t believe that last part, but it was still with nervous curiosity you observed the man you were destined to wed as he sat across from you at the dining table.

Upon first meeting, you had been taken aback by his appearance. From the gossip, you’d expected a deformed monster of a man…certainly not an appealingly angular face, prominent nose, curved lips and beautiful silky hair of the classic Targaryen silver.

Perhaps you’d blinked too many times in surprise as you greeted him, noticing the slight downturn of his mouth as he read your expression. His one remaining eye was a cool lilac color, unlike anything you’d seen before, while he had elected to wear an eyepatch over where his other eye had been.

“Lady Y/N.” He gave you a small, stiff bow.

You curtsied back, blushing and looking abashed at your feet. You’d offended him.

The welcome dinner that night had come swiftly, the darkening skies and cool breeze wafting the smell of many varieties of cooked foods throughout the Red Keep. There were other members of noble houses seated around you as you picked at your food, glancing occasionally toward Aemond who seemed to be studiously avoiding your gaze. His profile sure was a lovely thing to look at, as he raised a goblet of steaming mead to his lips, his hand was equally defined, long fingers grasping the pewter cup. Aemond’s eye flicked to meet your face, his expression unreadable as he lowered the drink, tapping the metal with a finger.

You quickly looked away, staring intently at your plate, before Alicent turned from her conversation with a member of the Tyrell family and engaged you in light banter. You were grateful for the distraction from her son, answering her questions while all too aware of Aemond still observing you from your periphery.

Music began to play and you rose from your seat, crossing to where more drink and desserts had been placed on several oaken tables. You grabbed a pitcher of dark wine, pouring yourself a generous helping, probably more than was strictly wise.

A light touch at the small of your back alerted you to the presence of a man dressed in gold and scarlet, his shoulder length hair falling loose in gold waves.

His eyes were a deep green as he appraised you, smiling. “Lady Y/N was it? I am afraid I was too far away to properly introduce myself. Tytos Lannister, at your service.”

His hand was still at your back, even after you’d tried to move away slightly. The discomfort must’ve been evident in your face, but he didn’t seem to notice, not that he was looking at your face to begin with.

The man leaned in close to you, the smell of strong drink upon his breath causing you to flinch away, trying unsuccessfully to distance yourself from his leering grin. To your dismay his grip upon your dress only tightened. “I can name several ways in which I would like to service you this evening, my lady.”

“I can name several ways in which you don’t leave this room with all of your limbs.”

A smooth, velvet voice interrupted the Lannister lord. Both you and he looked around to see Aemond looking down his nose into Tytos’ blanched face. The Targaryen prince grabbed the hand at your back, ripping it away and holding the ringed fingers tightly in what would look like an amicable greeting were it not for the way Tytos winced in pain. “This is my betrothed to whom you speak as though she were a drab, and you are in a castle not a brothel."

The Lannister struggled against Aemond’s vicelike grasp, yanking his hand back from the prince with a curse. “I am a lion of Casterly Rock and will not be treated with such impudence, not even from you.”

“Ah yes.” You watched as Aemond’s lip curled in a sneer. “What are your house words once more? ‘Hear me roar’?”

His violet eye was cold and calculating. “Yet all I hear is the mewling of an impotent kit.” Aemond stepped forward, invading Tytos’ personal space, causing the man to step backward as he spluttered.

The prince set a finger lightly against the Lannister’s chest. “Touch my betrothed again, and I will exact my vengeance with fire and blood.”

Not waiting for the lord to gather his shocked senses enough to release a diatribe, Aemond took your elbow firmly and guided you quickly away.

You looked up at him, his profile sharp in the flickering torchlight. “I apologize, my prince. I didn’t know how to get away from him.”

Aemond glanced down at you, surprise flickering over his face. “Do not apologize, Y/N. You did nothing wrong; it is he who should be asking your forgiveness.” He stopped once you two had walked out of Tytos Lannister’s line of sight, turning to you with a small smile. “Your beauty is a siren song for lecherous fools such as he.” Your lips parted in shock as Aemond ran the back of his forefinger down your cheek briefly. “Later, I will teach you a trick my sister showed me. It involves a swift upward movement accompanied by a hasty departure from the scene.”

You laughed, your giggles seemed to delight the prince as one of his large hands came to rest atop your hip, his eye alight with mirth as it drank in your crinkled nose and rosy cheeks.

He looked over your shoulder, expression falling slightly, you turned to follow his gaze just in time to see his mother, Alicent, finish motioning him towards the dancefloor. She averted her eyes, turning in her seat hurriedly to continue eating and chatting. This caused another ripple of giggles to erupt from you, covering your mouth with a hand as you glanced back at Aemond’s bemused face.

“Oddly, I suddenly feel the urge to dance, Y/N. Will you join me?” Aemond held out a hand to you, which you accepted, still smiling broadly.

“Of course, my prince.”

He led you, hand in hand, to the center of the stone floor. “Please dispense with the formalities, I am simply ‘Aemond’ with you.”

You placed your other hand atop his leather-clad shoulder, swaying as he led you in a slow waltz. “I like the sound of that… ‘simply Aemond.’”

He chuckled low at your cheeky reply.

This man was no monster, no flame-eyed outcast. He was the dragon you’d been betrothed to, a prospect that now sent thrills of anticipation down your spine. As volatile as flame, fiercely protective of what belonged to him. Beautiful as a cloudless night, devastating as burning wildfire. You found yourself wanting to be his wife, to explore what shaped him into the man who now held you in his arms. Your journey together had just begun, and for the first time, you felt a tender excitement for what the future promised.

#aemond x reader #aemond fluff #aemond drabble #aemond oneshot #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen drabble #aemond stannies #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond hotd #aemond one eye

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hyunverse · 26 days

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omg i just can’t stop thinking about loser nerd hyune I want him so bad TT

i had a random thought earlier like he would be such a delulu hopeless romantic after his crush notices him like imagine he has a raging crush on u but never dared to make a move but u guys got grouped together in one subject so now he has a reason to follow you on your social media account that he stalked sometimes so that you guys could communicate 😭😭 once you follow him back he would be so giddy and excited and tell it to his friends and changbin would probably encourage hyune to post a hot picture of himself to even get ur attention..would be so shy at first but then does it anyway (overthinks as well and asks bin for like hundred times if the photo is good enough to post) and bc he’s taking so long bin would probably just hit the post button and loser hyune would freak the fuck out😭😭 would start to over think when you haven’t liked his post 10 mins after it was posted but then would immediately turn to a giggling mess once he saw that you liked his post!! and would be excited and delulu abt it and would put a meaning behind it that what if you like him too?(his friends would also fuel that thought by putting meanings in small interactions of you and hyune)

i giggled so much reading this holy fuck. thank you nonnie for blessing us with your thoughts!!!

loser!hyunjin would sooo giggle to his friends talking about he's so sure that you're his soulmate HE'S SUCH A LOSER but the moment changbin tells him to man up and approach you, he immediately goes quiet.

loser!hyunjin who posts things he knows you like in hopes that you'll like his story — or better yet, that you'll reply. one time you talked about how you like pastries and the next day, he posts a picture of a croissant in a cafe. such a loser oh my god and he does not know how to be discreet too. posts the songs he's seen you play on spotify LOL... giggles when he sees you liked the story.

loser!hyunjin who's so nervous the first time you come over to his house to work on a project. spends an hour thinking about what to wear. hyunjin wants to look good but not to the point where he looks like he's trying too hard.

loser!hyunjin who doesn't know how to play it cool AT ALL. he's at your service anytime you ask. whether it be you needing help with your car, or the notes from today's literature class, he'll reply at the speed of light. <3

#i fucking love loser hyune #loser!hyunjin #soft hrs: hyunjin!#hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin drabbles #hyunjin headcanons #hyunjin hcs #hwang hyunjin headcanons #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines

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kdogreads · 7 months

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maybe grumpy richie x sunshine reader whos also like syds best friend and she comes in and is just extremely nice to him and he flirts w her until syd comes out and yells at him 😇😇

LOVE this! Thank you so much sweet nonnie 😍😍

This is giving suit-Richie, so not that grumpy ☹️🫶

“Hiiiii!” Syd squeals as she’s pops out of the kitchen in her pretty new chef’s coat, “I’m so glad you made it!”

She pulled you into a tight hug and you reciprocated the sheer joy at seeing your closest friend in her element.

“I’m so happy to be here, Syd. This place is incredible,” You shot her a proud gaze and she just waved you down. Typical Sydney to act like it’s not a big deal.

“Thank you—yeah, thanks. It’s been a lot, but let me take you through the kitchen and show you—“

She paused when Richie cleared his throat impatiently, obviously wanting an introduction.

“Ah, right, sorry,” Syd chuckled, “This is Richie — Front of house manager and Carmy’s cousin.”

He extended a hand to you and you shook it gracefully, noting how small your own hand felt in his big one.

“Good to finally meet you, sweetheart. Syd here talks about you all the time,” Richie smiled sweetly at you, and a shockwave shot through your veins.

“Same to you, Richie. I’ve heard a lot,” You spoke confidently as he slowly released your hand.

His eyebrows shot up in feigned surprise, “All good things, I hope.” He ended his thought with a wink and you swear you felt your heart stop for a beat. Those crystal blue eyes staring into yours; you couldn’t stop the thoughts running through your head.

God, he has a pretty smile. And he smells so good. And—

“Well we’ve been friends for like ever and I haven’t given you a tour yet, so,” Sydney trails off, trying to ignore whatever this thing is happening between you and Richie right now.

You tried your best to wipe the giddy grin from your face as you nodded to Sydney, ready to celebrate this incredible restaurant with her.

Syd took you back through the kitchen where you were happy to meet all of the people she’d spoken so highly of — Carmy, Tina, Marcus, even Fak. They were all just as skilled and friendly as she’d told you.

The two of you stayed chatting a while until she took you back out to the table she’d reserved just for you. Dinner service was about to begin and the sharply-dressed servers began seating other excited guests.

You spotted Richie on the other side of the dining room. He looked so handsome with his suit jacket on and buttoned, a new addition to the look you’d met him in earlier. The thoughts running through your mind were downright dangerous.

Your eyes drifted over the menu as you tried to expel Richie from your brain. You tried so hard to focus on the richly flavored dishes on the page that you didn’t notice when someone walked up to your table.

“Doing okay, sweetheart?” You jumped at the sweet, sultry voice, “I’ll be personally taking care of you tonight.”

The lights were just dim enough to hide Richie’s wink and your blushing cheeks.

“Uh, yeah—yes! Great, Richie, thank you,” Trying and failing to hide your giddiness, you watched as he set an icy purple-ish drink down in front of you.

“Vodka, sugar-free cranberry juice and a splash of lime.”

You couldn’t hide the shocked look in your face for the life of you, “Wow. You really do your homework, huh?”

Richie leaned in close, close enough you could feel his minty breath on your cheek when he spoke.

“I’m all about the service, baby.”

A shiver ran down your spine as he straightened up, a smug, knowing smirk on his face. You could tell he was about to say something else when the door to the kitchen swung open just a few feet away.

“Richie!” Syd whisper-yelled, “Flirt with my friend later please, I need your help in here.”

She darted back into the kitchen before either of you could respond. Richie’s smug smirk melted into a warm smile and your cheeks started to feel hot yet again.

“I’ll be seeing you soon?” Richie questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“I hope so,” You folded your hands and rested your head in them, batting your lashes up at a swooning Richie.

He simply nodded slightly, smile still plastered on his lips, before turning to head for the kitchen.

You really, really did hope you’d be seeing him later.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #Richie jerimovich fluff #the bear imagine #the bear x reader #the bear fic #the best fluff #sydney adamu #kdogreads

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year

Note

I know it's been done quite a bit but

Soft!dom Aemond please? Modern or canon era your choice ❤️ maybe some degradation???

is there really any limit to soft!dom Aemond tho? I hope you enjoy this nonnie xx apologies me writing smut is so shit, I wish you guys could just see what I see (that sounds weird but you get me) !!!

Serve Me.

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x Servant!fem!Reader

WORDS: 3,477.

WARNINGS: soft!dom Aemond, degredation kink, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, fingering, hint of power kink/dynamics.

A/N - I left this in the HOTD universe, but please feel free to request for a modern AU version / HC :) BIG BIG THANK YOU to my soulmate @sahvlren for helping me to jump start this, I was experiencing terrible writer's block and my main girl pulled through. I love you baby <3 sorry if there are mistakes, I'll edit tomorrow LMAO but enjoy this heinous writing for now x

Aemond Targaryen, the notorious one-eyed Prince, was an enigma to many... Including yourself. You had only ever known him as your Lord or Grace, and you as his mere servant. Aemond scarcely spoke to you unless to give orders. Although from much close observation, you'd figured, he hardly spoke to anyone at all, unless to command or vex. His endearing silence, and impenetrable demeanour itself was quite intimidating, let alone the nobility and authority the young Prince possessed, did not help to ease your fears of the man.

Aemond often would use this to his advantage to seek out what he sought for, so you've heard.

You knew from your upbringing and low social standing, not to dare provoke such a man. Being trained the etiquette to serve and obey was all you'd known, and that would remain unchanged. Much to your oblivious nature, however, Aemond had been carefully watching you. He hadn't spotted you initially, amongst the servants that greeted him in the morrow, for it was difficult to decipher who from who, as you all moved about in haste and in identical, ragged uniforms. Yet the moment, you caught his eye, a yearning began to ignite in the pit of his stomach. With each passing day, of your close presence, this feeling began to stir into something more palpable. Whether it was the blatant vulnerability or the innocence in your eyes, [he had yet to determine] something about you had intrigued him to no end.

Not to mention, you were some sight for sore eyes...

In comparison, to most of his servants that he had been raised with, some far older than he and others not suited to his acquired tastes, you, you had captivated him. He had no idea where his mother had found you, and yet he never fathomed to question her decision. Aemond did also often prefer, if given the chance, to gather some background on servants, that had been newly entrusted to serve beneath him. He knew their day-to-day service would mean he'd be exposing himself to vulnerable situations, whether it be to help run a bath, attend to his wound care from training, or even so, if the Prince had fallen into illness [although rarely]... He refused to oblige in trusting others so lightly.

And yet, he made the exception with you. He wanted to directly hear your story from your own words, as he could envision your luscious mouth moving, forming the words as you spoke gently. In actuality, he'd only would’ve granted you the chance to speak so freely, for he knew you were just a helpless maid: he knew could easily overpower you, even if you foolishly attempted something... Aemond felt he could read you like a book, the evidence was blatantly obvious in your frightful, uneasy eyes. The way he gave you orders, he'd paid close attention to how often your eyes would dart and flutter to his voice, your body shuddering when nearby, unable to maintain even a minute of contact. It drove him wild, that he had such a profound affect on a woman. He could understand that perhaps it was an authorative play, and yet, he enjoyed it immensely. His curious mind often pondered over devious thoughts, endless possibilities of what other things he could compel you to do...

Attending to such time consuming, domestic duties, you'd often be accompanied with a few other maids or servants, although after some time, they began to disappear one by one, until only you were the only other being presenting yourself to Aemond in his chambers. It was only after you had questioned your fellow colleagues about there whereabouts after, that they'd openly disclosed, "the Prince has solely requested for you".

Gradually, you began to notice subtle changes in his routine. He would now often, or what you felt, was an attempt to delay your dismissal from his duties as much as possible. Spoling himself longer in your presence, if he had called you in initially for one thing, you'd end up having a thousand other tasks set to do, as he lurked on. During these moments, Aemond remained persistent in not talking, just observing you with a watchful eye, from a reasonable distance, as though not to pounce on his prey just yet...

Unlike his elder brother, Aemond refused to lower himself to such vile behaviours. There was no denying, if he wanted to, he could've easily forced himself onto you. Yet, was adamant to control his urges. Intending to take his sweet time with you, although that primal, almost animalistic part, was weaning less and less in patience. Whether he sat by the fire, immersed in some ancient text, or as he roamed by the windows and balcony of his quarters, he was always there, never ceaselessly leaving you alone. You could always sense his firm gaze subtly lingering over your body.

Now, he got bold...

As you tended to the adjusting the white, soft sheets on his king sized bed, as you did each morning, you’d heard the faint eerie creaking and sudden thud of the door shutting. Your attention snapped towards to see Aemond stood by the door, returning from his familial breakfast feast, watching you unfalteringly, before you refocused your attention to the task at hand.

He had never shut the door before... Always leaving it even just the slightest bit agape, it made it less daunting.

Trying desperately to avoid lurking towards his unnerving direction, you were oblivious to his faint footsteps creeping up behind, as the sheets rustled in your shaky grasp. You felt an instant, light graze against the tight, thick fabric of your waist, an arm snaking its way around, prompting you to straighten your posture up. Feeling his lean body against your frozen state, his firm grip felt incredibly tight around you, although bearable enough to breathe.

"Hmm, tell me who you are...Strange girl."

You remained silent, paralysed in both movement and speech, you felt your courage melt away, if there was even an ounce of it.

His hand that remained free, gently rubbing down the side of your clothed thigh, found its way, firmly clenched around your jaw. Guiding your face slowly towards his menacing gaze, his height over-towering you. Your teary eyes gradually wandered up to find the Prince looking hungrily down at you. You could feel him devouring you, just with his eye.

Qilōni issi ao? [Who are you?] He lowly growled, feeling the warmth of his breath against your tender, flushed cheek.

Pathetically whimpering out your name in a quiet stutter, caused the one-eyed Prince to grin. A wicked grin.

"Gevie hāedar [Beautiful girl]..."

You had no comprehension whatsoever of the meaning to his words, although you were wise enough to know the words he spat belonged to his Mother Tongue, remnants of Old Valyria.

Oddly enough, it sounded poetic to your foreign ear, how eloquently Aemond was able to pronounce the words, the way the words rolled off his tongue.

"You are going to listen to every word I say. If you disobey me, rest assured Y/N, you will be punished."

Again, you struggled to formulate the words nor found the pluck to speak. Simply nodding to his words, as he nudged your body to turn, now completely facing him.

Pathetic, the dreadful thought echoed in your mind... Aemond probably thought the same.

"Take off your rags, you filthy girl," His words spat like venom, and yet the devilish smirk on his face said other wise, as the young Prince found himself comfortably seated on his wooden chair by the fireplace.

Reluctantly your body obeyed, loosening the straps and ties of the run down dress you called uniform. Lost in your thoughts of what was to come next, you hadn't realised that you'd picked up speed, until Aemond uttered "slowly."

You paused for a mere few seconds, registering his words before realising that as the seconds zoned by, you'd given Aemond the faintest idea that you may have been refusing him.

As you hastily resumed, although this time taking extra caution in slowly removing each layer of fabric, you realised you that you did not consider to fight back.

You had heard of rumours, of many servants attempting to fight back against their higher class lieges, only to have either been dismissed, silenced or even some disappearing for good, especially those bestowed upon Aegon as servants. You heard no such accounts of this kind, relating to the Prince that you had served, and yet you so easily succumbed to this. Perhaps you were not as brave, as you had naively convinced yourself to be...

As you finished taking the last of your garments off, nervously standing bare naked in front of Aemond, your eyes reluctantly fell on him. You observed him watching you, relishing himself in the passing time, as he examined each crevice, detail and flaw etched to your body.

Say something, you desperately thought. What is it you wanted the Prince to say, you had not the faintest idea...

"Gevie [Beautiful]."

The foreign tongue yet again, cursed your ears, you remained clueless and at a loss to its meaning. Did he enjoy his view? Was he satisfied with how you were? Did he relish in stripping you bare of not only your rags, though of your dignity?

His stoic expression did nothing to relieve the tension, you could feel your breathing growing heavier, as your bare chest heaved deeply with each long breath.

Instinctively, your arms began to cross, folding over your front, you felt it did minimal help to maintain some last delusional thought of integrity that you'd had. Aemond immediately pounced off his seat, gracefully striding towards you in a few, short steps. There he stood, in all his clothed glory, as his rough, large hands reached over gripping your wrists as he guided your arms back down to your sides.

One hand released its grip over your wrist, reaching up as his palm lightly cupped your breast, his thumb gently stroking, flicking your sensitive nipple.

He was amused at how you winced under his touch, a blatant smirk on his face.

"Hmm-"

Slowly glancing up at Aemond, you could've sworn you saw the young Prince licking his lips lustfully, convinced that there was a slight possibility may-haps, he was satisfied with the sight before him.

"Lay on the bed."

"Yes, your Grace," You softly whipped back, in a timely manner and without much consciousness to your words.

As you were about to turn to kneel yourself into the bed, his grip on your wrist tightened once more, this time tugging you aggressively, as you felt your body pull to face him, in a swift reaction.

"No, 'your Grace'-" He mimicked, in his same, deep tone.

"Just...Āeksio [Master]."

Repeating his words mentally, you were smarter than to dare question Aemond again, not inclined to vex him in the slightest.

Y-Yes... Āeksio" You anxiously stutter. That familiar, devilish grin reappearing on his chiseled face, almost amused by your poor attempt of a pronunciation of his Mother Tongue. He should be insulted, not amused, you figured. Yet you obediently stammered onto the soft bed, sprawling yourself on the newly clean linen, your back towards the mattress, as your hands kept you propped up.

"Spread your legs."

Your breath got caught in your throat at his words, refusing to maintain eye contact, as Aemond unbuckled his coat and leggings. Your legs quivered with reluctance, and he had noticed your delay immediately.

"I said spread-"

Leaning himself forward on the thick mattress, his clenched fists keeping him balanced, his threatening gaze remained fixated on your, showing no signs of mercy or remorse for what he was capable of. He'd exhaled a deep sigh, almost signalling a refusal to jest with commands longer, your legs began to slowly part in distance, exposing your bare cunt to the Prince.

"Do not dare to test my patience ever again, disobedient girl."

You responded, whimpering with a nod, sensing hot tears pooling in corner of your eyes, desperately trying to hold them back. One escaped, streaming down your blushed cheek, as Aemond removed his shirt and leggings completely. Now the Prince, just as bare as you, except for the remaining leather eye patch, his body was as you had imagined it, even more perfect in reality.

Chiseled and lean, his muscles prominent from the long days of training had paid off. The appealing sight before you, acted as a distraction to the situation at hand.

"Hmm-" Aemond lowly growled, as he steadily kneeled over the bed now on all fours, his attention spanning from your face to your cunt.

"I own this cunt, just like I own you..Ñuhon [Mine]."

Without a minute to spare, he crawled himself closer, his head hovering above your lower abdomen, as one arm wrapped beneath your tender thigh, tensing under his grip, he pulled your thigh further apart. His other free hand slowly reached towards your entrance, the cold tips of his long fingers, gently tracing over your moist folds. A tingle coursed through between your thigh, his thumb swiping over the skin.

"So you are wet for me? And I haven't even started... My pathetic, innocent girl."

"M-Master- Àeksio-" You squeaked urgently, remembering his command.

"Please, I-I am just here to serve you, b-bid me leave and I shall not tell a living soul."

Immediately, Aemond shot his eyes up at you, and he was far from impressed. Fury streaked across his face, he looked even more forbidding than initially, if it was even possible, his eye slightly squinting as though in shock that you'd even attempt to bargain for freedom.

He exchanged no words, only hastily shoving two, long fingers into your cunt, without even a merciful warning. You could feel his fingers, slowly swirling between your folds, circulating in sensual slow movements, before he began to found some pace, thrusting them in and out.

"A-Aemond-"

"Insolent girl, you were doing so well taking orders. And now that you've given in to me, you've lost all your senses.”

His fingers began to pace faster, although now he added an extra digit, widening your entrance even more, as your wetness began to pool, lubricating your cunt and inner thighs.

As you pleaded for Aemond to stop, refocusing your attention from the stony ceiling, to his handsome face, that wicked smile was once again, struck beaming up at you. This time he even let out a sinister chuckle, amused at how effortlessly your body caved under his touch.

Instantly pulling all three fingers out, his hand had been coated in a viscous clear-white film, eyeing his glazed fingers hungrily, Aemond looked to you menacingly, before lapping your sweetness with his tongue.

"Hmm-" He moaned, closing his eye for a split second as he took the time to savour the taste.

"Just as I thought... Delectable."

Wiping away the last remnants of your taste from his lips, Aemond relished in the moment. His eye fixated on you, he began to crawl himself up closer, your faces now only inches apart, as his fingers reached for your cheek, grazing your soft skin before combing back the mottled strands of your hair.

"Beautiful."

His word nor did his tone feel venomous, you earnestly stared at Aemond, as your eyes scanned over his features in greater depth. You'd never been this close to the Prince, and you'd been working with him for months now. His healed scar now peaked your intrigue, instinctively, your hand reached over cautiously, as though not to startle him, although more as a precaution for you.

Your fingers gently traced over the prominent, scarred line down beneath the patch, careful not to provoke any potential pain, as Aemond had initially winced beneath your touch, only to gradually lean into you.

"Are you frightened by it?" Aemond uttered, almost in a sorrowful tone.

"No, Āeksio."

"Are you disgusted by it?" He once more woefully questioned, his eye yearningly lingered over your lips, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.

"No," You softly whispered, still reluctant out of fright to speak.

"Where have you been, you."

Hastily he removed his eye patch, flinging the material to the floor, revealing a mesmerising blue, sapphire gem stone carved perfectly, in place of his lost eye. You were not startled at all, although enthralled. And he had acknowledged your response pleasantly. Without a second to spare, Aemond found himself plummeting his lips down against yours, in a passionate kiss. His heavier mass weighing down ontop of you, caused you to lay back completely on the bed for support. His tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring and swirling inside, as his semi-hard cock weighed atop of your lower abdomen just above your cunt.

His breathing became slower and heavier, unable to take breaths in between, similarly your chest began to heave against his, your breasts caressing, pushing in towards his lean chest, as your back gracefully arched.

Your legs instinctively began to pull apart once more, as he adjusted himself below, feeling his throbbing cock, pulsating against your sensitive spot. His lips finally left yours, as he left a wet trail against your soft skin, trialling down the crook of your neck, to your breasts. His hands gripped to your wrists, as he pulled your arms overhead, pinning you down,one hand freed itself, reaching down below as he gripped at his hard cock, causing him to moan, he positioned himself at your entrance, adjusting himself to plunge in, before taking one final glance at you.

That was his warning.

His cock felt long and girthy, as he shoved himself in, your walls stretching to fit his pleasurable mass and length. It hurt, for this was the first time you had laid with a man, unimaginably, it also happened to be the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. And yet, it felt so wildly right. An electrifying jolt coursed through your body, although it was tolerable and became enjoyable the more time you spent immersed to this new sensation.

"A-Aemond-" You breathlessly moan, a satisfied look appearing on Aemond's face, as he watched you intently from above, your reaction to his movements: causing you to arch once more, bucking your hips upwards as your face turned up towards the ceiling in retaliation.

"So needy for me, needy for your Prince. You'd be nothing without me, no one."

"Y-Yes-" You agreed bashfully, although at this point you'd agree to anything Aemond proclaimed, so long as he kept this steady and slow pace up.

"Such a needy whore, Y/N. My needy whore, who takes such good care of her Prince."

"Y-Yes, I forever w-will."

His thrusts became faster and he kept steady at it, his endurance was unfaltering [you'd come to be most thankful to all the years of training he endured]. His groans and growls became louder and more frequent, as your walls clenched tighter, feeling more of your warm cum coating his cock inside, oozing from your entrance coating your thighs and his balls.

"Forever mine. You belong to no one else-" He grunted, struggling speak in coherent sentences as he tried to manage his breath.

"Understood?"

No response. This only infuriated him once more, causing his grip on your wrist and one on your waist, keeping you planted, to tighten, as he squeezed firmly for your attention.

"Yes, Āeksio! Yes!" You delightfully cried out, reaching your climax.

A few long minutes went by, and Aemond felt himself releasing his cum inside of you, a breath of relief escaping his mouth, grunting in pleasure, as his grip still remained firm on you.

"Fuck, now you are definitely mine."

You knew the potential consequences, although in the moment you could not fathom nor consider what may occur. You were concentrating on your breathing, just as Aemond was, relinquishing you from his claim, pulling his cock out carefully, he hastily stood himself up out of bed, reaching for some sheet, to clean himself.

"If the Gods be good, you'll carry my child. Bastard or not, you are mine, regardless."

Your breathing now steady, you felt your sweaty body cooling in the air, as the rush had settled, nodding to Aemond's words, although it still felt more like commands.

"Wh-Whhat will the others think of me? What excuse shall I say? Your Mother, the Queen, what will she say if-" You worryingly stutter, as your consciousness begins to return, seating yourself up, as you shakily wrap the dampened sheet around your naked body, still petrified of Aemond's judgement.

"These matters must not concern you anymore, Y/N. I will see to take care of it myself. Your only duty remains the same, to serve me faithfully."

You simply nod against Aemond's words, as he wipes himself with a wet cloth at the basin set by his table. His leggings now on, he remained but shirtless, walking back over towards you, as he comfortably seated himself down beside you. He brings forth a wet cloth to your forehead, wiping away the sweat beads. Lustfully, he gazes over you, a genuine, heartfelt smile on his face, before he succumbed to planting a small, soft kiss on your clean forehead, before refocusing his attention on you.

"Understand this, you belong to no one, Y/N. You will continue to serve me, as I see fit. In return, I will take care of you... Alas, as I see fit."

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