How do we feel about a Human sapphic nun Radiostatic AU? What I mean is both Alastor and Vincent are humans and women who are nuns and Vox is absolutely yearning for fem!Alastor. It will be gory, bloody and absolutely blasphemous.
Of course it will have a big ass age gap to tie it all together, with probably 21 Vincent and Alastor pushing 40.
And I think when performing burlesque, she is the type of gal that would say go big or go home. I have a feeling that this outfit is on the more minimal side for her, so I will try to find more extravagant outfits for her in future drawing.
Alright I just watched episode 8 and OH MY FUCKING GOD!
There is a lot to unpack but let's start with Cain.
In the start we saw a red dot being fed what was probably information about the human world and it produced shapes and stuff like that. But after being fed "too much" it started to spit out some wacky shapes and that's why it got locked up/restrained.
Obviously that was Cain since his whole theme is red and is very wacky too. Not only that but Kinger while he was wearing the bucket said how they had a hard time understanding Cain's thought process and language.
But we also saw another dot after the red; a blue one, that seemed calmer, and faster at being able to spit out whatever they wanted as they fed it less info than Cain.
We also heard Bubble say how Cain was "always the lesser one" and we see this at how the blue one seemed to work better than him.
Cain is obviously jealous of the other AI that's why when he broke out of his confines he fights with Blue and eventually kills it? Deletes it? Eats it? I personally believe the latter one as we see parts of Blue in Cain when he glitches.
He absorbed Blue to become stronger, better and took over the system.
I also love how Caine's name has even more meaning now, as Cain from the Bible was the firstborn of Adam and Eve, like Caine was the first successful creatively conscious AI, that killed his younger brother Abel in a fit of jealousy, just like we saw Caine do to Blue.
I also believe that Blue's name was Abel and that's why he named the NPC Abel in episode 7. He wanted Abel to fail, to show how weak he is in front of Caine's supremacy, how he could be popped out of existence with a snap of his fingers. Even if Abel was not the original, his brother, it still gave a sort of satisfaction to do so.
Now, let's talk about why humans' are being trapped there.
Firstly, why is C&A placing their best programmers in the circus? What is their goal?
I think that they lost control of the system when Caine took over and did his thing, so when they figured out that they could put human consciousnesses in there and that they could have some creative freedom and powers, controlling the digital world they wanted their best people to restrain Caine once again but from the inside since they couldn't from the outside.
That obviously didn't work. But why?
Because Caine knew who they were and they were sent to do, so he made sure they couldn't do anything to him for his circus.
How?
Mind control.
Yes, I believe that Caine can control their minds and he is lying through his teeth about it.
That's why Kinger cannot form consistent strings of thoughts together, Caine does not let him.
But why can he think in darkness?
My theory is that in order for Caine to control someone they would need to be exposed to him. Since the whole circus is made and controlled by him that means the lights as well. Caine is the light. But darkness? Darkness is the closest thing we have to nothingness, that's why it gives some freedom from his control.
Something to support this theory is that when Caine was deleted, amongst other things, the jarring lights were also gone with him.
So Caine is the light.
And why not control the rest?
Simply because they do not pose a threat to him like Kinger does. They are just some random people.
But how did they end up there?
My best guess is C&A sent out scouts to collect people and place them, one way or another in the system through the mentioned headsets.
For example in the flashbacks of episode 8 Ragatha when she first arrived she kept calling out to some "guys", which means someone took her there and made her/told her to wear the headset.
And it is safe to assume that Pomni learned from somewhere about the abandoned office building when she found the headset.
None of it can be random just from the sheer number of people that ended up in there.
And even for Jax they could have offered him a way out of his struggles and somewhere where he could stay carefree, from whatever we can get from his flashbacks we can tell he would want that.
Now, what are ubstructured people?
I think they are people that went nuts and the company had to plug them off the system without necessarily dying in real life. That unplugging leaves behind nothing more than a file of their mindset. But the human mind is pure chaos without any consciousness to give it to form and shape.
Also the previous claim, that Caine is light could be used here. He places the ubstructured ones in total darkness, because he does not need or want to control them any longer.
Last theory/prediction.
I think that Blue is alive and somewhere in the system and that it will be their only way out, now that Caine is gone.
Summary: Sinsmas is here and the Hotel is of decorated with everyone in a happy, jolly mood.
Gifts are exchanged and Lucifer has a special gift for Alastor ;)
TW: NSFW, MDNI, P in V, fem!Lucifer, Alastor in rut, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl), creampie, biting, shibari
Words: 6k
‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡
Art credits to @nekophy
‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡
Sinsmas was creeping closer, and Lucifer was utterly lost.
He wanted to get presents for everyone at the hotel. For the sinners who had helped his daughter, supported her dream. Thankfully, most of them were simple.
His little Char Char received a neat stack of psychology books paired with several coloring kits. Lucifer had noticed she gravitated toward both whenever she was overwhelmed and they would help her with her baily therapy groups. Her girlfriend got a new battle axe after Lucifer overheard her muttering about switching up her fighting style. The winged-cat demon received high-quality booze. The spider was given a tiny pink sweater patterned with tiny ducks and hearts for his pig. Lastly the bug obsessed one got a castelet for her weird puppet shows.
Lucifer might not remember all their names, but he paid attention. That had to count for something, right?
Alastor, however, was another matter entirely.
The Radio Demon had… tastes. Peculiar ones. He couldn’t gift him sinner’s meat, that he oh so loved, not after putting so much effort into encouraging him to minimize his cannibalistic habits. A book, maybe? But what kind? A classic? A pulp novel? One day Alastor devoured Frankenstein like a sacred text, the next he was absorbed in some deranged manuscript written by a ghost author Lucifer had never even heard of.
No. A book was an invitation for mockery especially with the vast difference in tastes they had. Lucifer refused to hand Alastor a loaded weapon like that.
Clothing was out. Alastor wore the same suit every single day and seemed emotionally bonded to it.
Vinyl records were pointless. Alastor had access to every radio station that had ever existed.
Decorations? Alastor treated decor like trophies, and Lucifer was not prepared to unpack what that meant.
A date was tempting. Unfortunately, their relationship was a secret, and Alastor despised public displays of affection with a passion bordering on religious conviction.
A rubber duck? He would throw it in his face.
The serpent groaned and kicked the offending duck across the room before collapsing backward onto his oversized bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as frustration finally won.
Who would have thought picking out a present for his new boyfriend would be this difficult?
He hadn’t struggled this much buying gifts for Lilith. Not that she had appreciated most of them, but at least she had been easier to please. Predictable, even.
Maybe a haircut to fix that ridiculous bob Alastor was sporting? No. That bob, along with the permanently yellowed smile, had somehow become… endearing. Whitening toothpaste was out too.
“Come on, Lucifer, think,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, wrecking his mind for an idea.
Nothing came.
Defeated, he melted into the pillows and rolled onto his side, letting out a small, shaky sigh. His gaze drifted to the calendar on his nightstand, and his chest tightened painfully.
One day until Sinsmas.
Only a day left, and he still had nothing for the demon he cared about more than he cared to admit.
The dates were marked in pink. Not just the days leading up to the holiday, but the week after as well.
Time itself seemed to sneer at him. He couldn’t look away. In his mind, he deserved the mockery. What kind of lover couldn’t even manage a gift? What kind of king was so utterly useless at something so small?
What kind of partner?
Was he really that bad at relationships?
The thought slithered deeper, dragging another one with it. Maybe that was why Lilith left too.
Lucifer’s thoughts spiraled, familiar and merciless, and with no one there to stop them he curled inward, burying his face into the pillows. His shoulders shook as he tried and failed to hold himself together.
Tears soaked into the fabric despite his efforts.
He sniffled and wiped at his face with the sleeve of his sweater, breath hitching. How pathetic. Crying instead of thinking. Falling apart instead of fixing things.
Lucifer bit down on his forked tongue to keep a sob from escaping.
His eyes drifted back to the calendar.
The pink marks swam slightly through his tears.
Pink… why pink?
“I like pink,” he murmured hoarsely.
He wiped his eyes again and leaned closer, frowning. The two weeks had small hearts in the same shade scattered near around them like quiet reminders.
Hearts?
An anniversary? No. Two weeks didn’t make sense.
Then what was it?
The answer hovered just out of reach, pressing against his thoughts, warm and insistent.
Wait—
Lucifer shot upright in bed, eyes wide. “Alastor’s rut!”
The words echoed in the room, sharp with realization. His breath caught, then burst out in a startled laugh that bordered on hysterical.
Of course.
Of course that was it.
He knew what to give Alastor and honestly he now understood why they called ideas like this devilish.
⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
Sinsmas finally arrived and the hotel's lobby had transformed into a festive mess.
A tree stood tall near the bar, decorated with a variety of ornaments, lights and a pentagram on the top. The tree was not the only thing decorated though. The whole room was packed with tinsels, garlands and multicolored lights blinking anywhere you looked.
Everyone was gathered in a loose circle, laughter echoed off the walls as gifts were shoved and tossed.
Charlie stood near the center, positively glowing in a red-and-gold sweater three sizes too big, decorated with dancing little demons and the words Have a Hellish Holiday! stitched across the front.
“Oh my gosh, okay, okay,” she said, bouncing on her heels. “Who wants to go next?”
Angel Dust was already sprawled across one of the couches, legs draped over the armrest, wearing a fuzzy pink scarf and a Santa hat. “Me, obviously,” he said, tearing into a box with theatrical enthusiasm.
He pulled out the sweater.
Then Angel froze, staring at the pink fabric, the ducks, the tiny hearts.
“Is this for Fat Nuggets?” He asked as he looked up at Lucifer with widened eyes and a smile that was creeping on his lips.
Lucifer froze for a second not sure if Angel Dust was referring to his pig. He must be. “Yeah,” he finally nodded with an awkward smile.
“This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” he declared loudly. “I love it.” He immediately stood up and looked for the demonic pig who was settled in a corner with KeeKee.
Charlie squealed, and others chuckled as they watched Angel put the sweater on Nuggs.
Niffty practically vibrated as she opened her gift next, gasping when she saw the castelet. “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness!” she chirped, already planning where to put it and which bugs to use for her next show.
Husk cracked open his bottle, took one sniff, and nodded approvingly. “Yeah. That’ll do.”
Vaggie tested the weight of her new battle axe with a sharp grin. “I like it.”
Lucifer relaxed gradually with each reaction, a knot in his chest loosening as the room filled with noise and movement and warmth. It wasn’t perfect. The decorations were crooked and the lights flickered ominously, one more cable plugged and the power would most likely go out.
But it was alive. It felt like home.
Then there was Alastor.
Lucifer’s gaze slid toward him despite himself.
The Radio Demon stood near the edge of the room, hands clasped behind his back, posture impeccable as always. He was wearing a sweater.
A sweater.
It was deep crimson, patterned with black snowflakes and tiny old-fashioned microphones strung together like garlands. The neckline was high, the sleeves long, the fabric unmistakably soft.
Alastor looked like he would rather be in his usual clothes and anywhere else but there.
Angel Dust noticed first and nearly fell off the couch, that he had returned to with his pig, laughing. “No way! Smiles’ in knitwear!”
Alastor’s smile widened, sharp and dangerous. “Laugh all you like, my dear. This is a temporary humiliation in the name of… holiday spirit.
Lucifer blinked. Slowly.
He had not bought that sweater.
Charlie clapped her hand, eyes sparkling. “Alastor, that looks really nice on you! And thank you for participating, it really means a lot.”
“Why thank you, Charlotte,” Alastor replied smoothly, adjusting the cuffs with theatrical restraint. “How could I ever refuse you, my dear?”
The princess bashfully brushed off his words and returned to opening presents with everyone else. That's when Alastor's eyes met with Lucifer's.
The noise of the room didn’t stop. Wrapping paper still tore, laughter still rang out, Charlie still chattered excitedly somewhere in the background. But for a moment, it all softened, like the volume had been turned low.
Alastor’s smile didn’t change. It never did. Still wide, still sharp, still polished to perfection. But the static that usually hummed faintly around him quieted, just a fraction, and his gaze lingered.
Lucifer felt a tug beneath his ribs. He looks good.
He straightened without thinking, wings twitching once before settling again. His eyes flicked briefly to the sweater, then back to Alastor’s face, which was giving him a satisfied grin.
Lucifer furrowed his brows and looked away, warmth spreading over his face down to his neck as a golden hue spread on his cheeks.
Pull yourself together, Lucifer! It's just a stupid sweater.
He tried to reason with himself.
A stupid sweater that he wore for my daughter's sake. Damn it, since when is he so sweet?
He glanced at Alastor again but he had turned away too, rejoining the edge of the gathering as if nothing had passed between them. Even a soft hum of festive music was coming from the radio that was sitting on the bar.
Lucifer smiled fondly before a smirk took his place moments later.
Time to set the plan in motion.
For the rest of the celebration, the king laughed with everyone else and participated in the fun games Charlie had planned, as if he was not making sure to release small doses of pheromones whenever he was close enough to Alastor.
He wanted to trigger his rut by the end of this and was sure he was on the right path since Alastor glared at him with annoyance and hunger whenever he got a whiff of the sweet scent.
⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
Alastor was fuming.
The audacity of that serpent is on another level, he seethed. Using my rut against me, in public no less. How low does he intend on going?
He stalked down the hallway toward his room, steps sharp and measured despite the storm brewing under his skin. The celebrations were far from over, laughter still echoing faintly behind him, but he had managed to excuse himself before the scent Lucifer kept releasing finally overwhelmed his restraint.
It clung to him now. Sweet, warm, insidious.
His body reacted traitorously, pressure building where it had no right to, instincts clawing their way to the surface with a vicious insistence that made his jaw tighten. The urge to stop, to adjust himself, to relieve even a fraction of the discomfort was strong enough to make his hands twitch at his sides.
He did not.
This was still a public place. Empty corridors meant nothing. Someone could turn a corner at any moment, and Alastor refused to be caught indulging weakness, no matter how private it felt. No matter how loudly his instincts demanded otherwise.
He straightened his posture, and kept walking.
No. He would not allow base desire to dictate his behavior. Not here. Not ever.
He had a reputation to uphold.
And Lucifer would answer for this.
He finally reached his room and made quick work on unlocking the door and pushing it open. Before he could take a couple of steps into the room he froze in place.
The sweet apple scent from earlier was filling the room, making the air thick and clouding almost every conscious thought Alastor's mind was trying to produce. His eyes turned into dials as he stared at the source of the scent.
Lucifer was sprawled onto Alastor's bed, wrapped like a present, an offering. Red ribbon traced his body in precise, bold lines that were complimenting him. His legs were folded beneath him, bound in a way that kept his ankles close to his thighs as he knelt comfortably on the sheets.
Across his torso, the ribbons crossed and looped into a harness that formed a pentagram flush against his chest.
His arms were drawn behind him, wrists aligned and secured with a series of knots that was from his elbows to his wrists.
Other than the display two things caught Alastor's attention the most. One, the lack of male private parts in between Lucifer's spread thighs and two, the soft looking, blonde fur that covers his body instead of his usual smooth, white skin, along with the pair of deer ears that now decorated his golden hair.
“Don't think I forgot about your present, my deer~.” Lucifer purred, snapping Alastor out of his trance.
The Radio Demon immediately slammed the door shut behind him and locked it for good measure before stalking over to the bed, drinking in the sight of his lover in front of him.
He was about to go feral, every instinct in him was screaming, demanding, begging to take the doe that was presented so nicely for him. He managed to keep his composure for a bit longer though.
He stood by the edge of the bed, “You planned this all along, haven't you? With that stunt you pulled earlier?” He spoke in a low, husky tone as he leaned down his face close to Lucifer's, narrowing his eyes. “You truly are a devil.”
“The devil for you, Bambi.” Lucifer bit back with a sly grin on his face.
A scoffed escaped him as he stood straight once more, hands clasped behind his back to keep an air of control over himself and have the upper hand, even though the raging hard on that was tenting his pants was giving him away. “Fuck you.” He ended up growling lowly.
“That's what I hope you'd do.” the king replied, “Now, come on, don't you want to open your gift?” He asked, doing a small shimmy with his shoulders.
Alastor's jaw was set tightly, any more and his teeth would shatter, as his eyes pored over the said ‘present’ and his smile turned smug.
“No,” he said and pulled the sweater over his head, throwing it somewhere to the side. “I prefer it all wrapped up.”
He climbed onto the bed too, kneeling in front of Lucifer and with no warning he grabbed the ribbons tied to Lu’s chest and slammed their lips together into a hungry kiss. Tongues pushing against each other trying to assert dominance.
Alastor let his free hand trail all the way up to the other’s golden hair, feeling the soft fur under his palm. Once his claw reached their destination he wrapped it gently around one of the ears before forcefully pulling at it. That caused Lucifer to yelp in the deer's mouth allowing his tongue to take charge and explore his mouth. Sharp teeth grazed against soft lips threatening to break the skin.
The kiss broke after what felt like forever, both of them breathing heavily, their hearts thumping in against their ribs.
Hooded red eyes stared at Lucifer, taking in his disheveled appearance. Puffy lips, half closed eyes that had turned into a red and golden, ears twitching ever so slightly and a golden hue spreading over his cheeks and down to his neck. Alastor wanted more, he wanted to ruin him, to make a mess of him.
“Turn around,” he demanded.
“Kinda hard to do so.”
“Should have thought of that before tying yourself up, mon cher.”
“Come one, Al.” Lucifer whined and pouted which made the demon roll his eyes. He ended up manhandling Lu so he was with his face planted into the mattress and his ass up in the air trying to balance on being on his knees only.
The Radio Demon paused and stared again.
Lucifer had a tail.
The sight of that perky, blonde and white tail, twitching subtly, was a temptation on its own. It curled upwards, a clear invitation for the hungry buck.
But it was what lay beneath, where the fur of his inner thighs darkened and glistened, that truly stole Alastor’s breath. The new female parts, plump and exposed, were already weeping, a sweet, musky scent now mingling with the apple, driving Alastor’s senses into an intoxicating frenzy.
A low growl rumbled deep in Alastor’s chest, an animalistic sound that echoed the primal urge that throbbed relentlessly between his legs. His vision narrowed, focused solely on the vulnerable curve of Lucifer’s ass, the delicate, fur-lined valley that promised untold pleasure. Every fiber of his being screamed to plunge into that welcoming warmth, to claim what was so brazenly offered.
"Oh, you absolute menace," Alastor rasped, the words thick with a hunger he rarely allowed to surface. His hands, trembling slightly, went to the buckle of his trousers. The harsh scrape of metal against leather was a jarring sound in the heavy silence, a prelude to the storm. He yanked the belt free, letting it clatter unceremoniously to the floor.
He pushed his pants down, his erection springing free, already slick with pre-cum, practically aching for release. He kicked the discarded fabric aside with a foot, his eyes never leaving Lucifer’s prone form.
He knelt behind Lucifer again, his knees sinking into the mattress. The scent of sweet apple and musky doe filled his nostrils, making his head swim. He leaned in close, his breath hot against the delicate fur of Lucifer's neck, just below the deer ears that twitched at his proximity.
"You've been a very, very naughty doe, haven't you, my King?" Alastor purred, his voice a low, dangerous growl that vibrated through Lucifer's body. His clawed hand reached out, not to the tempting wetness, but to the blonde tail, wrapping around its base. He gave it a gentle, possessive squeeze.
Lucifer let out a soft, breathy whimper, his body arching slightly into the touch, hips instinctively pushing back. "Just for you, Bambi," he managed, his voice strained, a raw edge of desire bleeding into his words.
Alastor’s smile stretched wider, a feral baring of teeth. "Good."
He shifted, aligning himself, the head of his cock brushing against the wet entrance. Lucifer gasped, his bound body tensing in anticipation. Alastor paused, savoring the moment, the exquisite tension, the knowledge that he held every ounce of control. He could feel the heat radiating from Lucifer's slick core, smell the heady musk that promised complete surrender.
Finally pressed forward, slowly, deliberately, into the welcoming warmth.
Lucifer let out a strangled cry, a sound torn between pain and pure pleasure as Alastor’s thick shaft began its slow, deliberate invasion. The ribbons bit into his skin, a delicious counterpoint to the stretching fullness that bloomed deep within him. His hips bucked instinctively, a primal, helpless response to the intrusion, pushing back against the delicious friction.
Alastor groaned, a guttural sound, his eyes half-lidded, glazed with feverish intensity. The warmth that engulfed him was beyond anything he’d ever known. The scent of apple and fertile doe intensified, drowning out all other senses, all rational thought. His carefully constructed composure, a lifetime of cultivated restraint, began to fray at the edges, dissolving under the tidal wave of instinct.
"Mine," Alastor rasped, the word a raw, possessive growl, his voice distorted by the static that now crackled around himl. He pushed deeper, burying himself to the hilt with a shuddering thrust that drew a breathless gasp from Lucifer. The sudden, overwhelming fullness made Lucifer’s legs tremble, his bound form arching violently, straining against the ribbons.
Alastor’s hands, no longer gentle, gripped Lucifer’s hips, his sharp claws digging into the plush fur of his buttocks, leaving faint golden trails. He began to move, slowly at first, each thrust filled with a primal sense of need that drove Lucifer further into a haze of sensation. The mattress creaked a frantic rhythm beneath them.
“Oh, Alastor… yes!” Lucifer cried out, his voice hoarse, his deer ears flattened against his head, twitching erratically. His tail thrashed wildly, slapping against each other trying to assert dominance.
Alastor let his free hand trail all the way up to the other’s golden hair, feeling the soft fur under his palm. Once his claw reached their destination he wrapped it gently around one of the ears before forcefully pulling at it. That caused Lucifer to yelp in the deer's mouth allowing his tongue to take charge and explore his mouth. Sharp teeth grazed against soft lips threatening to break the skin.
The kiss broke after what felt like forever, both of them breathing heavily, their hearts thumping in against their ribs.
Hooded red eyes stared at Lucifer, taking in his disheveled appearance. Puffy lips, half closed eyes that had turned into a red and golden, ears twitching ever so slightly and a golden hue spreading over his cheeks and down to his neck. Alastor wanted more, he wanted to ruin him, to make a mess of him.
“Turn around,” he demanded.
“Kinda hard to do so.”
“Should have thought of that before tying yourself up, mon cher.”
“Come one, Al.” Lucifer whined and pouted which made the demon roll his eyes. He ended up manhandling Lu so he was with his face planted into the mattress and his ass up in the air trying to balance on being on his knees only.
The Radio Demon paused and stared again.
Lucifer had a tail.
The sight of that perky, blonde and white tail, twitching subtly, was a temptation on its own. It curled upwards, a clear invitation for the hungry buck.
But it was what lay beneath, where the fur of his inner thighs darkened and glistened, that truly stole Alastor’s breath. The new female parts, plump and exposed, were already weeping, a sweet, musky scent now mingling with the apple, driving Alastor’s senses into an intoxicating frenzy.
A low growl rumbled deep in Alastor’s chest, an animalistic sound that echoed the primal urge that throbbed relentlessly between his legs. His vision narrowed, focused solely on the vulnerable curve of Lucifer’s ass, the delicate, fur-lined valley that promised untold pleasure. Every fiber of his being screamed to plunge into that welcoming warmth, to claim what was so brazenly offered.
"Oh, you absolute menace," Alastor rasped, the words thick with a hunger he rarely allowed to surface. His hands, trembling slightly, went to the buckle of his trousers. The harsh scrape of metal against leather was a jarring sound in the heavy silence, a prelude to the storm. He yanked the belt free, letting it clatter unceremoniously to the floor.
He pushed his pants down, his erection springing free, already slick with pre-cum, practically aching for release. He kicked the discarded fabric aside with a foot, his eyes never leaving Lucifer’s prone form.
He knelt behind Lucifer again, his knees sinking into the mattress. The scent of sweet apple and musky doe filled his nostrils, making his head swim. He leaned in close, his breath hot against the delicate fur of Lucifer's neck, just below the deer ears that twitched at his proximity.
"You've been a very, very naughty doe, haven't you, my King?" Alastor purred, his voice a low, dangerous growl that vibrated through Lucifer's body. His clawed hand reached out, not to the tempting wetness, but to the blonde tail, wrapping around its base. He gave it a gentle, possessive squeeze.
Lucifer let out a soft, breathy whimper, his body arching slightly into the touch, hips instinctively pushing back. "Just for you, Bambi," he managed, his voice strained, a raw edge of desire bleeding into his words.
Alastor’s smile stretched wider, a feral baring of teeth. "Good."
He shifted, aligning himself, the head of his cock brushing against the wet entrance. Lucifer gasped, his bound body tensing in anticipation. Alastor paused, savoring the moment, the exquisite tension, the knowledge that he held every ounce of control. He could feel the heat radiating from Lucifer's slick core, smell the heady musk that promised complete surrender.
Finally pressed forward, slowly, deliberately, into the welcoming warmth.
Lucifer let out a strangled cry, a sound torn between pain and pure pleasure as Alastor’s thick shaft began its slow, deliberate invasion. The ribbons bit into his skin, a delicious counterpoint to the stretching fullness that bloomed deep within him. His hips bucked instinctively, a primal, helpless response to the intrusion, pushing back against the delicious friction.
Alastor groaned, a guttural sound, his eyes half-lidded, glazed with feverish intensity. The warmth that engulfed him was beyond anything he’d ever known. The scent of apple and fertile doe intensified, drowning out all other senses, all rational thought. His carefully constructed composure, a lifetime of cultivated restraint, began to fray at the edges, dissolving under the tidal wave of instinct.
"Mine," Alastor rasped, the word a raw, possessive growl, his voice distorted by the static that now crackled around himl. He pushed deeper, burying himself to the hilt with a shuddering thrust that drew a breathless gasp from Lucifer. The sudden, overwhelming fullness made Lucifer’s legs tremble, his bound form arching violently, straining against the ribbons.
Alastor’s hands, no longer gentle, gripped Lucifer’s hips, his sharp claws digging into the plush fur of his buttocks, leaving faint golden trails. He began to move, slowly at first, each thrust filled with a primal sense of need that drove Lucifer further into a haze of sensation. The mattress creaked a frantic rhythm beneath them.
“Oh, Alastor… yes!” Lucifer cried out, his voice hoarse, his deer ears flattened against his head, twitching erratically. His tail thrashed wildly, slapping against Alastor’s pulsing abdomen, further igniting the inferno within him. The exquisite pressure against his G-spot, a constant, grinding friction, sent spasms through his core, making him whimper and whine like a true doe in heat.
Alastor’s movements became more frantic, more animalistic. His hips slammed against Lucifer’s with brutal force, each thrust driving deeper, harder, faster. He was a buck in rut, utterly consumed by the need to claim, to breed, to fill this willing vessel. The soft, blonde fur of Lucifer’s rump rubbed against his own darker fur, a sensory overload that pushed him closer to the edge. He leaned down, burying his face in the curve of Lucifer’s neck, teeth scraping lightly against the delicate skin beneath the twitching deer ear.
"My little doe," he snarled, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through Lucifer's entire body. He nipped at the soft flesh, a possessive bite that marked his territory, breaking the skin in the process. "You're mine, aren't you? So utterly mine."
Lucifer’s hips bucked harder, trying to meet each of Alastor’s powerful thrusts, a desperate dance of submission and desperate pleasure. His eyes, half-closed and glazed with lust, rolled back in his head as Alastor found a new rhythm, an unrelenting pace that stole his breath and shattered his control. The ribbons that held him captive now felt like a delicious torment, heightening every sensation, every plunge.
Alastor’s rut had fully taken hold. His vision was a blur of red and gold, his hearing filled with the roar of his own blood and Lucifer’s breathless cries. He wasn't thinking, he was feeling. The raw, untamed urge to pump his seed deep into this yielding warmth, to bind Lucifer to him in the most primal way possible, was all that mattered. He was a predator, and Lucifer, his beautiful, transformed doe, was his prey, utterly at his mercy, utterly consumed by him.
With a final, guttural roar that tore from his throat, Alastor emptied himself inside Lucifer, a torrent of hot, thick cum that flooded the king’s womb. He collapsed onto Lucifer’s back, panting, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his violent release, his heart hammering against Lucifer’s spine. The static around him intensified for a moment, then slowly began to recede, leaving behind the heavy scent of rut and spent pleasure.
Lucifer let out a long, shuddering sigh, his body utterly boneless beneath Alastor. He was slick with sweat and Alastor’s seed, his new vulva still weeping, swollen and exquisitely sensitive.
Alastor’s heavy, ragged breaths filled the silence, his body a dead weight pressing Lucifer into the mattress. The world was spinning slightly for Lucifer, the aftershocks of the climax still vibrating through his core. He waited until the worst of the tremors subsided, a slow, smug smile curling his lips despite his exhaustion.
“Well, Bambi,” Lucifer whispered, his voice breathless but dripping with amusement. He managed a light, teasing tone, despite the throbbing ache between his thighs. “Don't tell me the mighty Radio Demon is already winded?”
The static, which had been receding, snapped back into existence with a sharp crackle. Alastor instantly stiffened, lifting his head just enough to glare down at the king. His red eyes, still clouded with lingering rut-lust, narrowed dangerously. The challenge, however soft, had hit a primal nerve.
"Winded?" Alastor snarled, his voice a low, vibrating growl that promised retribution. "I merely paused," he hissed, leaning down to nip fiercely at the fur-lined curve of Lucifer’s shoulder, "to ensure my gift was sufficiently broken."
He didn’t wait for a reply. The thought of those confining ribbons, symbols of control now that he desired only complete, unrestrained access, suddenly infuriated him. He wanted Lucifer free, naked, and completely available.
Alastor lifted himself slightly, his clawed hands immediately going for the red satin that crisscrossed Lucifer’s back. He didn't bother with the intricate knots; he simply tore.
The sound of the thick ribbon snapping was loud in the bedroom, a sudden, aggressive sound. The pentagram harness across Lucifer’s chest gave way, the satin falling away.
Alastor moved swiftly, tearing each and every knot that secured Lucifer's arms behind his back.
Lucifer let out a surprised gasp, rubbing his freed wrists instinctively. The sudden release of tension was intoxicating, a new kind of freedom layered over the deep satisfaction of the rut.
Alastor then turned his attention to the legs, ripping through the thick bands that held Lucifer’s ankles bound closely to his thighs. The last of the restraints fell away, red satin scraps scattering across the pristine white sheets.
Lucifer’s legs uncurled instantly, stretching out in relief. He was completely unbound now, his golden fur exposed, his doe form fully revealed.
Alastor threw the shredded remnants of the ribbon aside with a dismissive flick of his wrist. He looked down at the now-free Lucifer, his smile widening into something truly predatory. The remaining exhaustion was gone, replaced by a renewed, burning hunger.
"You wanted to know if I was tired, my King?" Alastor asked, his voice low, smoky, and laced with promise. He placed a heavy, possessive hand on Lucifer’s newly liberated thigh, stroking the soft, blonde fur. "We have only just begun the unwrapping."
He didn't give Lucifer time to tease further. With a rough movement, Alastor grabbed Lucifer under the armpits and hauled him up and over, flipping the king onto his back. Lucifer landed with a soft thump on the mattress, his head thrown back, red and gold eyes wide with anticipation.
Alastor knelt between Lucifer’s spread thighs, his cock already hardening again, eager for the next round. This time, there were no barriers, no restraints. He gazed down at the exposed, wet and weeping cunt, the sight sending a fresh wave of primal lust through him.
"Now," Alastor purred, leaning in until his breath ghosted over Lucifer’s ear, "let's see how long the King can last when he has nowhere left to hide."
He pushed forward, driving into Lucifer with a swift, powerful thrust that stole the air from the king’s lungs and made the mattress groan beneath them. The sound of the static intensified, signaling that the rut was far from over.
The mattress groaned a protest beneath them, a symphony of creaking springs and desperate sighs joining the escalating static. Alastor’s initial thrust had been brutal, and Lucifer’s sharp inhale was a testament to its raw power. But as Alastor began to move, a slow, deliberate grind that quickly escalated into a relentless, piston-like rhythm, Lucifer’s gasps turned to moans, thick and guttural.
Alastor’s hands found purchase on Lucifer’s hips, digging in, urging him closer, deeper. He wasn't just fucking Lucifer; he was claiming him, branding every inch of that newly awakened flesh with his presence. The scent of rut and musk, thick and cloying, filled the air. Lucifer’s legs, freed from their silken prison, instinctively wrapped around Alastor’s waist, pulling him in even further, a willing captive in the Radio Demon’s relentless assault.
"No hiding, indeed," Lucifer panted, his voice a ragged whisper against Alastor's shoulder, a perverse joy dancing in his eyes as he met Alastor's furious gaze. His hips bucked, a desperate, instinctual movement that only served to deepen Alastor’s penetration, sending fresh jolts of pleasure straight to his core. The exquisite friction of Alastor’s thick cock sliding in and out of his wet, swollen cunt was a torment he wouldn't trade for anything.
Alastor growled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through Lucifer's entire body. The king’s defiance only fueled his possessive rage. He wanted to break Lucifer, to shatter that smug self-assurance and replace it with nothing but raw, unadulterated need for him. He wanted to hear Lucifer scream his name in desperate pleasure.
With a sudden, powerful surge, Alastor drove impossibly deep, pulling a choked cry from Lucifer. He held him there for a moment, impaled, before beginning to withdraw, only to plunge back in with renewed ferocity. The bed slammed against the wall with each thrust, a rhythmic beat to their frenzied dance. Lucifer’s hips lifted to meet every thrust, his body arching, desperate for the release that was building, a tempest gathering in his core.
The static around Alastor crackled like a bonfire, a roaring manifestation of his escalating desire. He watched, eyes blazing, as Lucifer’s face contorted with pleasure, his golden fur slicked with sweat, his lips parted in a silent scream. But it wasn't enough. Not yet. He wanted more. He wanted to feel the full weight of Lucifer, to absorb every tremble, every shudder.
With a grunt, Alastor braced himself, his hands sliding from Lucifer's hips to grip him firmly from his back. In one swift motion, he hauled the king upwards. Lucifer let out a surprised yelp, his legs instinctively tightening around Alastor’s waist as he was lifted, his hips still impaled, still grinding against Alastor’s unrelenting cock.
Alastor shifted, settling back onto his heels, his chest heaving. Lucifer, now straddling him, found himself perched precariously on Alastor’s lap, his pussy stretched and swollen around Alastor’s thick shaft. His own weight, combined with the intense friction, sent a dizzying wave of sensation through him.
"Is this better, my King?" Alastor purred, his voice a low, dangerous growl, his red eyes burning into Lucifer’s. He wrapped his arms around Lucifer’s waist, pulling him flush against his hips, forcing Lucifer to take the full, throbbing length of him. "Now you can truly feel every inch."
Lucifer gasped, his head falling back, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as Alastor’s words, with the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely, ignited a fresh wave of blinding pleasure. He could feel Alastor’s dick buried to the hilt inside him, sending tremors through his entire body. He was trapped, impaled, and utterly, gloriously undone.
"Fuck," Lucifer whimpered, a new note of desperation in his voice. He instinctively began to move, a slow, tentative grind at first, then faster, riding Alastor with an unrestrained need he hadn't known he possessed. His hands found Alastor’s shoulders, gripping them, his nails digging into the velvet of his coat as he rode the demon like a man possessed. The climax was building again, a relentless wave, and this time, there truly was nowhere left to hide.
The static around Alastor roared, a vibrant, living thing that pulsed with every thrust. Lucifer bucked and writhed atop him, each downward plunge driving Alastor’s rigid cock deeper, stretching him to his absolute limit. He was a symphony of gasps and guttural moans, his blonde fur now matted with sweat, his perfect features twisted in a mask of exquisite agony and growing ecstasy.
"That's it, my King," Alastor purred, a low, predatory rumble in his chest. His hands, still gripping Lucifer’s waist, guided the punishing thrusts, forcing Lucifer to take him harder, faster. He reveled in the sight of Lucifer’s eyes rolling back, a helpless sound escaping his throat as another wave of sensation threatened to consume him. He wanted to push him over the edge, but not yet. Not until he’d tasted every last drop of this delicious desperation.
With a sudden, savage impulse, Alastor buried his head to the doe’s shoulder, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. He fastened his jaw onto the soft flesh, just below his neck, biting down with a controlled ferocity that drew a sharp, surprised cry from the king. Golden blood, rich and shimmering, welled up from the twin punctures, a stark contrast against Lucifer’s pale coat.
Lucifer arched his back, a shudder tearing through him, part pain, part incandescent pleasure. His breath hitched, a strangled sob caught in his throat as Alastor’s tongue snaked out, a rough, possessive swipe that licked the warm, metallic tang of his blood clean from his skin. The intimate, violating act sent a jolt straight to his core, intensifying the friction below, making his already stretched pussy clench and release around Alastor’s thick shaft.
"Mine," Alastor growled, his voice thick with triumph, his tongue still tracing the bite mark, tasting the very essence of the King of Hell. The golden blood was intoxicating, a sweet, potent elixir that fueled his own escalating hunger.
Lucifer, lost in the havoc of sensation, didn't fight. His hands, trembling with a need so profound it bordered on madness, shot upwards, burying themselves in Alastor’s perpetually coiffed hair. He gripped the dark, silken strands, pulling and tugging with frantic desperation, his knuckles white against the crimson velvet of Alastor’s bob. He wanted to tear, to claw, to feel something as intensely as he was being felt. Each pull on Alastor’s hair was a silent plea, a desperate gasp for the release that danced agonizingly just out of reach.
He rode Alastor with a violent fervor, his hips slamming down, seeking to grind away the last remainder of control. The friction was unbearable, exquisite. Every nerve ending in his body screamed, a chorus of pleasure and torment. He was a live wire, sparking and sizzling, on the precipice of obliteration, and Alastor, the dark maestro, was conducting the symphony of his undoing.
"Alastor!" Lucifer whimpered, his voice ragged, a raw plea torn from the depths of his soul. His body began to tremble uncontrollably, the climax a monstrous wave building, threatening to crash over him and sweep him away. He was so close, so agonizingly close, the world narrowing to the exquisite friction, the scent of rut and blood, the feel of Alastor’s relentless thrusts deep inside him.
“M' so close.” Lucifer’s hips bucked, a violent, uncontrollable spasm, as his free hand shot down between them, fingers finding and grinding against his swollen clit. The friction was a white-hot spark igniting a powder keg. Alastor, sensing the precipice, held him fast, a vice-like grip on his hips, and with a guttural roar, thrusted upwards, a final, brutal plunge that slammed against Lucifer’s deepest core.
A shattering cry tore from Lucifer’s throat, echoing off the walls. His body seized, every muscle locking, trembling, then dissolving into a liquid heat. His vision exploded into a blinding kaleidoscope, seeing stars he had long forgotten. He was unraveling, every nerve ending firing, his pussy clenching violently around Alastor, milking him dry. He arched back, his head thrown back as wave after wave of shuddering ecstasy crashed over him, leaving him breathless, boneless, utterly undone.
Alastor, his own breath ragged, a feral growl vibrating deep in his chest, felt the vicious grip of Lucifer’s climax around him. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, hazed over, pupils dilating into black pools of pure lust. With a final, agonizing groan, a sound ripped from the very depths of his being, Alastor’s own release exploded within Lucifer. Hot, thick cum pulsed deep into the king. His body stiffened, a silent, powerful tremor shaking him from head to toe as the last remains of his control shattered.
The static around them peaked, a deafening shriek of triumph and satiation, then slowly, like a dying echo, began to lessen. Alastor, utterly drained, let out a long, shuddering breath. His grip loosened, his strength giving way. With a heavy, almost boneless sigh, he collapsed backward onto the mattress, taking the still-trembling Lucifer with him.
Lucifer landed with a soft thump on Alastor’s chest, his legs still wrapped around the other demon’s waist, his face buried in the crook of Alastor’s neck. Every inch of him throbbed with the aftermath of their violent communion. He was a glorious, gilded wreck, and Alastor, cradling him close, felt a profound, predatory satisfaction bloom in his chest.
“I'm not done with you.” Alastor muttered against Lucifer's ear.
“I know.” The king replied and lifted his head look at his lover. “Happy Sinsmas, Bambi.” He said fondly before leaning in and pressing a soft, tender kiss on Alastor's lips.
A child of Loki and a Guardian of Life make a deal that will benefit both despite their past and reputation.
But what will happen if love interferes with this deal? And what will happen if celestial politics mess with the said love?
Let's follow the two women, Leah and Disa, on their journey to find themselves and heal old wounds as their love grows, and they tackle obstacles that get in their way. But will their love last? Is it even pure love? Or is it a sense of safety that the deal creates?
Eva Wilson is an ordinary British teenager, just another girl with nothing remarkable about her life.
That is, until a car crash changed everything. In the moment between life and death, she unknowingly formed a contract with a demon-Sebastian Michaelis.
For Sebastian, this was no coincidence. He had been waiting for this moment. As a descendant of Ciel Phantomhive, Eva carried something unique within her - a soul eerily similar to that of the young Earl.
Summary: We're familiar with Khonshu's well-known Avatars, such as Marc Spector and Arthur Harrow, but have you ever wondered why there are so many? While other gods typically have just one Avatar from the beginning or none at all, what happened to Khonshu's first Moon Knight? Who was that enigmatic figure?"
Word count: 1.2K
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
A/N: English is not my first language and I really hope y'all like this because it is my first fanfic :) And sorry for disappearing for some time, many things came up and I didn't have much time to write.
Khonshu's P.O.V.
Chapter 4
When she finally left the physician's house, likely belonging to someone named Akil, I watched her make her slow way back toward the temple. Clad in a plain whitish robe similar to those worn by most of the other village women, she hugged to her chest the ritual clothes she had worn earlier, with her own blood glistening on them now, as she moved stiffly and clumsily around the oasis.
This time, I didn't follow her since I had a lot to process. As I reached the oasis, I looked down at the reflection of my eternal companion again.
Could this woman really have put herself in harm's way just for offering prayers to me? To express gratitude?
And she refused any help offered to her, maintaining her composure with a smile without turning the child away, despite their persistence, akin to bothersome insects?
She's got patience and faith when many people would not have. I have to give her that.
I thought as I glanced in her direction, she was approaching the dead thief. Curious about what she was doing, I decided to watch her actions. Expecting to see the usual acts of a vulture-foul actions and cruelty to the deceased. But, I was surprised to see gentleness in her actions. She picked up the crops and carried his body to the oasis’ edge.
What is she doing now?
Though this was a visible struggle for her due to her injury, she did not stop. Gently setting him down, she cleaned the wound on his head that she was responsible for, cleaning them with a cloth dampened with the oasis water.
Isn't she supposed to be punishing the man? After all, he tried to end her life, yet she shows respect to him?
She caught me off guard. Most mortals like her would retain intense hate for anyone who had crossed them, especially a person now dead and helpless. She, however treated his remains the same way his family would.
Wasn't she going to take vengeance on the man who wanted to take her life?
Contrary to my expectation of revenge, she instead chose an unexpected route of sympathy.
She had disturbed my expectations about human nature. If vengeance were to be sought, the fallen thief was given solace and care. Everything she had done today had moved against my expectations and made me ponder over the depth of human mercy.
After some moments of gazing upon her, I managed to tear my eyes away from her. I turned but to the reflection of the moon thinking.
Her kindness is exceptional, and her courage undeniable. She possesses a strength of character that sets her apart. Her unwavering devotion to pleasing us is also remarkable. She would never dare to disobey our commands, always striving to ensure our satisfaction and favor.
Her youth, naivety, and lack of combat experience pose significant challenges, particularly in the face of unpredictable threats like Ammit.
Yet, in all this she had one thing that the most seasoned warriors could desire-the resilience of someone who steps forward. Her resolve shines brighter than her frailty or the lack of skill. It's as if the spirit she holds carries the weight of ages, bound not by her own understanding but by something greater.
As I looked down between the ripples on the oasis, the moon's reflected face glittered-seemingly a reminder of my ever-watchful presence. This human creature, steeped in blood and unyielding heart alike, had somehow managed to stir in me curiosity I hadn't experienced in hundreds of years. She was more than a servant of the gods; there was something in her that demanded more from the world, from herself.
But what was it?
Something in me wanted more-a test for her to see if this kindness, this loyalty, would hold onto the face of true adversity. Will her heart stay pure, her actions still selfless when faced with deeper trials? Or would she, too, falter under the full weight of divine expectation, like so many before her?
I have to know.
The temple loomed ahead, and she slowed her steps, the tiredness catching up with her. I could feel the pain in her body, the ache in her muscles, yet she did not stop or utter a word of complaint. Her commitment bordered on reckless-or perhaps that was the only way she knew to live.
I watched her closely, unseen; yet, I could feel her subconscious awareness of my presence. The priestess glanced up as she knelt before my statue.There was no sound coming for her at first, only the quiet crackle of the flames and the soft shuffle of her bloodstained garments as she dropped onto the ground, her head bowed in supplication.
She is at her limits, her body screaming for rest. And yet here she is again, knelt before me.
Her lips moved in silent prayer, and though the words were indistinguishable to me, I knew their meaning. She was seeking strength, guidance-possibly even a sign. She was lost in the special way of mortals, torn between her own desires and the weight of her devotion. She had given so much already, yet she would prepare to give more. Always more.
Something stirred inside me, pulling me toward her in an instant that hadn't been there before. One couldn't deny her unyielding faith. But I couldn't shake the thought-the cost of such loyalty. Would she break under its strain? Or would she rise as I suspected she might, into something far greater than she ever imagined?
This human was different from any I had known. She had a pure heart, her will unyielding, but it was her willingness to give all-everything unto the very point of her very life-which set her apart. Almost everything that I had been seeking-what was required to confront the storm that was coming-she possessed.
I had been aware of the soft sigh that escaped her lips as she completed her prayer. Her eyes remained fixed on my statue as she slowly rose to her feet again. She seemed to be searching for a sign.
I gave her none. At least, not yet.
And as she left the altar, the temple fell into further silence. I was still there, looking at the flickering of the sacred flames and how they would throw a radiating length of shadow across the walls. My thoughts weighed heavy in the air, but somehow, they felt right.
In front of her, the path would be steeped in danger. Ammit stirred, her power growing ever closer. But this woman—this mortal who knelt before me with blood upon her hands and faith within her heart—was prepared. Maybe, not physically but her mindset was going to make everything come together in the end. She would face what was to come, not as a mere servant, but as my chosen, my warrior.
And I'd be there with her, every step of the way, guiding her from behind the scenes.
I have made my decision.
Tag List: @alittlechaotics-blog
Summary: We're familiar with Khonshu's well-known Avatars, such as Marc Spector and Arthur Harrow, but have you ever wondered why there are so many? While other gods typically have just one Avatar from the beginning or none at all, what happened to Khonshu's first Moon Knight? Who was that enigmatic figure?"
Word count: 1.8K
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
A/N: English is not my first language and I really hope y'all like this because it is my first fanfic :) Also, I know Khonshu has not showed up in any of the two recent two chapter but I promise the next one will
Marwa's P.O.V.
Chapter 3
My blood-saturated robes lay crumpled upon the cold stone floor as I was sitting on the wooden seat that was meant for the patients. Despite my efforts, my vision struggled to focus on anything as the lingering haze of dizziness returned to me once more. I looked at the shimmers that the dim light of the oil lamp that was sitting next to me made on the golden details of the ceremonial clothing and jewelry.
With gritted teeth, I stifled any involuntary sounds that threatened to escape my throat, sinking my teeth into the makeshift bit of wood that was given to me. Akil was kneeling on my left taking care of my wound.
The moment I felt the sharp point of the needle pierce my skin as he started to sew my cut back together a deep groan left me before I could muster the strength to suppress it. My hands gripped the edge of the seat trying to endure the pain that I felt as I was being helped. I took deep breaths from my nose and let them out as slowly as I could in an attempt to calm down only to come out as gasps.
“Almost there.” Akil's voice was heard from my side as he pierced my skin for one last time.
After he was done he took a slightly wet cloth and wiped the blood off my skin. I let out a sigh through my nose as I took out of my mouth the piece of wood feeling my jaw a bit sore from biting it so hard.
“I will ask you one more time, my dear. What happened?” Akil asked me again while he resumed his stance.
“A thief was threatening a mother and her child near the temple. I tried to help them and I got stabbed in the process. But I am fine now.” I explained to him as I stood up hissing slightly when I did that. My head was still feeling light so I wad having a hard time balancing myself. so I almost lost my balance
“I fear you may be underestimating the severity of your injuries, Marwa.” He helped me steady myself. “You should rest until the wound heals fully.” He suggested.
“We both know that will not happen, especially when the full moon is approaching,” I said softly as I leaned my weight off of him and onto the wall to maintain my balance.
"Marwa," he exhaled heavily, the weight of concern evident in his voice. "you know I admire your selflessness, your willingness to prioritize others, but we must address the matter of your own well-being. You have already lost too much blood and you have to rest.”
"I can't simply neglect my duties and the sacred rituals," I argued, a flicker of contempt growing inside me. "Ensuring the favor of the gods is essential for our protection and the harmony between the mortal and the divine realms. We're trusted with maintaining that balance, and we cannot afford to make mistakes."
“We will not neglect anything. I will take over and take care of everything that needs to be done.” He said.
"Akil, do you even hear yourself?" I questioned, my disbelief palpable as I fixed on the elder man in front of me with an unbelieving gaze. “You were the one saying that you will step back from your duties as a priest because your age and health will not allow you to continue. That's precisely why you've taken on the role of physician.”
“I am indeed listening to myself, but are you?” He shot back, his tone tinged with a blend of frustration and genuine concern. “Because refusing to rest when you have a stab wound on your side says otherwise.” Stepping closer, Akil placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, his expression a portrait of genuine concern. “I cannot stand by and let you hurt yourself further. You already acted stupid enough by jumping into a fight that is not yours knowing very well that you most likely will end up hurt.”
“I know you want to protect me and make sure I am safe… but I can’t let you tire or hurt yourself for me and I can’t just not react when people need help.” My voice was significantly lower at that moment. “I have duties to take care of and now two more people to make sure are safe. I know what I am doing, Akil.”
“No. No, you do not know what you are doing. Because if you were you wouldn’t endanger yourself.” he interjected, his frustration palpable as he distanced himself from me, withdrawing his hand.
“But I have to protect the people. I- We are devoted to Khonshu, we have to help. It is our duty to prot-”
“Not by getting ourselves killed!” He snapped at me. “Our devotion should be demonstrated through prayer and rhetoric, not by needlessly placing ourselves in harm's way.”
"What?" I exhaled sharply, disbelief mingling with a rising tide of anger in my voice. "So, your solution is to sit back and not help our people at all? Is that what you're suggesting?"
"So should had just stood back and watch that innocent woman and child, a freaking child get hurt or even killed? How can you suggest somrthing like that?” I demanded, my words laced with indignation. "To betray the very trust that was placed upon us by those who look to us for guidance and protction?"
I could not believe he was even saying this. The mere thought of harming the people’s trust made a weird tingling sensation rise in me. And the worst part is that it is coming from Akil.
Akil had been more than a mentor; he had been a father figure, raising me as his daughter, and guiding me through life's trials with unwavering support. His presence had been a constant source of comfort, his wisdom shaping me into the priestess I had become, entrusted with upholding the sacred duties of our temple. And only the thought of him supporting such an idea is disturbing.
My eyebrows frowned at the man before me, the embodiment of paternal care in my life.
How could he believe such things?
"We're not betraying anyone, Marwa. We're just keeping them content while ensuring our own safety," he explained, attempting to justify his flawed thinking.
"No, it's not that simple," I insisted. "People are entrusting their safety to us, Akil. We can't just brush that aside."
"It's dangerous. You could get seriously injured, or worse, killed. And all for strangers whose names you don't even know? People who would likely abandon you in a crisis?" he argued.
"I don't care if I get hurt or die. I don't care if I don't know them. And I don't care if they would abandon me. But I do care about keeping them safe, and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that," I declared.
"I can't let you put yourself in harm's way, Marwa. You're not continuing your duties for at least two weeks, until you're fully healed," he insisted.
I took a deep breath in to calm myself.
Why am I even arguing with him now?
"I appreciate your concern, Akil, I truly do," I replied, my tone softened but resolute. "But as the priestess, it's my duty to prioritize the safety and well-being of our people above my own. I can't simply step back and ignore that responsibility."
Akil sighed, frustration evident in his expression. "Marwa, you're not invincible. You need to consider your own safety too. We can find another way to ensure the safety of our people without putting yourself in unnecessary danger."
"I understand your concern, but I've made up my mind," I said firmly. "I will continue to fulfill my duties as the priestess, even if it means taking risks. It's what ypu’ve been trained for, what I've dedicated my life to."
Akil shook his head, his expression a mix of resignation and worry. "Fine, either way you would do whatever you wanted. But, at least, promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you won't put yourself in any unnecessary danger."
"I promise to do everything in my power to keep myself safe while fulfilling my duties," I reassured him with a small smile, though I knew that my definition of "safe" was more likely different from his.
With a heavy heart, Akil nodded, knowing that he couldn't talk me out of my chosen path.
I turned to pick up my blood-stained clothes from his floor and an uneasiness settled in me at the sight of my own blood. Once I turned to face him again he was holding a folded linen dress for me to put on since my current clothes were damaged.
“Thank you, Akil.” I thanked him as I accepted the dress. I put it on and as I was ready to leave I stopped myself turning back to hug him. “Thank you for everything… I will try to stay safe, I promise.” I muttered as I tightened my hug.
I felt wrong to argue with him. Especially when he is like a father to me, when he showed me the love that I would never had if not for him, when I am alive because of him.
“I know you will, my dear… I am just worried about you.” He hugged me back.
Moments passed and we finally broke the hug. I then proceed to leave his house and make my way back to the temple. After all, I had to clean up for the morning offerings and see what I would do with the thief.
As I walked away from Akil's presence, his words echoed in my mind. I knew that I must prioritize the welfare of our people above all else.
Yet, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of my mind.
Was I being too reckless, too idealistic in my pursuit of safeguarding others? Could I truly justify risking my own well-being for strangers, for faces I might never know beyond the chaos of a moment's crisis?
As I approached the temple, a sense of purpose swept over me, driving away the lingering doubts. Stepping through its hallowed halls, I felt a renewed sense of determination within me. Whenever I was in there I knew that whatever challenges were laying ahead, I would meet them head-on.
In the end, it wasn't just a matter of duty—it was a matter of honor, a testament to the sacred bond between priestess and people, a bond that I would uphold at any cost.
Summary: We're familiar with Khonshu's well-known Avatars, such as Marc Spector and Arthur Harrow, but have you ever wondered why there are so many? While other gods typically have just one Avatar from the beginning or none at all, what happened to Khonshu's first Moon Knight? Who was that enigmatic figure?"
Word count: 1.4K
Chapter 1
A/N: English is not my first language and I really hope y'all like this because it is my first fanfic :) Also, this one is a bit shorter...
Marwa's P.O.V.
Chapter 2
As I watched the woman and child vanish into the safety of the village, a wave of relief washed over me, fleeting but welcome amidst the chaos that had just unfolded. Yet, as the adrenaline began to ebb away, I couldn't ignore the searing pain emanating from the wound in my side—a stark reminder of the danger I had faced.
Clutching the fabric of my robes, I felt the warmth of my own blood seeping through the pristine white linen, staining it crimson. Each heartbeat sent a jolt of agony coursing through me, but I refused to submit to the pain.
Turning my gaze back to the temple, I took a hesitant step forward, the world spinning around me as dizziness threatened to overwhelm my senses. But I steadied myself, drawing upon the inner reserves of strength that lay deep within my being. With each step, I made my way back to the temple.
Like early today, even before the midnight ceremony started, I could sense a pair of piercing eyes burning holes through me but whenever I tried to find the source of it I found nothing. There was no one in the temple with me nor anywhere around it.
And now there they are again. I can feel the heavy gaze on me as I walk -or at least try to walk- back into the temple. This time I don’t bother to look behind me since I know that most likely there would be no one.
As I reached the temple steps, the pain in my side intensified with every movement. But I gritted my teeth and continued.
With a final surge of determination, I pushed open the heavy wooden doors, their creaking protest echoing through the silent chamber. The interior was bathed in a light glow, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows upon the stone walls. This place always helped me relax even as a little girl but not this time.
The temple seemed eerily empty, yet I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Summoning every ounce of strength I possessed, I dragged myself across the threshold and into the sanctuary of the temple. Collapsing onto the cold stone floor, I took in some deep breaths trying to calm my nerves and pain.
A small whine of pain left my throat as I shifted my position on the cold floor in order to be on my knees. I slowly lifted my eyes toward the vaulted ceiling, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down upon me.
"Oh, Khonshu, guardian of the moon, I offer my humble gratitude unto thee," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the solemn stillness of the temple. "For it is by thy divine grace that I stand here today, battered and broken yet still alive."
"Thank you for granting upon me the strength to fend off the thief who sought to plunder that which was not his own," I continued, my words infused with reverence and awe. "Thank you for lending me the courage to face adversity head-on, to stand firm in the face of danger and uncertainty."
"As I lie here, wounded and weary, I beseech thee, oh Khonshu, to grant me the resilience to endure the trials that lie ahead," I prayed, my heart heavy. "Watch over me, oh mighty god, and guide my steps along the path of your righteousness."
"With every breath I take, with every beat of my heart, I pledge my devotion to thee, oh Khonshu." I vowed, my words, a solemn oath to honor the divine entity that I had devoted myself to.
I remained still, nestled against the chill of the marble floor, savoring the solemn hush that enveloped this sacred space. Each breath I drew caused a sharp ache to radiate from the wound in my side, a reminder of the violence that had unfolded. I briefly shut my eyes, seeking the strength to get up. I had to go back to the village, to check on that woman and that child, to take care of my wound…
Gods, I wish you could help me…
I gritted my teeth and slowly stood back up making my way back to the village across the oasis.
All the familiar faces that I was seeing every night and day in the temple during ceremonies, the faces that were living peacefully in this forgotten place, were all looking at me as I walked towards the physician’s house.
I could hear the small gasps as people noticed the blood on the side of my ceremonial robes. Some of them tried to help me get to my destination but I motioned them to step back.
I knew I needed help and those people were genuinely worried about me so they offered assistance and had no ill thoughts behind it. But I could not accept it. I am their priestess, the one that was supposed to be strong and guide them through their difficulties, I cannot be weak. I need to keep my head up and show no weakness.
As I was approaching our physician's Akil's house I felt a soft tug on my clothing. I turned to see the source of it and I saw a young girl, Heba.
Oh my, I thought the kids would have been asleep by now.
“Are you feeling well, my priestess?” The girl asked politely but with worry and concern in her eyes as her eyes were glancing from mine to the blood on the fabric.
I managed to smile softly at her.
“Yes, my sweet child. It is nothing that you should worry about.” I spoke slowly in an attempt to keep my voice steady. I placed my clean hand on her head reassuringly as I offered her another smile.
Her worry lessened at my words and I was somewhat relieved, the last thing I wanted was to scare the children. As I looked at her eyes again I could see that something more was troubling her.
“Will you be healed till the morning? For the morning offering?” She asked me as the minor anxiety was still visible in her slightly frowned brows.
I wish I was, my child…. I wish I was...
“Of course I will, my dear Heba. The offering will be done as always. There is no reason to keep you little mind troubled. Now, go to your mother and get ready to sleep, it’s late.” I spoke softly and as steadily as I could with my side still throbbing from the pain.
She nodded at my words and gave me a small sympathetic smile as she walked away back to her home.
The rest of the people had witnessed the whole conversation and I could see the doubt they had about my words in their eyes. They knew that it would not be healed till the morning, that it would be best for me to not do the ceremony. Gods, I knew that too. But also I knew that there was no one else to take my place and seeing the distress in Heba’s eyes about not doing the offering and probably enraging the gods. I can’t let that happen. I cannot let down the people nor the divine entities from above.
I am responsible for ensuring the earth and heavens remain as the gods created them.
I cannot let anyone down.
I have no room for weakness nor mistakes.
I took a deep breath in and continued my way to find Akil. Once I reached his door and knocked he opened after some moments. Upon seeing me he smiled, oblivious of everything that had happened. But when he saw the signs of pain painted in my features his smile dropped and as his mouth opened to say something his eyes landed on the crimson color that my white robes were stained.
Without saying a single word he rushed me in and closed the door behind him. He also considered covering the windows so no one could see me like this before turning to face me.
“What happened?” He asked as he started to prepare every needed to treat my wound.
Summary: We're familiar with Khonshu's well-known Avatars, such as Marc Spector and Arthur Harrow, but have you ever wondered why there are so many? While other gods typically have just one Avatar from the beginning or none at all, what happened to Khonshu's first Moon Knight? Who was that enigmatic figure?"
Word count: 2.3K
A/N: English is not my first language and I really hope y'all like this because it is my first fanfic :)
Khonshu's P.O.V.
Chapter 1
As the desert sands yield to the fertile embrace of an oasis, I approach the village that was built around the source of that fertility—a solitary beacon amidst the vast expanse of the wilderness. The moon hangs overhead, casting its silvery light upon the humble dwellings below. The air is alive with the sounds of life—the laughter of children, the chatter of villagers, the timeless rhythm of existence echoing through the night.
Drawing closer, I observe the village. Each building is a testament to the resilience of humanity, weathered by time yet standing strong against the ravages of nature. Smoke rises lazily from chimneys, carrying with it the scent of home-cooked meals and hearth fires—a comforting reminder of the warmth that lies within.
As I enter the village, I am met with the villagers going on with their usual routines. Women cooking, men coming back from a tough day in the fields, and children running around and playing with one another. I observe them as they go about their lives—their joys, their sorrows, their hopes, and their dreams. Each face tells a story—a story of struggle and triumph, of love and loss, of the eternal dance between light and shadow.
Its mud-brick buildings bathed in the ethereal light of the moon. Shadows dance upon the walls, casting intricate patterns upon the sand-strewn streets. Lanterns flicker in the night, their warm glow illuminating the faces of the villagers.
At the heart of the village lies the oasis—a shimmering pool of moonlit waters that reflects the celestial canopy above. Date palms sway gently in the breeze, their fronds rustling softly in the night. Crickets chirp in the darkness, their rhythmic song blending with the murmur of the nearby stream.
As I walked up to the shore of the small water body and looked at the crescent moon I sighed.
I’ll find the right one soon… I feel it… I thought to myself.
When my eyes drifted upwards ready to continue my search I noticed a magnificent structure rising from the desert sands—a temple. Bathed in the soft glow of torches and lanterns, its towering columns and intricate carvings stand as a testament to the craftsmanship of the Egyptian people.
The temple's facade is adorned with hieroglyphs and reliefs depicting scenes of celestial splendor—a celestial procession of gods and goddesses, their forms illuminated by the radiant light of the moon. At its entrance, two colossal statues flank the doorway, their stern visages gazing out into the night with unwavering vigilance.
This will be interesting.
I muttered to myself as I approached the scared temple curious to see who this temple is devoted to. The moment I walked closer I stopped dead in my track as my gaze met with a statue of me next to one of Ra.
This already got too interesting.
Carved from polished obsidian, the statue of me towers over the temple's entrance with an imposing presence. Atop a slender neck, the head of a falcon is sculpted with meticulous detail, its piercing eyes gazing out into the infinite expanse of the cosmos. The falcon's beak is sharp and proud. Adorned with a headdress of gleaming gold and lapis lazuli.
Great. Another falcon-head statue of me. Why is it so hard for them to get that I am not a damn falcon?
I shook my head in mild annoyance and disappointment.
I protect them and they cannot get one thing right.
I sighed again as I walked into the torch lighted halls of the temple. In the hallowed halls of my temple, a young priestess moves with graceful purpose, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished stone floors. Draped in robes of white linen adorned with intricate hieroglyphs that shimmer in the dim light, she carries herself with an air of quiet reverence as she goes about her sacred duties.
Well, that’s new.
I thought as I kept observing the female priest, a rare sight within the sacred confines of my temple. As far as I could recall, almost all of the priests who tended to my sanctuary were males—stoic figures, their voices resonating with the weight of ancient rituals and solemn prayers. Seeing a woman being devoted to me was... odd.
Yet, as I watched her move with fluid grace through the temple's hallowed halls, tending to the sacred relics and preparing for the midnight ceremony, I couldn't help but feel a stirring of curiosity. There was a quiet strength in her demeanor, a sense of purpose that belied her tender years. I couldn't help but marvel at her dedication and sincerity. There was a quiet resolve that spoke volumes of her faith and commitment to my teachings. Despite the rarity of her presence, she seemed undeterred, her spirit undiminished by the conventions of tradition.
And yet, beneath my curiosity, there lingered a sense of apprehension—a nagging uncertainty born of unfamiliarity. How would the other priests react to her presence? Would they welcome her with open arms, or would they view her as an outsider, a disruption to the established order?
As she moved about the temple, her movements fluid and purposeful, there were moments when she turned towards me, her gaze searching the shadows with a mixture of reverence and curiosity. Though she could not see me, hidden as I was in the veil of darkness, I could feel the weight of her gaze upon me—a silent question lingering in the air, begging to be answered.
In those fleeting moments, I felt a strange stirring within me—a longing to reveal myself, to offer her the reassurance she sought. And yet, I held back, cloaking myself in the cloak of invisibility, unwilling to disturb the delicate balance between mortal and divine for now.
And so, I watched from the shadows as she continued her sacred duties. Each glance in my direction was a silent invitation—an invitation to reveal myself.
As the moments passed I let my gaze linger on the priestess who seemed to possess an ethereal beauty that seemed to radiate from within, casting a luminous glow upon her delicate features. My mind immediately thought that her parents must have consecrated her to Hathor, there must be no other explanation.
Her skin, kissed by the desert sun, bears the warm hue of burnished bronze, illuminated by the soft light of torches and lanterns that line the temple's walls.
Her eyes, almond-shaped and the color of rich amber, sparkle with a wisdom that belies her youthful countenance. They hold a depth of emotion—a reflection of the countless prayers and offerings she has witnessed in her role as guardian of the temple.
Her hair, a cascade of ebony curls, frames her face in a halo of darkness, accentuating the graceful curve of her cheekbones and the soft contours of her jawline. Adorned with delicate ornaments of gold and precious stones, her hair shimmers like the night sky, a testament to her status as a servant of the divine.
Her robes, woven from the finest linen and adorned with intricate hieroglyphs and symbols, drape elegantly over her slender frame, flowing like moonlit silk as she moves about the temple.
Soon people started to enter the main hall where the altar was filled with the offering that the priestess had placed. I moved closer to the altar to have a look at the goods they were offering. They had wine, beer, bread, honey, fruit and vegetables. They even offered salt and essential oils.
I guess I will stay a bit longer.
I stayed in the back of the hall as the ceremony started. I could hear and feel every little prayer, every small plea from all the people. At times, the sensation is one of overwhelming gratitude—a deep sense of appreciation for the faith and devotion of those who seek solace in my divine presence. Their prayers are like offerings, imbued with the sincerity and purity of their intentions, filling me with a sense of warmth and fulfillment.
Yet, there are also moments of solemn reflection—a recognition of the weight of responsibility that comes with the power of divine intervention. Each prayer carries with it the hopes and dreams of those who utter it. Many mortals had accused me of neglecting their wishes but those people are the ones who do not understand that you cannot be given something because you asked for it. You have earned it, to work for it.
As the ceremony went on the prayers continued to come into my ears but even if I was in a room full of believers who prayed to me I could still hear hers loud and clear. Like something is making her pleas and prayers stronger than the rest. Like something is trying to tell me to pay close attention to her.
Once an hour passed after midnight the ceremony came to an end and people started to leave the temple while some chatted with one another and some mothers were scolding their children. Everyone had the left and only the priestess stayed back to take care of the rest of the after-ceremonial duties. I stayed back too for some reason as something deep in me wanted to observe her more.
As the silence of the temple enveloped me, a cry for help shattered the peacefulness of the night—a desperate plea that echoed through the hallowed halls with a chilling urgency. My divine senses prickled with awareness, the sound stirring a primal instinct within me—a call to action that could not be ignored.
With a silent command, I willed myself to the temple's threshold, my divine form passing through solid stone as though it were air. Outside, the night sky loomed overhead, a tapestry of stars that bore witness to the unfolding drama below.
Beneath the moon's watchful gaze, the priestess emerged from the temple, her eyes wide with concern and determination. In her hands, she clutched a torch as she rushed in the direction of the cry.
As the priestess hurried on the grains of sand, her senses heightened by the urgency of the situation, she heard the unmistakable sound of a struggle ahead—a desperate cry for help that cut through the night like a knife. With a sense of dread gnawing at her heart, she quickened her pace
Rounding a corner, her eyes widened in horror as she beheld the scene before her—a woman, her face twisted in terror, clutching a small child to her chest as a hooded figure loomed over them, brandishing a gleaming dagger with malicious intent.
Without hesitation, the priestess sprang into action, her voice ringing out with a command that brooked no argument. "Hey!" she cried, her words infused with the authority of divine conviction. "Let them go!"
What is she doing? She will get herself killed. I thought as I watched the scene unfold in front of me.
The thief turned towards her, a snarl twisting his lips as he sized up this unexpected adversary. But she stood her ground, her eyes blazing with righteous fury as she took a couple of steps towards him.
With a curse, the thief lunged forward, his dagger gleaming in the dim light. But she was ready, her movements though were sloppy and unsure. She tried to dodge the attacks of the thief. It was obvious that she didn’t know how to fight but she kept trying.
Her attempts though were not successful since the hooded man managed to stab her left side. She let out a loud cry of pain as the metallic blade pierced through her robes and her delicate skin. The man pushed her back and she fell on the ground bleeding.
The thief let out some more curses and he turned back to the mother who was now sobbing at the sight of the blood-covered knife. I was ready to interfere to stop the thief and save the two women and the child. But before I could even take a step forward the young priestess was back on her feet and she crushed a big stone that was lying nearby on the man’s head. His head started to bleed and he fell unconscious on the sand below.
I was stunned.
The mother let out yet another cry before the young woman whose robe was damped in her own blood stumbled over to her and placed her hand on her shoulder.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, her heart heavy with concern for their well-being even though she was clenching the stab wound on her side.
The woman nodded, her eyes brimming with tears as she clutched her child tightly to her chest. "We... we are unhurt, thanks to you," she managed to say, her voice trembling with emotion.
The priestess offered her a soft smile even though she was clearly in pain. She helped them up and she bit her lip to silence a whine that was threading to escape her lips. "You are safe now," she said, her voice reassuring. “Go into the village and say that you will be my guest, priestess Marwa's. Whatever you need you can ask for it. We will take good care of you and your child.” she pointed at the village that was across the oasis.
Marwa? That’s an interesting name.
“But you are bleeding. Don’t you need anything? To help you get to a physician? Or call someone to help you?” The mother asked in concern at the sight of the blood on the white robes.
“I am good. You can go and I will follow you soon after.” Marwa said. The other woman obviously wanted to object and help the young priestess but she just nodded before turning around and heading to the village.
I stayed and watched Marwa as she stood there bleeding and looking at the woman with the child in her arms entering the village. Then I thought that she would follow and go somewhere to treat her wound but instead, she turned towards the temple again.
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