#moon knight ff

[foreverinadais]

Pairing: Ex! Jake Lockley x reader 

Summary: You really didn’t plan on hooking up with your ex. But he’s just so...

Warnings: smut themes, slight angst- talks of being exes, cussing, needy! jake and needy! reader --- part of the ex! moon boys series but all chapters can be read as standalone :)

ex! series: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

words: 500 

“This doesn’t feel like we’re breaking up.” You whimper, hands grabbing at the buttons of his shirt, desperate for it to be off.

“We are.” He said, but something told you he was hardly listening as he pulled off his shirt in one swift move. Your hands were already on his chest, feeling the skin as you had a million times.

“Maybe… maybe this is a mistake. Might make it… harder- fuck.” His lips on your neck had you fighting back a groan, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Just need’ta feel you, Cariño.” And the desperation in his tone made you quiver.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. You hadn’t planned for this to happen when you’d messaged him and asked if you could pick up some of your stuff you’d left at the flat. Jake had agreed almost too fast; perhaps that should’ve been a sign.

But you were secretly hoping for this, for something. For his touch and his skin and his words.

You sighed in pleasure as he bit at the skin above your collarbone. “Jake…” His name fell so naturally off your lips it almost scared you.

“Shhh, Mi Amor, lemme take care of you, yeah?” His fingers were travelling down your body, ghosting over the top of your jeans, stopping to rest just above your waistband. “No strings attached. Just need’ta feel you, just one more time, por favor?”

You probably should’ve said no. Said that it was too fresh, too risky, especially when the mere thought of them made your heart throb. But his hands were so familiar. He knew your body well, too well, knew every crevice, every spot that made you scream. They all did. You wondered often how you could ever possibly be with another person again. How anyone could make you feel as good and as complete as they did.

You nodded, and Jake was already guiding you to lay back on the sofa. “Look at you, so needy f’me. So fucking good, missed this, missed you.” In any other situation, you might’ve dug into his confession deeper, assessing the unresolved feelings left between the two of you. Instead, you let your head fall back, let his hands send your mind into that place only they could send you.

“Please.”

“Fuck, missed your begging, baby.” He teased, settling in between your legs, discarding your jeans quickly and swinging your legs over his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Cariño, I’ve got you. You can let go, so good f’me. Always been so good.” The grin he sent you sent electricity through your body, your lips parting in a silent cry.

It crossed your mind once again that maybe sleeping with your ex was a bad idea. But then all thoughts left your body.

That would be tomorrow’s problem.

[sweetenedbystevengrant]

moon knight masterlist

**should these works be missing content warnings or have incorrect and/or hurtful misconceptions, please notify me via messaging or ask! i will fix or remove as necessary**

steven grant

FICS TO BE ADDED

marc spector

FICS TO BE ADDED

jake lockley

FICS TO BE ADDED

featuring all alters together

FICS TO BE ADDED

[katyspersonal]

Oh we're doin' doodle requests now *clears throat* can we have a free Messmer doodle? Maybe a rellana if that's not to much.

( @izunias-meme-hole )

No problem, it was actually fun!

I will color these doodles both when I dump everything in one post, just not right now :pensive:

[anatee]

Work of Art | Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant | 18+

I may make a second part to this.

Word count: 2.9K

Content warning: f!reader x Marc & Steven (focus on Marc); mentions of violence, blood and wounds but nothing too crazy; a few curse words; smut: oral (f receiving), handjob (m receiving)

Steven: On my way! I'll grab us a few snacks for afters.

A big smile graced Y/N's face as she read the text from her boyfriend. It's been a few days since she saw him, constantly busy with work, and there were no appropriate words to describe how much she missed him.

As soon as she got the message, she jumped into the shower, wanting to be nice, clean and fresh for his arrival. She heard the door of the apartment open while she was wiping herself with the towel, and she simply could not wait any moment longer. She wrapped the towel around herself and came out of the bathroom like this, smiling from ear to ear as she walked towards the living room.

"Hi, Steven, love! I was preparing us dinner, it's almos re..." She bumped into the man walking out from behind the corner, then looked up, and one look was enough to let her know it was not Steven in front of her. "Marc."

It sure was him. She could judge it just by the look in his eyes, and he was not happy.

"Marc," he repeated with a raspy voice, as if to confirm she was right. He was breathing heavily, and she could tell by how he clenched his jaw that something bothered him.

"What happened?" she asked in shock, taking a step back so as to see him better.

"A bit of trouble on the way." He shrugged, then raised an eyebrow at her. "Why? You're not happy to see me?

Y/N rolled her eyes. As much as she loved both of them, getting along with Marc was sometimes a bit of a challenge. Feisty one, he was, but then again - it was a part of his charm. Just not one she was expecting while waiting for Steven.

"You know that's not the case." She put her hand on his cheek, then looked him up and down and finally noticed his bloody knuckles. "You're hurt."

He immediately turned to walk back into the living room. "It's nothing."

"Didn't you put on the suit?" she asked with a sigh, following him still just in the towel.

He shook his head, avoiding her judgemental gaze. "There was no time. Steven didn't want to give up the control, he almost got ourselves killed."

She grabbed him by the wrist and took a look at his knuckles, then shook her head. "Both of you are irresponsible."

"Hey, I took care of it, okay?"

"Yeah, I see. With blood."

"I'll be fine."

"Spare me the bullshit and sit your ass down, Spector." She grabbed him by the arm and forced him to sit down on the couch. He didn't look too happy about it, but didn't fight her.

"You would never say that to Steven."

Jealous. He always was.

"Yeah, because Steven would let me patch him up," she bit back as she began walking to the bathroom again, and for the first time, Marc's fury died down a little... And he noticed his surroudings. He realised that all this time, she had just a towel around her - and probably nothing else underneath.

He swallowed, his mind immediately wandering away from the thoughts of the fight he just had, and walking elsewhere... To the body he had not seen yet.

The relationship was still partly fresh. Y/N did not mind that dating Steven - whom she met first - was a package deal, for he shared the body with Marc, but they were very different people, and wanted different things out of a relationship - and they were at different stages. However, neither Steven nor Marc had seen the body of their lover yet. And although they both wanted it, Steven would never dare ask; Marc, on the other hand...

She came back to him with a few things, this time wearing a bathrobe, but it did not fool Marc. He highly suspected she was still naked underneath it; her absence was too short. She wouldn't have had the time to put something on...

"Don't stare like that."

Marc turned his head to see Steven as a reflection in the glass coffee table and swallowed.

"I'm not," he mumbled quickly.

"What?" Y/N asked, and Marc turned his attention to her immediately.

"Nothing." He swallowed again, looking her up and down. That bathrobe was short, showing more of her legs than he'd ever seen, and boy, was that a view to enjoy.

"Okay, let's fix this." She sighed as she picked up the disinfectant she brought.

"Y/N, I can..."

"Can what?" she cut him off as their eyes met, then let out a sigh. "Marc, I am not even asking more about what happened. Just let me take care of you, okay?"

"But this is..." he began.

"Marc. Let her."

Steven's voice did it. Marc's aggressive attitude disappeared and he eventually let himself calm down. He glanced at Steven, and he seemed to really want Marc to get along with Y/N better. To Spector's surprise, he wasn't even asking for control - he just cheered on him.

Marc let out a sigh, then turned back to her and eventually let down his defences.

"Sorry," he said quietly, not meeting her gaze. "I know you want to help. Sorry."

She sighed as well, letting herself calm down, too. She knew it was difficult for him. Marc was a bit aggressive at times, but she did find herself being a bit rougher on him than she was on Steven. They were even.

"It's fine." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, too. I just worry, that's all."

"Okay, okay."

An awkward silence followed as Y/N dipped a gauze in the disinfectant, then grabbed Marc's wrist ever so gently. She began cleaning his knuckles with great focus, trying to be as delicate as possible. He felt an unpleasant stinging sensation, but didn't even flinch, letting her do her job. His eyes wandered again; while she was bent over his hand, some of her cleavage was showing, and it was getting more and more difficult not to notice it.

He shook his head, then looked back at his knuckles, which were being cleaned as gently as though made from fine china.

"You're being very gentle with me."

"I'm not Khonshu," she said with a soft smile, making them both chuckle slightly.

"I actually... Kind of like it. You taking care of me, that is."

She looked up at him, smiling slightly, and that smile made his heart race. When his anger was gone, the world seemed completely different, and his feelings for her were growing.

"Is this why you keep getting in trouble?"

"Maybe?"

She giggled, and he smiled, clearly proud of himself. He glanced at Steven - he was smiling, too, the tension from before all gone.

"I can take care of you in other ways, you know?" she said, still cleaning his knuckles. "Like today, I made dinner for you, me, Steven..."

"It's different. You don't touch me when you make dinner."

She looked up at him, this time giving him her full attention. "And you like my touch this much?"

Marc swallowed, weighing his words. He didn't mean to sound like a jealous freak.

"You must admit you're mostly gentle to Steven."

"Well, it must be because of the charm." She looked back at his knuckles. "The Brits practically invented charm."

"And Americans?"

She tried to stifle her laugh as she looked back at him. "And Americans landed on the Moon."

Surprisingly, Marc laughed, too. "Touche."

"But in all seriousness, Marc, it's not because I don't like you or anything. I just... I figured Steven likes the gentle treatment, and you don't."

"Well, sometimes, but..." He sighed. "Steven exists because I never had the gentle treatment. I had to make him up to get it."

Y/N let go of his hand, and looked him in the eye with guilt all over her face.

"I... Never thought it about like that." She looked down. "You're right. You need that more than anything... Oh, Marc," she whispered, then hugged him quickly before returning to cleaning the other parts of his arm that were stained with blood.

After a few seconds of silence, she laughed quietly to release the tension. "Well... At the very least, some scars are sexy."

"Oh?"

"That does not mean I want you to have more!" she said immediately, knowing full well Marc might take her words as an invitation. He just laughed, his eyes wandering to her cleavage once again.

"You are looking... Quite sexy yourself today."

Her eyes widened as she set the dirty gauze aside. She knew Marc was braver, yet somehow this bold compliment still surprised her. It seemed to have moved something in her, warmth spreading through her quickly as she met his gaze.

"Am I?" she leaned a bit closer, smiling at him sweetly, and it was enough for Marc.

He grabbed her by the hips and kissed her passionately, with so much force she felt herself melt into the couch. He took her breath away, and she did not mind one bit.

"Whoa," she panted, looking at him after he broke off the kiss, feeling like she had never felt before after one, "you sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet."

Marc cupped her face in both his hands, watching her cheeks redden.

"Why does Steven like being in the museum so much... When we have a work of art at home?"

She could feel herself melt at these words. Who would have thought Marc could be this charming?

There was a moment of silence, before the tension became too much to bear.

Y/N felt her back hitting the back of the couch again, and her hands being raised above her head. No words were spoken; they didn't need them.

Marc's mouth found hers, hot and needy, and they both kissed back with equal enthusiasm.  Any coldness disappeared irreversibly in a few seconds, heated by their bodies, over which they ran their hands unconsciously, as if they wanted to touch every inch, explore it with their own fingertips, leave their mark on them...

They didn't think of anything, they couldn't;  the memories of their little disagreement completely blurred, they gave in to the emotions that had been in the air from the very beginning.  Having gained superhuman strength from adrenaline, Y/N tore Spector's shirt with a few movements, and he eagerly threw it off. Freeing his hands from the sleeves, he placed them on the hips of his girl, who could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. Without breaking away from him, she wrapped one leg around his hips, and this stimulated the only thought in Marc's head that he could muster at that moment: getting to the bedroom.

He grabbed her thigh, encouraging her to wrap her other leg around him. She did so unconsciously, and once she did, Marc lifted her up, heading straight for the nearest room - her room.

He threw the door open and licked her lip. She almost lost her breath and didn't even have time to regain it before he fell onto the bed with her.

"Do you want this?" he whispered, taking her face in one hand.  It was then that they both really realized what had happened... And they didn't want to stop.

Y/N felt as if she were lying on hot sand, feeling the fluffy blanket that covered the bed beneath her. All she wanted was to get out of her bathrobe.

"Yes," she confirmed, breathing heavily, but not taking her eyes off of his, which were boring into her. He watched as her chest rose and fell rapidly, her cleavage almost fully exposed to him.

"Take this bathrobe off," she ordered, making Marc visibly shudder.

"Your wish," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her neck, "is my command."

Her body was perfect, or so Marc thought as he eyed it as he tossed her bathrobe to the floor.  The skin was enveloped in a soft light coming from the window that highlighted every curve and bulge, as if emphasizing them on purpose so that Marc wouldn't miss them.

He wasn't going to; he admired it thoroughly, like one of the works Steven enjoyed so much, and was surprised that no one had ever made a painting with her in the main role.

For some reason, Y/N wasn't at all embarrassed by his gaze, which he liked even more. He felt like he could stare at her like that for hours, but that wasn't where either of them were going. She knew she could trust him; no matter how aggresive Marc could get while protecting people, he would never hurt her, just like Steven.

"You're like a painting," he admitted to her, cupping her face in one hand as he held her with the other just above her.

"Am I?" she asked with a laugh, then surprised him by suddenly rising to a sitting position. "And you're like a sculpture," she whispered, running her hands over his hot torso and stopping them on the waistband of his trousers. "And it so happens that today they took down the do not touch sign in the museum..."

She had barely finished the last sentence when she covered his mouth with hers again, forgetting about the whole world.

Letting him do whatever he wanted with her mouth, she began to struggle with his pants, unable to unzip them properly.

"How many more zippers do you have, Spector?" she whispered between kisses.

"Too hard for you?" Marc asked, laughing and not breaking away from her. "Is this your first time doing that?" he added, placing his hands on her hips.

"You rascal..." she choked out, trying to sound furious, but failed, because at the same moment one of Marc's hands landed on her chest. "Now I'll show you..."

The sudden rush of pleasure and adrenaline made her stop struggling. She ripped open the zipper and immediately began to pull his pants down to his knees where he was kneeling.

"Get up," she ordered, resting her forehead against his and looking at him with what Marc was ready to describe as fire in her eyes.

"No, you get up," he replied determinedly.

"You have nothing left to take off of me. Get up." She grabbed his hips, encouraging him to stand up, but he stopped her.

"Oh, baby, I'm not Steven," he whispered, then moved his lips to her jaw and then lower, constantly running his hands over her breasts. She stopped struggling, allowing herself to enjoy the waves of pleasure that coursed through her naked body as Marc kissed, licked and bit the delicate skin of her neck.

Y/N didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but she couldn't keep herself from making any sounds for long. Marc was starting to get bored of her neck, so he began to move lower, creating a trail of kisses that reached one of her breasts, then even lower, to her stomach, and finally to her thighs...

"Holy shit...!" she exclaimed, grabbing the blanket she was sitting on. She spread her legs wider, allowing Marc's head between them. Y/N shuddered when she felt Spector's breath on her clit... And then his lips.

"Fuck, the first guy who knows where a woman has her cl... Oh, for the love of Khonshu... "

She was unable to form any coherent sentences for the next few minutes. She was shaking with pleasure, clutching the blanket so tightly that her own nails digging into her palm hurt.

Just when Y/N thought she was going crazy, Marc suddenly withdrew. He did it on purpose;  he didn't want to end it all so quickly.

"You just didn't..." she said, looking incredulously at Spector, who straightened up in front of her.

A mischievous laugh left his lips and he wiped his lip with his thumb.

"I just did," he said with satisfaction, then looked at the window, where Steven was watching both of them. "Steven, you like the view?"

And although Steven was all red in the face, he nodded, and wanted Marc to continue.

"See? Steven enjoys the view just as much as I do..." Marc smirked. "And we will both give you pleasure, Y/N."

She smiled. It was one thing to be desired by one man, but two? And both of them shared the most incredible body...

A moment later, Marc was also completely naked and stood in front of the bed, waiting to see what she would do. Y/N walked to stand right in front of him, immediately placing her hands between his legs.

"Now you'll get the taste of your own medicine, Spector..." she announced, moving her hands.

"Will I?" he asked, then suddenly cleared his throat as she moved even closer to him.

"I won't let you enjoy it until the end either..." she said, and then started to repay him for the previous few minutes with no less enthusiasm. Marc didn't even have anything to hold onto to help himself survive the rush of emotions and heat that he felt as her hand moved along his cock. He held her arms, squeezing them as Y/N hit the perfect spots.

The feelings from a moment ago immediately began returning to her, flowing from head to toe. She liked it, but she was also impatient; she didn't want to wait any longer.

"Enough of this," she said, taking a step back. "You can do whatever you want to me now," she added, walking backwards onto the bed, where she finally lay down, and then spread her legs.

Marc's heartbeat accelerated dangerously - but he didn't need her to repeat.

"Gladly."

[futileflim]

I just wanted to put my fave characters don't worry about the 'guess my type' bit lol

[purple--queen]

[xenonmoon]

of course he's not fit for christmas he's jewish

[groundrunner100]

Transformers: Rise of The Beasts Director, Steven Caple Jr., Says Continuity Is Not Important In The Live-Action Transformers Franchise.

Would it be wrong to say Transformers is going through the same crap that Star Wars & Star Trek are going through?

[embracethemadmess]

Me: *sees none of my bookmarked ffs has got an update in weeks* all hurt no comfort

[luke-o-lophus]

Spam AO3 comment:

Me: Sir this is a xReader pain play smut

[novaursa]

Where Banners Fall

- Summary: After your fall at Rook’s Rest, Gwayne takes you to safety and some hidden things come to light.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Rhaenyra's sister and bonded with Silverwing. This part continues just after The Flames We Carry. For all parts done in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

-Rating: Mild 13+

- Word count: 3 320

- A/N: Yeah, this one was not ment to come out today either, but you all liked the last part very much, so, here is the continuation of it. Enjoy! ❤️

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The moon casts its pale light through the dense trees, illuminating the night in a silvery glow. The wind is cold, biting through layers of bloodied cloth, as Gwayne Hightower clutches the reins with one hand and his side with the other. His breath comes ragged, each inhalation a struggle as the gash Cole delivered sends jolts of fire down his side. But none of it matters, not when your life is in his hands. 

You lie slumped against his chest, your skin far too pale, and your breaths shallow, rattling with a sound that tears at his heart. Blood streaks your face, staining your lips, a crimson trail leaking from your nose. The fall from Silverwing... gods, he can still hear the roar of dragons and the sickening crunch of bones as you hit the ground. He couldn't—wouldn’t—leave you there, even if it meant betraying everything he'd ever known.

He halts the horse in the shadow of a large oak tree and dismounts with a groan, one arm wrapped protectively around his wounded side. The pain lances through him, nearly buckling his legs, but he grits his teeth and turns to you, his gaze softening despite the turmoil raging within.

"Y/N," he whispers, barely able to speak your name without his voice cracking. Carefully, he lifts you from the saddle, feeling your weight crumple against him, your head lolling against his shoulder. His fingers tremble as he lays you down gently on the mossy ground. You are so still, too still. 

He kneels beside you, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. "Open your eyes. Just... look at me, Y/N." His voice is hoarse, almost pleading. His hands, stained with blood—your blood, his blood—ghost over your cheeks, checking for any signs of life. 

Your eyelids flutter, and a soft moan escapes your lips, causing his heart to lurch with both relief and anguish. "Gwayne?" you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper. Each word seems to sap what little strength you have left.

"I'm here. I won’t leave you, I promise," he assures you, his voice steady though it takes everything in him to keep it that way. He cups your face in his hand, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "You're safe now."

Tears prick his eyes as he sees the pain etched across your features. It’s a stark reminder that you’re not just his princess, the sister of Rhaenyra, daughter of Viserys—you’re the woman who’s owned his heart for years, even if it was a tragic love and often denied.

"You shouldn’t have come back for me," you rasp, your breath hitching in pain. "They’ll kill you…"

"Let them," Gwayne says with a fierce intensity, voice raw with emotion. "If it meant keeping you alive, I’d suffer any fate they decide." He swallows, lowering his head so his forehead rests against yours. "But I couldn’t let you die back there. Not you."

Your eyes fill with tears, but your smile is faint and tinged with regret. "Foolish knight. Always so stubborn."

He chuckles softly, though the sound is strained. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve finally done something right, if it means keeping you with me just a little longer."

You cough weakly, and the sound sends a fresh surge of panic through him. Blood dribbles from the corner of your mouth, and his heart twists at the sight. Desperation claws at him, urging him to do something, anything to ease your suffering, but he knows there’s little he can do out here in the wilderness with no healer, no herbs, nothing but his own two hands.

"I need to make camp," he says gently, brushing his thumb across your cheek one last time before he stands. "We’ll rest here. I’ll tend to you as best I can."

You try to protest, your voice faint. "You’re injured too… I can see the blood. You’ll bleed out if you—"

"Shh." His tone is soft but firm, silencing your concern. "You’re more important to me than any wound I bear." 

He gathers what little strength he has left and begins preparing a makeshift camp, struggling to keep his movements swift despite the burning pain in his side. He lights a small fire, the flickering flames casting shadows over your pale features. Every time he glances at you, his chest tightens with fear that he’ll lose you before the dawn.

Finally, when he’s done, he returns to your side, wrapping his cloak around your trembling form. He cradles you gently in his lap, pressing you close to share what warmth he can offer.

You turn your head weakly to look at him, tears brimming in your eyes. "Gwayne… if I don’t—"

"No," he interrupts, his voice sharp, as if the very idea of you leaving him is unbearable. "You’ll live, Y/N. We’ve both been through too much for it to end here."

There’s a long silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the distant sound of night creatures. You rest your head against his chest, finding comfort in the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the layers of armor and cloth. Despite everything, the world seems a little less terrifying with him holding you like this.

"Thank you," you murmur softly, your fingers curling weakly against his tunic. "For saving me… for staying."

"Always," he whispers, tightening his hold on you, as if afraid you’ll slip away. "For you, I would defy the world."

His words are heavy with truth. He betrayed Cole, risked everything—his loyalty, his honor, his House—because nothing mattered more than you. As he watches your eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion, he swears to himself that he’ll see you through this, no matter the cost.

The night wears on, and as the fire crackles and the stars glimmer overhead, he keeps vigil, his thoughts solely on you. In the stillness of the night, there is only the two of you, bound by fate, by the shared loss and love that lingers unspoken between every touch, every look.

And as sleep finally claims you, Gwayne brushes a tender kiss to your brow, whispering the words he’s held back for far too long.

"I love you, Y/N."

The admission hangs in the air, soft and fragile like a promise yet to be fulfilled. But as the night deepens, with you in his arms and the world beyond fading into the distance, it is a vow he clings to with all his heart.

The first rays of dawn filter through the dense canopy of trees, casting dappled patterns of golden light over your face. The chill of the night still lingers in the air, but warmth gradually spreads as the sun climbs higher. Gwayne Hightower stirs awake, the dull ache in his side reminding him of the wound that still bleeds sluggishly beneath layers of makeshift bandages. But the pain is forgotten the moment he notices your chest rise and fall in steady rhythm. You’re alive. You’re breathing.

For a fleeting moment, all his worries and fears dissolve as he watches you. Your skin is still too pale, your breathing shallow, but your lips are no longer tinged with the blue pallor of death. When your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused at first, he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Gwayne?” Your voice is soft, laced with confusion and pain, but it’s enough to make his heart soar.

“I’m here.” He shifts closer, gently brushing his hand over your forehead, smoothing away a few stray strands of hair. His touch is tender, reassuring, but there’s an edge of desperation to it, as if touching you is the only way he can convince himself you’re still with him. “You’re safe.”

You close your eyes briefly, a tear slipping down your cheek as you whisper, “Silverwing… she’s gone, isn’t she?”

Gwayne’s throat tightens, and he struggles to find the words. He knows how deep the bond is between a rider and their dragon, knows how it must feel like losing a piece of your soul. “She saved you, Y/N. She fought until the very end to protect you.”

A sob escapes your lips, but it’s weak, more of a trembling breath than anything. You turn your face into his chest, seeking solace in his embrace. “She was everything to me. I felt her… I felt her fear when they descended on us. She tried, Gwayne… she tried so hard.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you grieve. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “She was brave, just like you.”

For a long moment, he just holds you, letting the silence settle between you, broken only by the faint sounds of the waking forest. His thoughts, however, race. He knows they can’t stay here. His nephews’ banners surround them from every side, and it’s only a matter of time before scouts or patrols find them. He can’t risk it, not with you in this condition.

“We need to get you to Dragonstone,” he finally says, his voice low but determined. “To Rhaenyra. She’ll know how to keep you safe.”

You nod faintly against his chest, but your eyes are distant, as if lost in some faraway memory. “Dragonstone… where our son is.”

The words come so softly that at first, Gwayne thinks he’s misheard. His heart stutters, the blood draining from his face as he pulls back slightly to look at you. “What did you say?”

You blink slowly, your eyes glazed with exhaustion and pain, but there’s a haunted look in them now. “Our son… I can’t… I can’t lose him too.”

The world tilts beneath Gwayne’s feet. He stares at you, trying to make sense of what you’ve just said. “Y/N… what do you mean, our son?”

You swallow, the effort seeming to drain you. “He’s ours, Gwayne. He… he was born after… after everything. After Daemon took me.”

His chest tightens, shock mingling with something deeper, more painful. He had always known you were taken by Daemon, given to him as part of the political machinations he could never fully understand years ago. It was a decision that had shattered him at the time, but hearing this now—knowing you bore his child in secret—rips at old wounds, laying them bare.

“A son…” The words are a whisper, disbelief and awe warring in his voice. “You kept him hidden from me?”

Tears brim in your eyes again, your voice breaking. “I had no choice. Daemon… he knew the child wasn’t his. He claimed him, raised him as his own, but he’s ours, Gwayne. He’s our flesh and blood.”

Gwayne’s heart pounds in his chest, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within him—anger, sorrow, guilt, and an overwhelming sense of loss. “All this time… I never knew.”

“I wanted to tell you, but it was too dangerous,” you confess, your voice trembling. “I thought… I thought it was better if you didn’t know. To keep you safe from Daemon’s wrath.”

Gwayne’s world narrows to this moment, to the truth of a child he never knew he had, one who’s been raised by a man who has always been his rival in more ways than one. The thought of Daemon laying claim to something so precious to him—it ignites a rage deep in his chest, but it’s tempered by the sheer anguish on your face.

He tightens his grip on you, pulling you into him as if holding you closer will somehow mend the broken pieces of the life you might have had together. “We’ll get him back,” he vows, voice low and fierce. “You and I—we’ll go to Dragonstone. To your sister. To our son. I won’t let Daemon keep what’s ours.” 

The thought makes his blood run cold, but for you, he’d face even that man.

You look up at him, your gaze searching his, and for a moment, you’re not the princess caught in the bloody web of war and dragons—you’re just a woman looking at the man you love, hoping against hope that he can keep the promise he’s just made. “I’ve missed him so much,” you whisper. “And I’ve missed you.”

Gwayne’s breath hitches, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, he allows himself to hold you as if you’re the only thing that matters. “I’m here now,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there. “And I’m not going anywhere without you. We’ll get through this.”

The resolve in his words steadies the both of you. There’s a long road ahead, fraught with dangers and uncertainties, but he knows with unwavering certainty that he won’t let anything tear you away from him again—not the war, not his family’s betrayal, and not even Daemon’s machinations.

You’ve lost so much—your dragon, your freedom, your soul—but in this moment, you find a glimmer of hope in the man who’s risked everything for you. And as the morning sun rises, casting light on the uncertain path ahead, you cling to that hope, knowing that Gwayne will do whatever it takes to bring you home—to your sister, to your son, and to the life you both deserve.

Together, you’ll reclaim what’s been taken. And together, you’ll face whatever comes next.

The rhythmic pounding of hooves on uneven ground fills the tense silence between you and Gwayne as he guides the horse deeper into the wilderness. Morning light filters through the trees in shifting patterns, but it does little to ease the weight pressing on Gwayne’s chest. His mind churns, cycling through the revelation you just laid bare—a son. His son. Every heartbeat seems to echo with the implications, each thump a reminder of the child who was taken from him, raised by a man Gwayne both loathes and fears.

He clenches the reins tighter, trying to steady his thoughts as they race uncontrollably. A son. His thoughts circle back to it, gnawing at him like an itch he can’t scratch. What is the boy like? What does he look like? The questions burn in his throat, but the uncertainty of what comes next gnaws at him even more. Daemon, he thinks bitterly, the name sour on his tongue. The prince’s shadow looms over everything now, twisting this newfound truth into something almost unbearable.

But he can’t afford to let his emotions take control. Not now. You’re still weak, clinging to consciousness by a thread. The ride is perilous, the terrain rough, and every jolt of the horse draws a faint whimper from your lips. Each sound slices through him like a blade, a reminder that you’re slipping further away with every mile. His instinct is to press forward, to ride hard and fast to the nearest settlement that might offer help, but every harsh movement risks worsening your condition.

He takes a deep breath and glances down at you, leaning back against his chest, your eyes half-lidded in a haze of pain. "Y/N," he calls gently, hoping to draw you back to him, even if only for a few moments. "Stay with me. I need you to stay with me."

You stir slightly, your eyelids fluttering as you try to focus. Your breaths are labored, each one a struggle, but the sound of his voice seems to anchor you in the present.

"I’m here," you whisper, though your voice is faint and distant, almost as if you’re speaking from another world. "Just… so tired."

Gwayne swallows the lump in his throat, trying to push through the fear gnawing at him. He needs answers, needs to understand what you’ve been through, what he’s been through, if he’s going to piece together a plan that might save you both. "You spoke of our son… before," he says carefully, his voice low, as if afraid to disturb the fragile balance of reality. "Tell me about him, Y/N. I need to know."

Your gaze drifts upward, unfocused, as if you’re looking at something beyond his reach. A faint smile tugs at your lips, though it’s tinged with sadness. "He’s beautiful," you murmur, voice trembling with emotion. "He has your eyes… that same spark. But he’s stubborn, too. So stubborn, just like his father."

Gwayne’s heart clenches at the thought. He can almost see it—an image of a child with your grace and his determination, laughing with that carefree joy only children possess. But there’s a shadow over the image, a darkness that steals the warmth from it.

"He doesn’t know who I am, does he?" Gwayne asks, though he already suspects the answer.

You shake your head weakly, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He thinks… he thinks Daemon is his father. That’s all he’s known." Your voice wavers, cracking under the weight of the truth. "It was the only way to keep him safe. The only way to protect him while the world tore itself apart."

Gwayne’s jaw tightens, a surge of anger rushing through him, not at you but at the situation, at the cruelty of a world that forced such a choice upon you. "Daemon," he says bitterly, the name dripping with resentment. "He took everything from me. He even took him—our son—and you."

You turn your head slightly, struggling to focus on him, your expression full of regret. "He did it to protect him, Gwayne. As much as I hate it, I can’t deny that. In a world like this, with war tearing us all apart, who else could raise him? Who else could keep him alive?"

Gwayne’s throat tightens, the fury and sorrow tangling together in a knot that’s hard to unravel. He wants to argue, to curse Daemon’s name, but deep down, a small part of him knows you’re right. That’s what stings the most. Daemon was the one with power, the one who could shield the child from the dangers that lurked on all sides, even if it meant poisoning the boy’s mind against the truth of who he really is.

But he’s not ready to accept it. Not yet. Not when there’s still a chance to change things, to reclaim what’s his.

"I’ll find a way," he vows, more to himself than to you. "I’ll get him back, Y/N. I’ll make sure he knows who his true father is."

You smile weakly, though your eyes are growing heavier, the strain of staying conscious taking its toll. "You always were driven, my love," you murmur, voice fading. "Just… don’t lose yourself in anger. Our son deserves better than that."

Before he can respond, your eyes close again, and your body goes limp against him. Panic seizes him for a moment, but he quickly checks your pulse, relieved to feel the faint but steady beat beneath your skin. You’re slipping back into delirium, but you’re still alive. That’s all that matters now.

He looks ahead, squinting at the road as he spots the faint outlines of a small village in the distance—a neutral settlement, one of the few places where banners don’t fly for either side. It’s a place to rest, to gather supplies, and perhaps even to find someone who can tend to your wounds. But it’s not without risk. Enemies could be lurking anywhere, and he knows he can’t let his guard down.

As he rides toward the village, Gwayne’s thoughts swirl with plans and possibilities. He needs to get you to Dragonstone, needs to confront the truths that have been hidden for so long. But more than that, he needs to find a way to reunite with the son he never knew, the son who now lies in Daemon’s grasp.

And as the horse plods steadily forward, the determination in his heart hardens into something unbreakable. He will see this through, no matter what it costs. Because even in the face of betrayal, war, and loss, there’s something worth fighting for—a future that’s still within reach.

And he won’t let anyone—not even Daemon—take that from him.

[foreverinadais]

friends: s.g

summary: i cannot stop thinking about friends to lovers with steven. a night drinking wine with steven turns into more than you either of you ever expected.

warnings: alcohol consumption, references to smut, language, fluff overload with some clichés :)

word count: 2k

“All I’m saying is that it would be pretty easy to frame her for something. Doesn’t have to be something huge, maybe drugs or like, stealing cars or something? It would solve all your problems.”

“As great as that would be, like really great, I can’t do that to anyone, not even my knob of a boss.”

“You sure? Not even a little tempted?”

“As hard as it is to refuse such an offer… ‘m sure. Besides, it wouldn’t solve all my problems, now, would it?” Your face dropped slightly, despite Steven’s light tone, as brushed his shoulder with your hand comfortingly.

“I’m sorry. Still having trouble sleeping?” He hummed in reply, taking a long sip of wine, already on the second glass. The restaurant was fairly busy, the sounds of plates clanking and couples bickering moulding into the air. But an outing was much needed after the stressful week Steven had. He’d called you in a flush, stumbling over his words until you got the gist of what he so desperately needed- a night out with his best friend.

“Starting to think there’s somethin’ wrong with me.”

“You think? “You joked, but a sympathetic smile was placed on your lips, worry evident in your tone.

“Cheeky.” Steven chuckled, but you couldn’t ignore the tired look behind his eyes, as he began dabbing the side of his lips with a cloth to get rid of any excess food. You wondered if he needed to do the action quite so long.

“Hey, I’m sure its just a… phase. There’s nothing wrong with you, Steven, apart from your horrible taste in food.” You grimaced at the olives on his plate to which he put one on his fork to wave tauntingly in front of you.

“Want some? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Meanie.”

“Awfully sorry, how inconsiderate of me. please accept my sincerest of apologies.” He put on his poshest accent, making you curl over in laughter.

“Oh why Mr Grant, how could I possibly refuse such chivalry?” You laughed again, head beginning to feel lighter as the wine combined with the serotonin in your system.

You always laughed with Steven. There was something about him, a charm, a wit, that made it impossible to be sad. You had been drawn to him the moment you laid your eyes on him. And you had soon formed a friendship with the man.

“Right, I need another glass.” You got out as the laughter subsided. Steven nodded, quickly finishing his, making your eyebrow raise. “Might want to slow down, Grant, don’t wanna have to carry you back again.”

“That was one time. Besides, you might want to speed up, slow pokes. You’re behind.”

“You’re on.”

By the time the bottle was finished, the two of you were nicely tipsy. Whilst your words were in tact and head on tight, you felt fuzzy, all worries dissipated from your body. “Where’s the other? ‘m thirsty,” You said, holding up the empty bottle sadly.

“Certainly. ‘M sure the waiter will be around any minute now.” As soon as Steven had said it, a man came over, notebook in hand as he smiled.

“Another bottle for the lovely couple.” You looked at each other, silent for a moment before you burst out laughing.

“S-Sorry, we’re not a couple.” You got out behind giggles, gathering yourself as you added, “Thank you.”

“Not a couple, eh? So… you’re single?” It caught you off guard as you coughed slightly, hesitant on your reply.

“Well, yeah, I guess. I am.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The waiter offered a smile, eyes lingering before he left.

“Think he was flirting with you.” You couldn’t help but scoff, hiding your embarrassment by taking a long sip of your fresh drink.

“No way.”

“He’s not your type?” You shrugged, avoiding Steven’s curious gaze. “What is your type?”

You chuckled, shaking your head slightly. “God, Steven, you’re so nosy.”

“Nuh uh, ‘m just wondering.” His tone was playful as he finally caught your eyes. “C’mon. Spill the beans. Share your secrets, safe with me, eh?” There was something about the man that was so utterly convincing that you found you needed little encouragement to do as he asked.

“Someone who’ll make me laugh.”

“Oh yeah? Knock knock.” You rolled your eyes, feeling the smile tug at your lips as Steven joked.

“Someone who I’m comfortable with. Like, I’ll be myself around, completely myself.”

“Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less. Go on, what else?” He pressed for you to continue, and you did.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that encouraged you too say, “Someone who… knows what their doing. You know, in the bedroom.” Steven froze slightly, throat bobbing as he swallowed. You didn’t talk about sex with each other, both deciding it would be easier to keep well within the friend boundary without associating the other with it at all.

“The bedroom?”

“Yeah. Well, you know, someone who isn’t afraid to take… control.” The word lingered in the air, a bubble of images quickly finding it’s way into Steven’s brain. But no sooner than it had formed, he popped it, physically shaking the thoughts of you, his friend, in that way.

“Is that all your looking for? Bit of a short list, if you ask me. Standards are pretty low. No wonder you always date such knobheads.” You gasped in mock surprise, hitting his arm playfully over the table- and just like that, the newfound tension had eased.

“Rude! But maybe you’re right. I won’t settle ever again.” He nodded, agreeing, before pouring more liquid into his glass. “I’ll take some of that, Grant.”

---

Your head was swimming, mushy with the aftermath of the wine. Steven was just as bad, muttering mindlessly to himself about how he ‘should get a promotion’ and ‘vegans have plenty to eat at steakhouses’. It was a struggle to walk back to his flat, clutching onto his arm for support as you both navigated across the uneven pavements of London.

You all but stumbled through the door, hysterical laughter following at the fact Steven had been using the wrong key to unlock the door for five minutes before realising. “Bloody locks.” He let out as the laughter subsided, small gasps leaving your mouth as dramatically wiped the tears from under your eyes.

“Why is there… so many of them?”

“Gotta be safe, duh. Silly.” You solidified his point by poking your tongue out.

“Is that what this is for too?” You had made your way over to his bed, holding up one of the ankle restraints with a suggestive smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You chuckled again, leaving the cuffs to explore his desk. 

“Messy,” You teased, picking up a notebook and flicking through the first few pages.

“Nosy,” he retorted back, though his tone matched yours- light, words slurred, a gleeful lift to your sentences. You began looking at the books on his shelves, as well as the piles scattered on the floor. Whilst it wasn’t for everyone, you loved the layout of his stuff, an organised chaos that felt much like home.

As you were rounding the corner to the kitchen, you nearly tripped, gasping as you fell forward. But Steven was quicker, bounding forward to catch you before you went completely over. “Careful there, you alright?” The genuine worry in his voice made your heart flutter, but you covered it with a giggle.

“ ‘m good, Steven, don’t worry.”

“Let’s sit down for a bit, yeah?” He chuckled, still very much feeling the effects of the wine himself.

“Okay, whatever you want.” The walk to the sofa was stumbly, amusing to the two of you before you collapsed into the cushions. A mutual sigh of content filled the air as you automatically began playing with the sleeve of his jacket.

“I love your flat.” You wondered aloud, resting your head back.

“Oh yeah? Well you’re welcome anytime, you know that, darlin’.” Oh. The word sparked something in you, making your gaze falter. You didn’t know Steven could sound like that.

“Shouldn’t have said that, Grant. I’ll stay forever. Like a vampire.”

“A vampire?” He laughed; the sound dreamlike.

“Yeah, you know, 'cause they need to be invited in to stay, and you just invited me anytime sooo.”

“Oh yeah? And what you gonna do as a vampire?”

“Obviously I’m going to come in and suck you.” Both parties froze, Steven’s face burning bright red. You quickly realised what you’d said, adding, “Your blood! Suck your blood. Like a… vampire.” He managed to chuckle, clearing his throat slightly as you dropped his sleeve.

A slightly uncomfortable silence ensued, though you weren’t sure if it was due to your comment or the newfound tension in the room. You tried to find words to break the awkwardness but found nothing to say.

“Would you rather have toes for fingers or fingers for toes?” The sudden question from Steven broke you from your thoughts as you pondered the question for a moment.

“Easy. Fingers for toes. Then I’d be able to climb really well and do better cleaning.”

“Huh. I agree. But it would be a bit strange to walk around on your hands all day, right? Might hurt more.”

“I could do it.”

“I’m sure you could. Would you rather… spend the rest if your life being itchy or being tickled?”

“What kinda question is that?” You laughed but Steven just shrugged.

“The most important one of your life.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his goofiness.

“Fine… itchy. I hate being tickled.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. A devious look rose in Steven’s eyes. “Steven if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I swear I will leave so fucking fast-” You were cut off by your own shriek as his hands found your sides, tickling as he did so.

You moved up the sofa to escape his tickles, only to find him going with you. “Please I can’t, hurts.” You got out through laughs, and he finally let up, shaking his head.

“Couldn’t help it.” He defended, words teasing. You smiled, gaze lingering on him. It was then you realised just how close you had gotten to him. So close, you realised, his breath was tickling your nose. You swallowed; mouth suddenly dry as his eyes searched your face.

You wanted to kiss him.

Wanted to move closer by just an inch and touch his lips with your own. You wanted to feel his curls in your hands, to feel his breath everywhere. But you were friends. Just friends. Because he was Steven, the one you gossiped with, the man you told about your failed first dates, someone you laughed with.

And suddenly you were overwhelmed, coughing slightly to signal you wanted to get up. “I should probably get going.” You said, voice slightly shaky as Steven moved to the side.

“Oh! Right, yeah, of course, whatever, yeah, you want.” You nodded, inhaling deeply before standing, legs feeling like jelly.

“I had fun though.” You added, avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah? I did too, it was great.” A silence lingered as you rocked on your feet. Steven was looking at the books on his shelves, re-reading the titles of every one to avoid you. It was beginning to get too much to keep looking at your face, your eyes, your lips, without the incredible urge to kiss them.

“So-”

“Anyway-” The two of you chuckled uncomfortably at the mishap.

“Go ahead.” You offered.

“No no, please, be my guest.”

“It’s fine-”

“I insist.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes, suddenly finding the humour in the situation.

“What are we doing? I mean, this isn’t us, we can always talk to each other.” Steven chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, nodding as he did.

“Bit strange, innit?”

“Must be the wine.” Although you weren’t convinced.

“Must be.” And neither was he.

“So, I’m gonna go.”

“Right. You be safe, now.”

“I’ll try.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…” You hardly looked as you left, door shutting behind you. Instantly, you released a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, eyes shutting briefly to regain some control. The wine felt distant now, but you were still tipsy, head swimming with thoughts you struggled to push down, feelings that only made themselves heard when you couldn’t hide from them.

Did you like him?

He was Steven. Sweet Steven Grant who always made you laugh. You felt completely, unadulteratedly comfortable around him. He was your rock, the one who made you smile, who made you heart skip, who made your dark days brighter, in fact every day brighter-

And there it was. Perhaps it was the wine that made these truths impossible to avoid, that finally made the words arise in your brain, unavoidable; you liked Steven Grant.

And then you were knocking. Knuckles rapping the door with a newfound desperation. Steven answered so fast you wondered if he’d been waiting, too. Just stood on either side of the wood. Maybe he’d been wondering, too.

He looked surprised to see you again, voicing it by saying, “Thought you’d left.”

“Thought I’d take you up on your offer. You know, invite myself back. Like a-”

His lips met yours in a frenzied, desperate kiss, one hand resting on your waist as the other went to the back of your head. It was as if you were something he’d been deprived of, something he desperately needed just to survive. But it was over a mere minute after it had begun as he suddenly stepped back.

“Sorry, couldn’t wait any longer, is this okay? Oh fuck, have I ruined this?” But he didn’t have time to worry anymore, as now it was your turn to kiss him. He settled instantly, lips moving in a slow, passionate kiss. It was dizzying. More so than any alcohol you’d ever consumed. It was the type of feeling you’d searched for your entire being, and now, it was here, in the shape of your friend, the love of your life.

You both pulled away, only because of the need for air. “Do you want to stay over? Not in a, you know, weird way. We can take it slow; you know? Find out what this is. Plus, we’ve been drinking, and I don’t want to rush this cause I’ve waited so long and I just-”

“Steven.” You interrupted, taking both of his hands in yours. “It’s okay. You're worth the wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now… you want to watch a movie?”

“I’ll put a pizza in. No olives.”

“Perfect.”

“Just like you.”

“When did we get so cheesy?”

“Must be the wine.”

[noxtivagus]

ffxvi im crying!!!!

[pimosworld]

Care to join?

Pairing- Layla el Faouly x f!reader x Steven Grant x Marc Spector x Jake Lockley

This is my submission for @flightlessangelwings pride month celebration. I’m new to writing but this month is very special to me so I put my nerves aside and came up with this self indulgent fic.

Summary-Steven asks you about your feelings for Layla after she shows interest in you. Will this change your relationship?

Dialogue prompt- “Can I kiss you?”

CW-Explicit 18+MDNI, mentions of DID,eventual poly relationship,FF dynamics, talks about sexuality, kissing,cursing,light angst,fluff,thigh riding, smut,threesome MFF,oral sex female receiving, fingering, unprotected piv,piv cream pie

WC-3.8k

A/N- Layla is married to Marc and has been previously in an established relationship with the system. Reader is in an established relationship with Steven.Reader is not described or race coded. I will often write that the system can carry/pick up the reader and I am a plus size person who can not be carried by my partner but I like to believe that since they are superheroes they have superhuman strength.

Not beta read

***

    Wednesday 

  You’re lying under Steven, your legs  wrapped around his waist while you both try to catch your breath. You’re rubbing slow lines up and down his back as his hot breath blows on your neck. 

  “Love...that was… incredible.” He raises on his elbows to peer down at you with his sweat tousled curls on his forehead. You can’t help but fall in love with him every time you look into those deep brown eyes. He’s grown soft inside you but he refuses to move. He drops his head down onto your shoulder and lets out a deep sigh.  

  “Just give me a minute please.” You know he can be needy but the annoyance in his tone is concerning.

  “You know I never rush you.” You say as you continue to trace lines up and down his back.

  “God no! no! I wasn’t talking to you love.” 

  “Oh...” It was still weird knowing Marc was present sometimes. You haven't been intimate with him obviously not wanting to cross a line with Layla. You were with Steven and she was with Marc. You’ve been on a few dates with Jake but his shyness prevented him from fronting too often. 

  “I…well we have been meaning to talk to you about something.” You can sense his more than normal nervous behavior. “It’s about Layla.” You have been dreading this moment for months, the conversation you knew would come when she grew tired of sharing. She married Marc and later became established with Steven and Jake but according to Steven he’s not been with her since you met on your first day at the museum.

  Surprisingly you took to his confession of having D.I.D very well. It took him several more weeks to reveal they are moon knight to which you also took in stride. It was the follow up conversation about the fact that he was technically married that you didn’t take lightly. It took you a week of reflection and a long conversation with Layla to convince you to give him another chance. No one has ever treated you like Steven and you didn’t want to give that up. 

  Steven often stayed at your place to give Layla her space, you knew she missed him but she always respected your relationship. When they were off doing khonshus bidding you would often have a girls night with Layla. Recently you weren’t sure how to grapple with the feelings you’ve been having towards her. You haven’t felt this way about a woman in a long time. There was no need to further complicate your already intricate relationship. 

  “Um…Steven, if I need to talk to Marc I would prefer we get cleaned up and put some clothes on.”

  “Sorry love I didn’t mean to worry you, he’s not here anymore.” You relax a little but can’t help but worry about the impending conversation. He climbs off you and you shudder at the sudden change in temperature, no longer having his body as a barrier to the cool air in your flat. 

  “Let me run us a bath and we can talk while we get cleaned up.” The prospect of a relaxing bubble bath with your boyfriend would normally have you on cloud nine, but you’d rather not have such an uncomfortable conversation in such an intimate setting. 

  “Steven, if you’re going to break up with me I’d rather you do it now,I can just take a shower when you leave.” Your legs are curled underneath you and all you can do is stare at the rumpled sheets desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. 

  “What!” Steven is standing in the doorway of the bathroom wide eyed and horrified at your assumption. 

  I told you not to bring it up after sex, she’s too vulnerable right now.

  “Will you buzz off Marc!” Steven strides towards you and is back on the bed in moments. He bunches you up with the sheets and pulls you into his lap sideways. “ I’m not breaking up with you

Love,  I just have something I need to talk to you about and I am a bit nervous.” You look up at him with tears brimming your eyelids and you can all but see his heartbreak. 

  He cradles your head and kisses you slowly as if it’s your first time. “This is not at all how I wanted this conversation to go.” He stands from the bed with you still in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. He gently sets you down on the toilet as he begins to draw a bath. You can’t help but admire his arms and his broad back as he leans over to test the temperature of the water. He places your favorite lavender bath bomb and chamomile bubble bath in before unraveling you from the sheets and helping you into the bath. You’re enveloped in that warm fuzzy feeling as he finds his place behind you pulling your back into his chest. 

  “I’m just gonna start and I don’t want you to say anything until I let you know I’m done.” You nod your head and you’re thankful you’re not facing him as the tears begin to well again. 

  “Layla has…really enjoyed your company lately when we’re out.” He pauses and tightens his grip around your waist. “She said it helps her not worry about us so much.”

  “I enjoy her company to Steven.” You know he told you not to speak yet but you figured he needed a moment to gather his thoughts. 

  “She’s actually grown quite fond of you and thought that you might feel the same about her.”

  A long silence passes between you and all you can hear are the ragged breaths of Steven and the crackling of the bubbles. You don’t think Stevens even realized that he hasn’t said he’s done speaking and is waiting for you to respond. 

  “Of course if you don’t feel the same then we don’t need to mention it again, I’m sorry I even brought it up. It's just that Marc pressed on about it…and actually he’s quite fond of you too and well that’s besides the point…I don’t even know what I’m saying any…”

  You turn in the bath and stop his rambling with a kiss to his lips as you cradle his face in both hands.

You rise in the water so you can settle yourself in his lap. You lean in to kiss him again and he parts his lips to let your tongue slide in. This slow languid movements leave you both breathless as you pull away for air and can’t help but giggle at his face covered in bubbles.

  “I thought Layla had grown sick of this situation and wanted you to end things with me.” He begins to say something but you place a finger on his lips, prompting him to wait just as you had. 

  “I am still getting to know Marc and Jake but obviously I can’t help but be attracted to someone who looks like my boyfriend.” You know Steven would accept all parts of you but it still made you nervous to open up to him. 

  “Steven…I’ve been with women before you, but I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I’ve grown to like Layla a lot and I wasn’t sure how to come to terms with my feelings.” Steven releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

  “That’s wonderful love…Layla was quite nervous that you wouldn’t feel the same and she didn’t want to pressure you.” Steven is beaming up at you as if you’ve presented him a million dollar grant to research Egyptian mythology. “You know I love and accept you for who you are.” 

  You’re suddenly feeling exposed as the bubbles dissipate and your mind starts wandering. What does this mean? What does she want? He said something about Marc. Would Jake be involved? Would Steven be upset?

  He can see you spiraling before his eyes. “Talk to me love.” He starts rubbing soothing circles on your arms.

  “Where do we go from here?” You don’t even recognize your voice as you look anywhere but his eyes. He grabs your chin with his forefinger and thumb and pulls you into a chaste kiss.

  “Whatever you want to do we will do…no

pressure.We all want you and what’s best for you, as long as you’re safe and happy that’s all we care about.” You wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug, feeling this most content you have in years. 

  Nice job hermaño, I knew you could do it.

  ***

Friday 

  You’ve never been this nervous before to just have dinner with Layla. This was something you did every week while the boys were out but this time felt different. You’ve torn your room apart looking for the right thing to wear, finally opting for a simple blue babydoll dress with a flowy skirt. You wear your hair in its natural state and put on some light makeup to complete the look. 

  It’s just dinner, relax

  You’re standing in front of the door of their shared flat trying to calm your nerves as you smooth down the front on your skirt. You can already smell the wonderful aroma wafting under the door as you begin to knock. Layla opens the door and pulls you into a hug but you’re apprehensive to hug her back act normal.

  “Hey hon, come on in, I'm just finishing up the pizza.” You enter the flat and set the bottle of red wine you brought on the counter and take in the sight of delicious homemade pizza. 

  “I’m making Marc’s favorite for you, he insisted.” She looks up from placing the toppings to wink at you. Why did he insist? 

  “Oh…everything smells wonderful.” You’re standing nervously at the kitchen island fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “I brought some wine,would you like me to pour you a glass?” 

  “I’d love some, you know where the glasses are.” She points absentmindedly to the cabinet behind her while she finishes topping the pizza. You pour two glasses for the both of you and once she places the pizza in the oven all attention is on you. 

  “How has work been? Steven said you’ve had to put in some late night shifts.” You’re staring at her wine stained lips and the curls that frame her face. How does  she always look so effortlessly beautiful? She has an inquisitive look on her face and you realize you haven’t answered her. 

  “Umm…it’s been fine, I’m sure you know how much of a pain Donna can be.” You're focused on the wine in your glass instead of her piercing gaze. 

  “Hey…I can tell you’re nervous and I know Steven talked to you. Nothing has to change. I just wanted you to know how I felt.” It makes her heart swell noticing  you’ve put more effort into your appearance than you normally do for your weekly dinner.

  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous…I care about you a lot and I want to do this right.” She takes your hand in hers and you finally look up and meet her eyes. Neither of you say anything, whatever is happening between you can go unspoken for now. 

  You both finally relax into a comfortable calm as you eat Pizza and finish the bottle of wine. As the night progresses it feels more and more like how things are supposed to be. Conversation flows freely as you both relax on the couch gossiping about work or sharing your thoughts about the boys.

  “I know they look different but Marc and Steven  both get that furrowed brow when they’re focused.” She shifts on the couch to face you mimicking that stern look they get. You burst into a fit of laughter at the accuracy. 

  “Okay but have you seen Jake's serious face?” You squint your eyes and  muster up the best version of Jake that you can manage. She leans in close,her lips just a breath away. 

  “That face is much more adorable than Jake's.” Suddenly you're feeling hot,neither of you pulling away from your close proximity. The tension that’s been building for months is threatening to burst as you wait for her next move. 

  “Can I kiss you?” She’s practically touching your lips when she asks and you wish she would just do it but you know it’s in her nature to wait for you. 

  “Yes please.” In a moment her lips are on yours as her hands caress your neck and trail down your jaw. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, feverish in the way her lips slot against yours. She pulls away and you chase her lips with your eyes closed and lips parted trying to catch your breath. 

  She brushes her thumb along your bottom lip and looks at you as though you hold the world in your eyes. “Your lips are so soft.”

  “Do it again please.” The desperation in your voice is unfamiliar but she doesn’t hesitate to oblige your request as her lips crash into yours, you part your lips to allow her tongue to slide in as you moan into her mouth. She pulls you slightly into her lap as you straddle her thigh. Your lips move in tandem as she grabs your waist. You can feel your panties soaked as she grinds your clit over her jeans. 

  “Sweetheart…you gonna come like this, I’ve barely touched you?” You’re a panting mess as your climax approaches and she doesn’t relent as she trails kisses down your neck,leaving love bites along the way. She moves one hand from your waist and slowly starts trailing your inner thigh. Her fingers dance along the hem of your underwear almost reaching where you need it the most. 

  The floorboard creaks and you both halt your movements. You look up from the couch and see Mr. Knight standing near the window, the moon still illuminating him in his stark white suit. He’s masked and you can’t see the expression on his face but his chest is heaving and you can’t help but notice the growing bulge in the front of his pants. 

  You slide off Layla suddenly embarrassed at the state she had you in. She grabs your hand before you can stand and sends you a reassuring squeeze. 

  “Steven…care to join?” She says in this sweet honey tone. Yet he doesn’t falter, as if he’s frozen to the spot. 

  Steven move your goddamn feet or I’m taking over the body.

  Snapped from his trance Steven begins to walk towards the couch. He takes a seat beside you so that you're situated in between them. He’s yet to reveal his face but his demeanor is definitely your Steven as he begins rubbing soothing circles on your thighs. The combined touch of their hands is all too real and this is territory you’ve never covered before. 

  “Are you okay with this Love?” Steven is always the observer making sure that this is truly what you want. You slowly nod your head. 

  “I need you to use your words honey.” You turn your head to Layla and the pet name she’s used many times before holds more weight in this moment. 

  “Yes this is okay…as long as Steven is…” 

  “Yes I’m great love this is perfectly alright.”He cuts you off before you can finish. You can’t help but giggle at his sudden burst of enthusiasm. 

  “Steven…why don’t you give her a kiss to calm her nerves.” Steven grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently tilts your face to him. He withdraws his mask and you can see his pupils blown wide. He kisses you softly as though it’s just the two of you in the room. Two sets of hands are on you as Layla leans against your back leaving hot kisses along your neck. 

  A soft hand trails up your inner thigh as another cups your breast over your dress. You kiss and bite at Stevens neck as you palm his erection through his pants. He whimpers in your ear as he bucks his hips into your hand. A soft finger pulls your panties to the side and rubs along your slick folds. You drop your head to Stevens shoulder gripping his arms for purchase. She dips two fingers dip into your entrance and you whine into his neck as you begin to rock your hips. 

  “You’re doing so good for us sweetie.” Layla coos in your ear. She withdraws her fingers from you and you whine at the loss. She holds her fingers up to Stevens lips and taps on them lightly, he takes both fingers in his mouth never breaking eye contact as rolls his tongue around coming off with a loud pop.

  “Tastes so good love…why don’t you let her have a taste hmm.” Your brain is short circuiting at the sight. “Yes.” It’s all you can manage with your voice barely above a whisper. 

  “I think the bed would be better for that…don’t you think?” She says as she takes your hand to stand. Your body is no longer in your control, you can’t feel your legs beneath you but you know you’re moving towards the bedroom. Layla at your front and Steven close behind. 

  Steven retracts his suit and begins to undress when you enter the room. Leaving him only in his boxers, you can see the strain of his cock against the fabric where a wet spot has formed. 

  “I think you two are a bit overdressed.” He stands at your back pulling your straps down your shoulders letting your dress fall to the floor revealing your green matching lace set. He moves behind Layla pulling her shirt over her head as you work on the button of her jeans. He slides down her pants and kisses her shoulder when he stands. 

  This is so not fair

  Callate pendejo 

  Steven does his best to block out the sounds of his head mates but doesn’t shut them off completely. He wants them to see this. 

  “Lay down against the pillows Steven.” He lays down on the bed with his legs spread wide and his hands at his side. She directs you to lay against him facing her while she sits between your legs. You're shaking from the anticipation and he begins rubbing soothing lines up and down your arms giving you goosebumps. She grabs the hem of your underwear and gently lifts your hips to slide them down. 

  “Is she always this wet for you?” She smirks at him as she drops her head down between your legs, licking a stripe through your slit. You arch your back at the sensation and Steven moans as you press further into his hard cock. He pulls your knees back to hold your legs open as she dips her tongue into your slick heat. Your whimpers and moans of her name are muffled as Steven swallows them with his mouth on yours. 

  “She does taste good.” She rocks back on her heels and pulls you up into a kiss. You can taste yourself on her lips as she dips her tongue into your mouth. You start to slide your hand beneath the band of her panties but she stops you. 

  “Tonight is about you sweetheart.” She’s definitely in control and you decide not to push. “Take off your boxers.” Steven practically rips them trying to get them off as his cock springs free slapping against his abdomen. You don’t think you’ve ever seen it so big, the angry red tip leaking precum all over his stomach. 

  She coaxes you back to lean against him and grabs the base of his cock causing him to gasp. She drags the tip along your dripping folds and Steven lifts you slightly as he guides you down onto him. 

  “Oh fuck…Steven it’s too much.” He’s not even all the way in and from this angle he’s hitting something devastating inside you. “Shhh love you can take it just relax.” Your cunt flutters around his thick cock causing a guttural moan from him. She straddles you both and you sink to the hilt. She places her hands on Stevens chest as she rides you grinding her hips into yours. Your mind has gone numb as she fucks you into Steven, each roll of her hips catches on your clit and slides you up and down his length. 

  “M’so close.” Steven chokes out from behind you as his grip tightens on your hips and his pelvis bucks slightly. She reaches between your bodies and begins rubbing tight circles on your clit as she leans in close and kisses Steven. He picks up his pace slamming you down on his cock over and over as he arches his back lifting the both of you. 

  “Right. There. Please . Don’t. Stop.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust and you come undone; she grabs your face, pulling you into an awkward three way kiss. Every nerve in your body is alight as she doesn’t let up on your clit, you don’t know if this is the same orgasm or a second that has tears streaming down your face. You clench down on him as he comes with a loud groan shooting hot ropes of cum into your core. 

  “You did so good, sweetheart.” She kisses you deep as you try to control your cries and aftershocks. 

  As you come down from your high you realize you’ve been moved. You’re laying on your side facing Steven as Layla plants small kisses on the small of your back. Steven places a soft kiss to your sweat soaked forehead and rolls out of bed. 

  “I’ll be right back love.” He retreats to the bathroom as you hear the water running. 

  You turn to face Layla and she can see the worry on your face. “What’s wrong hon? Was this too much?” 

  “No it’s not that it’s just…you didn’t get very much attention and I feel bad.”  She grabs your neck and pulls you into a soft kiss. 

  “There’s always next time.”

  Next time 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

Happy pride 🏳️‍🌈

[xenonmoon]

Stripping away traits from Marc also makes him more flat as a character. It's doing a disservice to two alters for the price of one

Reminder to Moon Knight fans (ESPECIALLY THE MCU FANS) that Marc's anger and violent tendencies are an important, vital part of his character. It is not a part of Jake's character for god's sake. Don't forget he's literally a marine and mercenary.

[scarlet--wiccan]

With Matt and Wanda teaming up this week and Wanda making an appearance in Iron Man in Jan, what are some unusual team ups you’d like to see Wanda be a part of?

First of all, I remember when Spencer Ackerman went on Cerebro and compared Wanda to Stephen Miller. I am NOT happy that he's writing her in Iron Man, at all.

Anyway, I talk about this a lot, but I really want Wanda to be weird frenemies with Amora. That's my big one. They have similar, but very different, baggage about motherhood, and Amora is still grieving the loss of her son. I really think Wanda could be an unexpected ally for her. I'd love to see a story where Amora goes to great lengths to get Iric back and Wanda's there to caution her, based on her own experiences attempting to resurrect Billy and Tommy.

Beyond that-- I'd like to see her team up Moon Knight, or any of the werewolf or vampire characters. There's a lot of connective tissue with her mythology, and in general, I just want to see more of her in that spooky world. On the other side of the spectrum, I've been loving the current run of Fantastic Four and I think it's fun whenever they have to deal with magic. Between Agatha, the Salem Seven, and Victor, the FF have a lot of overlap with Wanda and you could come up with a lot of reasons for them to work together.