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imasimpforstevengrant · 1 year

Text

THRICE

Summary: Layla needs Marc to tell her the truth about the months he went missing. Steven convinces Marc that this will heal their relationship but the ghosts of unworthiness and guilt still haunt his mind.

Warnings: (past) trauma, (past) abusive parenting/child abuse, death, mentions of death, loss, mental illness, violent behaviour, sensitive topics, angst and comfort, swearing, protectiveness, DID, fluff, sexual tension, sexual themes, unsafe sex, absolute, self indulgent smut with feelings.

WC: 8.929

Note¹: I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE. I hope this makes up for the time I didn't post anything. Some of the lines and scenes, much like in previous and future chapters, are taken from:

• Moon Knight vol 1, issues #1, #3, #5, #7, #10, #35

Note²: I had to rewrite, correct and post this three times, since I didn't like the first draft. I read a theory that states Layla didn't know Steven because she was the only person who made Marc happy, so I wrote this to explore the idea. I love the idea of Layla knowing (and eventually falling in love with) Steven, as a healthy way to love Marc in his wholeness.

Note³: This chapter is absolute self indulgent, filth... but I couldn't help it. Marc/Steven deserve so much after all they went through. I hope you enjoy this just as I did writing it. Sorry for any typos. English is not my native language. Thank you for the kudos!

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SECOND PART

A Beacon of Hope (Steven)

For most people, the sun would be a solace against the coldness of rain. For Marc Spector, however, the cold means freshness after the searing heat of Egypt. But everything seems perfect when he's not conscious. Marc would think about it as another little tragedy in the long list of misfortunes in his life. It's something Steven Grant would agree with him without a doubt.

The alarm clock has been turned off. The calming sound of rain pouring engulfed him in a profound state of relaxation. This is the best part of redemption. And freedom too. A slight frown forms when a soft, humming sound vibrates through his skin. It's impactful enough for Marc to open his eyes to see the origin of this rare moment of poise and comfort. Thick, curly locks tickled his face-

The sweat gluing their skins together was arousing enough to set his heart on a crazed gallop, shortening his breath. Layla lies in front of him, sleeping with a serenity that Marc loved to watch during sleepless nights. Though he longed for warmth, he resists the impulse to claim her body again, but he's too afraid to disturb her sleep. Layla understood the need to remind himself that he wasn't a tool, but a human.

That was the only good part after bathing himself in blood. He could remember the first time they made love. It wasn't too long after Layla had offered herself to go undercover as am exotic dancer in a secret group of dangerous assassins. She played her part perfectly, even letting herself touch by an old creep that happened to be the leader of the murderous committee.

Marc was watching them from afar, furiously. They weren't even a thing at that point, though he could see her shy smiles whenever he flirted with her as much as she tried to hide it. Having known isolation and lovelessness so close, the moment when that man dared to lay his hands on her, awoke in his chest a burning jealousy. He would never let anyone take her away from him, but he needed to think coldly now.

To earn the trust of the leader, Layla performs a sensual, elegant dance before him and the results are splendid. The leader reveals all the info they needed to get rid of every member of the criminal committee. But it has its costs, as Layla had become the object of his impudent manners. He tries to lay her down the blue, opulent couch to quench his desires as she stares at him from the window, claiming for help.

The man catches a glimpse of her looking outside, and lands a painful, loud slap on her face at her betrayal. But his harsh, tough manners crumble when an inhuman, ghastly howl that appalled not only him, but her too. Marc doesn't think twice to attack him with enraged fists, which soon became reddish, gushing with blood. Layla stays away, observing with amazement how that man, that presence, who seemed so cold and inhuman, protects her with such choleric fury.

Suddenly a feeling of desire fires up her chest, unleashing a wild gallop in her heart. Marc just attacks, roaring like a beast… until Layla begs him to stop, that he's not a murderer. Marc suddenly comes back to his senses, with a blooded moon dart still in hand. Layla gathered enough information to keep assisting Marc, who took her away from the place, securing her in a room where she could change her clothes. The committee had been responsible for many crimes in Egypt, one of them being stealing relics in the black market after raiding tombs. All of them were American, though that was the least of his concerns.

They had a reunion with the other members in an abandoned warehouse. Many noticed the leader's absence, which immediately set suspicion. That was the best part of it.

With the rest of the committee on guard, Marc emerged from the dark. Everyone thought it was a madman in a disguise… until they realized bullets didn't stop him. Convinced they were before the presence of a ghost, many of them give in to panic. Marc was grateful that Layla wasn't there to behold the bloodshed. For his part, Khonshu was delighted. The deity praises Marc, who does not feel proud at all. There's one agonizing bastard staring up to him, with his face contorted by the most tenebrous expression of horror Marc had seen in his whole life.

As he reaches the place where Layla was hiding, he takes her and flies with her to a quieter place: her home.

The armor soon vanishes, leaving him with his usual outfit: a brown jacket, gray pants and a blue sweatshirt. Only the blood serves as a vestige of his deed, making Layla worried about him. She takes a few rags, cleaning the blood, though Marc reassures her that he's fine. A cold shower would do. Once in the bath, Marc takes off his clothes. The sound of water falling suddenly triggers the memory of that fatal day. Spector shuts his eyelids, stopping the flow of water. The shower is short, and trying to forget the faces of those he murdered, Spector looks for slumber.

"Marc?"

Before he finds the bed, he finds something more alluring. Once he turns around, his eyes behold a seductive, sultry Layla from the door sill. Marc is bewitched by her nakedness, those curves, that expression in her face. Awestruck, Marc feels incapable of speaking. Layla giggles. She steps forward but the vigilante is faster: the sexual act demanded for no other clothes except their bare skins. In seconds, both become a mess of entangled limbs on the wall. Layla whispers her gratitude for saving her, while Marc quickly works his way to pleasure her.

How he wished to freeze that moment, specially when her gentle arms cradle his figure as both drift to slumber after their act. The sweet memory of their first night together blurs with the present, as he feels her soft breathing against his face. Fascinated by the fact he was being desired and loved even in the quietest silence, Marc caressed her face. He marvels at her freckles, that flawless skin under his fingers, mouth agape and disheveled hair falling down her face… he had to repress the impulse to wake her up, seduce her, making her come over and over with his mouth just to make her full of himself again.

The stillness is no impediment to feel her naked form lost in his limbs. Her arms latch to his neck, as if her life depends on it. The same occurs with one leg tangling on his thigh. In a passionate outburst, the former mercenary takes Layla much closer to him, lustfully smelling her neck. It made him forget the horrors of the world, finally tasting how a normal life with Layla would be if he wasn't under the servitude of an obscure deity.

“Marc.” Spector opens his eyes, frowning.

“Steven?” he croaks with a thick voice, trying not to wake Layla up. By mere instinct, he looks for a reflection to glare at. But the room lacks any nearby mirrors.

"What… What happened last night?" Steven asked with a shaky voice, seemingly more fearful to wake her up than Spector himself, "why did you…"

"Not now, Steven," Marc tried to dissuade his alter, "we will discuss this later." His dry order just causes a low whine from the mild mannered man.

"Why?" Steven insists, irritating the former mercenary even more. He just sighed, undoing the embrace with Layla to get up off the bed. He put his navy blue boxers on and went to the three mirrored-dresser, facing his alter. He supports in his arms, closing his eyes before facing his reflection.

"Ease down, Steven. You're not gonna make the anxiety easier if you keep losing it," Marc finally said. The British man just let out a scoff.

"You always said that there was a wall between us… that it takes all your willpower to be a fly on the wall… but you… you blacked out." A castdown Marc listens to what Steven has to say about the incident.

"Why did you let me touch her? Why did you let me front when for less you threw me off a hole?" Marc can't help but let a soft chuckle out.

"Things are different now," the former mercenary replied. Steven frowns, his glare reveals a great confusion. Marc scoffs, "you saved my marriage, Steven. With your insufferable need to tell the truth,” he finally replied. The alter waved his hands, for his tone to lower.

"I felt she deserved to know it," Steven muttered, "she's just… she's just an awesome woman to be around…" Marc giggles, raising an eyebrow.

"Is she?" His cheeky expression makes Steven realize the double entendre of it.

"Hey!" He shrieks, blistering.

"Come on, Steven. Don't play innocent. I know the way you look at her, I know you couldn’t stop ogling her since you kissed her."

Steven felt like a depraved creep.

"I don't ogle her, Marc!" He replied from the mirror, outrageous, "I never intended to be a creep around her. She wanted to kiss me because I have the face of her husband… you, but she made the first move and I wasn't going to deny her just because she's your wife."

Marc raised an eyebrow.

"If the Gods gave you a blessing, you don't reject it. Leaving Layla there, after you blacked out, would have been rude to… you know… leave the job unfinished, yeah?"

Marc chuckles after staring at the mirror, surprising Steven with a calmness so atypical from his usual ways. Grant was smart, but he failed to notice that Spector laughed at his own, surprising sassiness.

"It would have been a crime to leave Layla alone at that moment," Steven whispered, more to avoid those long, awkward seconds of silence between them, "I never thought that Layla… would feel like that about me, to let me touch her. I still don't believe it–"

"Well, you better start believing it." Steven widened his eyes, mouth agape.

"What–?"

"You wanna know something, Steven?" Marc muttered, leaning his weight on his arm, supporting himself against the door, "The walls between us have crumbled, and I didn't want to accept that." Marc took a deep breath, as Steven encouraged him to go on.

"At first, I refused to see it but now I know that it was that same wall that prevented me from quieting the chaos in my mind." Steven nodded.

"I was jealous of her looking at you with that tenderness so typical of her, when all I got was hostility and anger from her."

"I can't blame her, mate. You lied to her and went missing. I still think you're a twit for that." Steven commented.

"You know my reasons on why I did that and as for us, that matter is solved" Marc replied. The British nerd sighed.

"All right, go on."

"Well, it happens that… I hadn't seen that look in her eyes since we…"

"Yes?" Steven inquires, eager to know.

"Since she shared a poem before we became a thing."

"Wow!" Steven Grant is genuinely impressed, and comments on how he never expected Marc to be a man of poetry. Both were in the library in her home, checking a few archeological objects. Marc saw she diverted her attention to a book by a French author. His mind couldn't keep fantasizing with her lips when she was so close to him, speaking about two lovers forced to be apart.

"She read me that poem, from Desbordes-Valmore," Steven can notice that this is something very important for Marc, as he turns to stare at a serene, sleeping Layla.

"We had our first kiss after she patiently explained to me what it was about. And I started panicking because of the way she looked at me then." Marc feels his eyes tearing up.

"Why?"

"I was afraid of her going to smack my face when she got up from the chair," his voice broke, "stepped closer to me and… held my head to put it on her chest.

Marc stood silent for nearly a minute, the vivid memory kept him too thoughtful in a sepulchral muteness. By instinct, he had prepared himself for what he thought was another unsparing punch, but all he does is to succumb to her gentleness. Layla is patient, and so she awaits for this breathing to ease down, softly cooing in his ear. Marc likes to hear her heartbeat, and shamelessly nuzzles her breast when Layla asks him what's going on. He doesn't say anything, delighted to glide his hands over her hips, and waist.

"I want the same for you, Steven," Marc whispered, "Why should I keep fighting you when both of us feel the same way about Layla? The key to solving the chaos is that we coexist, Steven." The mild mannered man was flabbergasted.

"What?" He could barely manage to croak. Marc crossed his arms, to emphasize the seriousness.

"Oy, mate…" Steven made a gesture to the former fortune soldier to go easier on him with this new idea of living in a shared marriage, "I think we need some time to think about this before taking it further."

"I made up my mind not too long ago and yet you fail to see it. My wife won't love me fully if she doesn't get to know you better, Steven!"

"Mate, mate, quiet. You'll wake her –!" Spector rolls his eyes, groaning at his stubbornness.

"We were dead in the Duat, and the first thing you asked me was if she was going to be okay."

"But mate, you were the one who took the shot."

"And even in death, you didn't stop loving her, Steven! That proves you deserve her more than I would ever do! That's why you exist!"

Grant remembers the moment where their lives bled together. He lowered his head, saddened. Marc got away from the mirror, ashamed to reduce his alter to a mere tool to cope with his feelings. He covered his face, incapable of looking Steven in the eyes when passing by the aquarium. Spector took a bottle of whiskey and a small glass, just a few feet away from the door.

"I'm sorry, Steven" Marc muttered, shaking his head while holding the drink, "I didn't mean–"

"Alright," Steven interrupts him, "Alright. You want me to be with Layla? Fine, I will if she also wants me… but I have one condition." Marc awaits as the reflection leans half body.

"Tell. Her. The truth."

Marc frowned, confused.

"What truth?"

"About us. About me. Tell Layla about our trauma, our mother–" The last word makes Spector jump like a feline taken by surprise, glass fell, drink all poured on the wooden floor.

"What?!"

"The truth, Marc. I know it's hurtful for both of us, but Layla must know it," the panic starts taking over his composure, "She deserves to know it! You should be the one telling her the truth, more than me! She met you first, she loved you first–" the situation worsens when a feminine voice ceases their conversation.

"Marc?" From his seat, he can see Layla getting up, "is everything okay?" She puts on one of Steven's sweaters, her expression is nothing but worry as she leads her steps to her troubled husband.

"No, no, baby, don't – please!" he begged, moving his hands so she could stay away from him, as if he was a leper, "I'm sorry- I don't want you to see me like this."

"What–?

He got up, turning to the door, though with no intentions of leaving. But Layla takes it all the wrong way.

"I didn't want to do this in front of you," he finally says something after the tense lack of words between them. But it only creates more confusion.

"It's okay, Marc… you can tell me."

His eyes are stuck on the door, futilely sealed with blue adhesive tape. The excessive protection made it look cartoonish, but even like that, Layla attempts to calm him down.

"You can trust me! Just please stop running away from me!" Her voice broke down in sobs. Marc hated that sound so much. The guilt of seeing those red, watery eyes was almost as if had made her bleed when all she did was offer compassion, patience and love to him. He gripped his hair, tightening his eyelids. Marc would never forgive himself for her deeply hurt expression in her face. How different their situation was just a few hours ago: drowning in ecstasy, screaming each other's names. Why was it that Spector never had long moments of stability or happiness?

"Mate, I swear…" Steven hissed, furious at his passiveness, "if you run now, we lose her! Do you understand that?!"

Marc takes a deep breath.

"Layla isn't like our mother!" Steven screamed inside his skull, "tell her the truth and she will understand."

"Marc, please tell me something! You don't get to fuck me and leave as if nothing happened!" Layla yelled, unaware of Grant's own feud with Spector.

"She's gonna run, Steven. She's gonna realize she married an insane, murderous bastard who can barely keep it together!" He shrieked, violently palming his head.

Layla gasps, stepping back.

"Honey, you're scaring me…" Layla sobs, horrified. She tries again to connect, but the former mercenary refuses to give in to any display of affection, trying the best to smother the pain, leaving him unable to enjoy her adorable habit of extending her hands to hold his face or arms, whenever he felt he lost control of his emotions.

"Don't leave me…" he pleaded, voice barely audible, looking at the aquarium for Steven to help him contain him.

"Why are you saying all those horrible things to yourself?" Layla touched his face and the result frightened her: She couldn't distinguish between her husband and her newfound British nerd, which made her hand recoil. Layla couldn't believe that this soulless, broken man was the same ghastly apparition which had inspired so much horror in criminals.

Whoever is in the body, doesn't make a move. There's no mercenary, no vigilante, not even a sad, meek loner. Just a disheveled, disoriented individual who can't stop staring at the beautiful woman, as if refusing to believe she's real. Layla extends her hand and caresses his cheek once again.

The helplessness in Spector's face manages to be so moving, so devastating for her kind heart, that Layla cannot help but to plant a kiss in his mouth. He does consent to the caress, though he doesn't kiss her back.

She tasted the flavor of early whiskey on him and Marc finally seemed to snap out of his trance. His lips trembled while a few shaky words left his mouth. Layla waits for it, with bated breath. As much as he hated Arthur Harrow, he can't help but agree with him about comprehension: there can't be no progress without it.

"Please… please say something…" Layla begged, after breaking the kiss.

"Steven…" he whispered, with eyes closed. Before Marc could say anything else in response, Layla remembers what happened between the British nerd and her in bed.

"Oh my God, are you upset because… because I slept with him?" but Marc frowned, waving his hands.

"No, no–" he whispered.

"I didn't mean to betray you or make you feel jealous… I'm sorry… I should have stopped when he fronted," Layla covered her face, regretful.

"I'm not upset about that," Marc held her hands with his to calm her down. Layla sobbed, drying her tears with the back of her hand. Knowing him, it was hard to believe he wasn't jealous of his alter's affections for her, as absurd as it sounded.

"We need to talk about… Steven," Marc muttered, "He has been nagging me to…" he cleared his throat, nervousness taking over his mind, "Steven, for fuck's sake, say something! Help me!" He hissed with a low voice.

"I'm with you, mate…"

Layla feels her heart soar as she hears Marc mentioning his alter.

"Nagging you to do what?"

Marc looked back at her.

"To tell you… the truth."

"What truth, Marc?" He inhaled deeply.

"About myself… my disorder… and what caused it." The last sentence sounded ominous, but it didn't stop her compassive ways to keep flourishing. Layla sits down with him at the table. Marc slides his hands down his face in despair, just after following Layla. He grabbed the whiskey and drank the remaining liquid, placing the empty bottle at his side. Alcohol helped to disconnect the physical and mental pain.

"He chose me because he knew I have a weak mind. That's why I hated Khonshu. I hated him with every fiber of my body, because that vulture ripped my corpse to hold me under his servitude!"

Layla nodded, remembering how Khonshu had pointed her as the responsible for Marc's crisis. The former mercenary lowers his head. The feeling of vulnerability becomes unbearable. It had been easier to reveal the truth to Steven while in the Duat. He wishes to have the door, and show her everything, with no need of speaking.

Marc cannot help but feel that there's something inexplicably evil with words. Words hold an unspoken, powerful effect on one's soul, and no amount of love could erase the scars left by a mother's hatred and a father's indifference. Broken bones could heal, bruises could fade away but the livid memory of Wendy Spector striking him and blaming him for her dead son would haunt him until the day he'd die.

"Dissociative Identity Disorder," Marc finally spoke. Layla stares at him but her husband just adds:

"I was twelve when I was diagnosed," the expressions on his face were shaded by a profound sadness. His mirthless eyes cause an immense sorrow on her. Marc covered his face, as if trying to peel off the shame. Layla intertwined her fingers with his, nodding so he would continue.

"Dissociative Identity?" She asked, tilting her head.

"The doctor said it is a psychological response to trauma. It involves an identity disturbance, where two or more identities can control your behavior," Marc explained, monotonously, "It feels like being a ghost of your own body." Layla covered her mouth, dimensioning the bodeful definition.

A psychological response to trauma.

"I had a family once," Marc suddenly added, "when… When I was a boy, my brother Randall and I loved to enact an adventure film we were fans of, so we crossed a forest and went to a cave on a rainy day–" he interrupted himself, gulping and gathering strength to keep opening up. Layla takes his hands and brushes distractingly her thumbs on them, giving him the confidence he needed. Marc squeezed his eyelids, holding back the tears.

"We got into the cave… and he drowned when the rain flooded it," he breathed, as if saying it louder would conjure another tragedy. His words reconstruct the fatidical day and its consequences. Layla listens carefully, granting him space. But once Marc broke down in rattling sobs, she immediately got up from the chair to wrap his trembling form in her arms.

Layla didn't oppose when Marc trapped her form in his arms with heartbreaking despair, sitting her on his lap. It helped to maintain their stillness, which contrasted so much with the torment in their minds.

The chaos within prevented him from deciding where to start. Where pain and death caused suffering, lies began to sprout and so does the desire to become someone else. Someone whose life was better.

Marc leaned his forehead to her shoulder.

"It's just a memory..." he repeated himself constantly, like a mantra. Suddenly he remembered those birthdays on company of his father. The absence of his mother only poisoned Marc's mind with delusional notions, which bordered on jealousy and his premeditation for what happened. Locking himself in the room was always the solution to run away from Wendy Spector's anger, but Steven…

(When the danger is near, Steven Grant has no fear)

Layla stared at him, trying to understand what was going on in her head. But Spector suddenly understands something greater: Mother is the danger.

"She never forgave me for that, beating the fuck out of me whenever she had the chance. I lied to Steven, so he could have the life I always wanted," Marc hides his face in her chest, "I survived because I knew I wasn't alone. Steven was there, always so full of life, hope… things that Marc Spector isn't."

The former mercenary ached for tenderness, understanding, to be loved. To be protected and not the protector, for once. To let his defenses fall, to breathe, just for once. Layla feels his fingers clutching at her back, and hears him sobbing.

"I wanted to put Spector to sleep! I was just a boy!" Marc exclaimed. More than ever, he wishes to throw into oblivion those horrifying epithets his mother yelled at him, accusing him of deliberately leading his brother to his demise out of jealousy.

"Of course you were!" Layla tries to heal this regretful war criminal whose soul had been rebuilt through suffering and selflessness. As much as Layla gave him peace, her love is powerless against the painful words still echoing in his head.

"She… she died more than two months ago," Marc whispered, once he overcame his sobs, "my father called me after so long, for her Shiva and I just… I just couldn't do it."

"It's all right, you don't have to forgive her either," Layla held his face in her hands, peppering his forehead with kisses. There's so much love in her tone of voice, and the former mercenary can be happier to hear it again.

"I'm so, so sorry…" she gently rocked him, trying to repress the image of Marc as a child being brutally beaten by the one person who was supposed to protect him when he needed her the most.

The inevitable contrast between her loving father and his hateful mother worsened her dismay. Abdallah El-Faouly had been such an attentive, indulgent parent with her, that she couldn't bring herself that a mother could abhor and resent her own child for such an unfortunate accident.

Marc has tightened his grip on her waist, hiding his face and whispering something unintelligible. Layla feels a strong uneasiness when his breath shortens. He had always dwelled in thoughts on how his life would be without Khonshu, without the violence, without waking up covered in someone else's blood, without the worry of Khonshu's clutches trying to reach his wife.

"You alright, Marc?" Steven asks at his sudden silence, not knowing his internal feud. A fiery, deathly glare is all he can threaten Khonshu with as he catches a glimpse of him, partially merged with the darkness of the right corner near the aquarium, holding his typical moon staff. Layla keeps still, cradling his form, ignoring the danger. Marc shakes his head, squeezing his eyelids shut.

(Organizing principle)

He pictures himself inside a psych ward. As if the asylum was the physical manifestation of an evil entity, Marc feels that wearing clothes of the same, unpleasant whitish served as an extension of it. All he now sees is a calm Khonshu sitting in a red chair, hands crossed in a polite, almost welcoming manner. He remembers his words before becoming his legionary. But the vulture speaks.

"Do you want death or do you want life?"

He opened his eyes, slowly lifting his head. His reality is another: Her face is all he sees when the last words ring in his ear. Layla under those purple lights, with that playful smile she gave him, is the first thing he can envision after returning among the living. He then sees Khonshu placidly sitting just a few inches away from her.

"Life."

Layla tilted her head, trying to understand what he just said. Marc was looking at her as if he had realized something of great importance. A chance to spend his years with a loving wife. A hope to start all over again. That was the promise of that one, precious word. Hope. Understanding. Love.

Three things he hadn't experienced.

"Honey?" She caressed his hair.

"I said…" Spector croaked, "I. Want. Life!" Marc's breath shortened.

The panic doesn't take long to return, but Marc frantically latches at her neck, whispering things that she couldn't comprehend at first. The vehement display of (tormented) love causes Layla to grasp on his shoulders, instead of running away after the startling fear.

"Marc, chill the fuck down, you're scaring her!" Steven yelled but it fell on deaf ears. It wasn't a hug. It was as if Marc was snatching her from something, protecting Layla with a possessive, vice-like grip. His raspy voice vibrates through her skin.

"I anxiously awaited every bloodshed to end to engulf myself in you so I could forget just for a brief moment that my life wasn't a nightmare, that not everything could be against me!" Marc spat, confessing from his guts, looking up to her.

Layla was so moved, realizing she meant more for him than she initially thought. She had always taken his rampant sexual desire as a way to relieve the fervour of violence when executing his sacred duty. The heartbreaking truth demolished the façade of invincibility. Now she could fully see that there was always more than just mere lust or physical need.

She remembers the countless times she had been with him, coming to realize that what he couldn't express in words, his body could. Sex served as a way to protect Marc. Hearing the words that bared his soul, his innate humanity demanded vulnerability, beyond his condition as the Knight and High Priest of Khonshu.

"I never told you about Steven because being with you made me happy!" Marc suddenly continued, "I didn't need Steven to absorb any pain! There wasn't anything painful or something to shield me from whenever I was with you."

He had never been the weak one. His tenderness, his clumsy, sweet ways were the shield that saved Marc from a greater insanity. The beautiful, everyday things, the wonderful family he had, all of it had died with RoRo that dreadful day. Being aware of the wrong, evil things happening around him was already hard but being the one who failed his promise to his mother to watch over his brother made it harder and worse to tolerate.

At that moment he cursed everything. He cursed Harrow for the two bullets that ended his life, thus obliging him to face his traumas, for abandoning Layla when she needed him the most, for lying to her and for not saving Steven from the dead, claiming him to doom his eternity in the dunes. The golden sun that shone in an eternal dusk wasn't too different from being locked up in an asylum. There was nothing calm without him and Layla understands it perfectly, since Steven is a fraction of the same man.

Marc then mentions his time as a teenager. After being locked up in an asylum for three years, Spector decides to leave. Tired of the abuse, the indifference and seeing love as something he was unworthy of, Marc chooses violence. It has its roots in boxing, much to Elias' chagrin. If his mother largely ignored him during his teen years, his father smothered him with the idea to become a rabbi.

How could he? At this point, he was convinced that he was good at one thing: hurting people. Because the people dear to him, those who loved him suffered or died. Love had never done good for him, reaffirming his (wrong) choice to never want to be loved. For many years, Marc thought that's why he always won. His harsh ways were just a façade to hide the immense pain he carried.

"I went AWOL and got discharged. They discovered that I falsified my documents, finding out I was interned in a psych ward. I didn't have too many options. Clandestine fights helped me to live decently for a while, before Bushman hired me as his second in command. The rest is history. I became a war criminal. A fucked up, soldier of fortune capable of inhumane acts for money. Until the raid in Egypt."

Layla nodded, though not agreeing with the self deprecating epithet.

"Whenever I think about all the things I did, I always wondered what made you fall in love with me. I always felt I was nothing but an innate, demented killer, a failure, a lie–" he cut himself, since being aware that Layla deserved better was the most painful part.

"Because you're no longer that person. You don't live in the past anymore," She immediately refused to hear any other negative word. Marc felt one hand gently scratching his nape, while the other held his back. He was totally ecstatic at the gesture, treating him with such care, immersing himself in the warmth he had yearned so much since his innocence was mauled, "please believe me when I tell you that no disorder will prevent me from loving you!"

She now holds his face, kissing him. But Layla doesn't move an inch away after ceasing the caress.

"You're exactly what you've chosen to be– a strong man determined to make up for the evil you once did, a believer and a fighter who has put himself on the good side– a new man that emerged from the ruins of what you were before."

Layla whispers so many beautiful things about why she is so in love with him. Marc is delighted to hear her: It was so haunting to think that this mysterious, yet immensely alluring crusader was lovesick for her.

There was something so wonderful and thrilling to experience the softer side of this force of nature, intrigued to see his face while making love, to see him subdued by the promise of love, of moments without violence. She understands the tremendous pressure Marc has put on his mind, trying to live the lives of two different men during a critical moment in his life.

"I know who and what you are, Marc! You are the strongest human I ever met! You're not mad! You're the man I love! Do you understand that?!" Layla brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, "Your own suffering diminished other's misery, you protected me, you died for me and you still think you're unworthy of love?"

Marc doesn't answer. For a moment, the sweet sound of her voice made him forget to talk. Now, Spector only has strength to listen to these beautiful words and comprehend their effect on his psyche.

"I'm proud of you, mate. You're so brave!" Steven's voice cheered from within, soothing his heart. Marc smiles, as Layla softly and patently caresses his hair, "You're so lucky to have her, Marc. She's so kind, so loving…"

"She is, she is," Marc hums, pressing his forehead on her shoulder.

"Huh?" She asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry– It's… it's Steven," he whispered, then he softly adds, "he's saying wonderful things about you."

"Can he see us? Can he feel me when I touch you?" Layla hummed, pressing her lips on Marc's. The caresses now go up and down his face, neck, his broad shoulders.

"He can see, yes" The former mercenary says with a faint voice, too focused on kissing her breast, even with the sweater on. He remembers how beautiful she looked as Taweret's avatar. Those golden wings made her look like a celestial being.

Marc remembered what Steven had said about the goddess in the Duat. The goddess of women and children… and also childbirth.

It unchained a memory from many years ago. It was in a market, days before the raid that changed his life. He was having a drink, when he heard a couple of archeologists talking about local mythology and temples. Marc found the conversation quite interesting. They talked about one deity in particular, associated with the moon and protection of night travelers. It was said that whenever Khonshu caused the crescent moon to shine, fertility blessed the cattle, nostrils became full of pure air… and women conceived.

The last sentence caused a dull, yet significant shiver between his legs. Marc leads his hands underneath the sweater, slowly kneading her way up to her waist.

"What is it?" Layla asked, eyeing the curious and aching hands fondling her sinuosities.

"I want to sleep with you," Marc hummed against her skin. Layla rolled her eyes, giggling.

"So what's new?"

"It just so happens that we don't have to prevent a global catastrophe nor I don't have to punish evildoers anymore," Marc chuckled but his smile soon morphed into a pleased grimace when he lifted the cloth, making Layla gasp when he drools at the sight of her bare breasts, carefully fondling them after tossing the sweater aside. He's about to say something to praise her splendid nudity but a long, loud -and straight-out hilarious- gasp is everything he can hear for now.

"Oh my God– Marc, she– she looks gorgeous! " Steven is breathless. Spector can't help but laugh at his fascination, though he totally understood it. He had seen her body in the dark, but having the privilege to behold her body in broad daylight made his brain lose the capacity to think clearly. Layla looks down but Marc rushes to clarify things.

"It's… it's Steven," his name suddenly draws a happy expression on her face, "he really likes what he's seeing…"

"Well, he can see us before we get to fuck again" Layla states, rubbing his shoulders and arms, "so he knows what's gonna be like from here."

"He is the kind of man that can make you happy." Steven can love you in ways I can't…" he whispered but Layla cut his doubts with a kiss.

"Both of you make me happy, I'll have you both. He's a part of you that you can't ignore. I can't ignore him."

Marc brushes her nipple with his fingers distractingly before kissing it. Layla's breathy moan is instantaneous. He smirks. He adores her reactions, just as if it was the first time they had been together.

"You are the reason why I'm still sane, why I'm still alive…" he breathed against the orbed part, making Layla shudder… To then give a quick lick to the areola. All he obtains is a soft, pitiful whine which doesn't take too long to make him hard. Without neglecting the part, he looked down at their privates so closely pressed.

Marc is drooling over the sight. A thin, black thong is the only thing preventing her full nudity but an atypical, impatient echo from Steven startles the calm silence.

"Bloody hell, Marc–! Do something!"

Layla feels a ferrous grip on her hips and she realizes his intentions: Marc tugs the thong with urgency, tossing it to the floor to make his wife rub herself on his covered length.

"I can't stand being without you," Spector pronounced, unconscious. He only has energy to focus on the beautiful image of Layla straddling him but a sharp scratch on his shoulders manages him to regain his strength. The interruption was followed by an awkward silence that Layla soon avoids, despite how weak his touches left her.

"Honey?"

He suddenly remembers why he loves when Layla goes rough on him: This is the only pain he loves, for it is through that same pain that Marc knows he's alive. Their bodies wouldn't stop lusting for each other and Marc Spector's unbridled desire longs for something serving as a reminder of this rare moment of euphoria. He loves to see the scars left all over his back, and he's dying to feel that pleasurable pain all over again.

"Again," Spector orders.

Layla bites her lip and looks down impishly. Marc chuckles when he senses her hand pressing his nape, so his face was buried between her breasts.

"Be gentle," she asks in return and greatly rejoices when Spector puts his tongue to work on her nipple. Layla smiles when Marc cannot take it anymore, holding her while getting up. Both bodies slammed against the wall once Marc cornered Layla.

"What do you want your good girl to do, husband?" She whispered sensually.

The small furniture helped his eager hands to spread her legs, so he could see the effect he had on her body. Layla feels so vulnerable by offering her drenched sex so openly, with an starving husband impeding any escape. His hands caressed the inner thighs, lining softly her folds and her wet, warm intimacy.

Marc got rid of his boxers, hypnotized by her pink, glistening intimacy he so eagerly wanted to invade. He leads his hands to his mouth, oiling his fingers just before he teased her femininity, right on her fleshy bud. Layla jolted violently, everything is becoming blurry and all Marc can do is to gather enough strength to insert himself inside her.

"I want you to come around me, baby," he muttered against Layla's mouth. She holds his face with avid tenderness, loving those rebellious curls falling on his forehead. His exhausted yet completely ecstatic expression ignited her to taste his lips, setting aside a few locks.

"Fuck- I only–" Layla doesn't allow him to talk with her voracious kisses, "wanna–wanna feel you on me," Marc circles perfectly her swollen bud and Layla just ceases the passionate kisses to writhe and moan for him, crying his name when she feels her moistened depths fluttering, yearning to be invaded, to receive Marc in the ways he deserved, so he can feel the exquisite captivity imprisoning his flesh even more.

Marc needs more of her sounds, smiling at her urged, needful calling ring in his ears. He knows his life is made of contradictions, as being a war criminal while being the only living son of a rabbi. He was joyful and exultant to be a fearful force of nature and a touch starved man subdued by love. She calls him, wishing her man to claim her body and soul. Just then, Marc howls, desperate for humanity:

"JUST FUCK ME UNTIL I LOVE MYSELF!" he exclaims, out of his mind.

Marc holds her closer to him, to bind her very soul with his. He slowly opened his eyes, staring at her blurred face but her voice echoes in his mind:

"Habibi…" she lovingly lulled into his ear, knowing the effect the endearing name had on him. Once his vision is clear, he becomes lost in her loving glare, far from those harsh looks he had received during his whole fucking life. How can he not love her, if Layla is the living opposite to every abusive person that had crossed paths with him? As with Steven, Marc is maddened by the fact that someone tried to understand him from a loving perspective, instead of being examined and observed as a mentally ill lunatic.

"Habibi…" she murmured again, shuddering at the touch of his fingers down her body, tangling some curls from the abundant mane that barely managed to cover that lovely bosom of hers. His hand sneaks between her legs and he smiles when he hears Layla claiming his name, begging for more. Though he intends a more profound exploration of her body, his long, lost gaze suggests confusion as to where to start touching.

Fascination takes over Layla when she feels an atypical gentleness in his touches, as if she was made of glass. Layla perceived that this kindness was not like him, but rather from…

"We both need you," Marc said as he slid his fingertips over her chest before pouncing like a hungry animal, sliding his tongue to reach the part previously pampered, tasting it more hungrily now. His hand drew impatient circles all over the swollen bud, making her lose the little composure she had left.

His mouth gently nibbled at the hardened nipple and then looked up at her mischievously. Layla never felt so aroused in her life by just a gaze. Although Marc didn't believe it when she mentioned it, Layla just melted before the manly beauty of her husband. His eyes, his black hair, his intense gaze… soon Layla feels Marc is everything she needs now.

Marc is still doing his wonders with his hands, but they cease once he decides to close the wounds of both of them, left behind by so many lies and so much foolishness when answering the call of his flesh, which ardently cries out to abandon the solitude that individuality meant.

Layla sobs and whimpers as she is invaded, relieved to receive him inside her. Marc wasted no time in thrusting into her desperately, panting heavily as pleasure made him lose his mind.

"You like that, don't you?" and Layla nods with a cute, playful expression in her face, prompting Marc to continue. He was blissfully overwhelmed by the warm, living constriction that adjusted to his length each time he slammed inside.

Layla arched her back several times against the wall, fighting against the pleasurable pain cramps spread all over her thighs, her belly. Her labored breathing turns into scandalous moans.

"That's it... Moan, moan for me" Marc pays more attention to her heated intimacy, getting exactly what he wanted. These were whispered words, sometimes incoherent, but beautiful. Her moans are interspersed with her native Arabic, whose sound helps to heal his heart. Marc played with the fleshy pearl hidden in his privacy, causing his wife to stir with pleasure.

The former mercenary feels the rapture reaching unimaginable dimensions when her twitching depths brutally contract around him. His voice rumbles with ecstatic moans as he pours himself inside her. Marc felt it was as if her soul begged in every (humanly) way for him to stay there, with her… wanting his rigid sex melted with hers for good, something he happily conceded.

"Looks like someone wants to be a father," she jokingly said, but another animalistic thrust from Marc seemed to confirm what she suspected.

"I could be one, you know…" Marc hums against her mouth. Both laughed it off.

It is a mad, sweet addiction.

This is the only madness that Marc wants: this love, the one a man feels towards a woman, the love that reduces a man to a slave, to a madman. He is proud to recognize himself addicted to her body, to her love, to her good heart, to the fact that their bodies could not stop once they united. Layla glides her hands over his neck, feeling the skin vibrate as he speaks.

"Save me…" She saw how lost his expression was, still basking in the elation of being one, "save us…"

That blissful glare was rare and gorgeous to gaze at. His forehead touched her shoulder, repeating the plea over and over. He probably didn't even know what he was saying at this point. She caresses his hair but Marc keeps his vicious, downright desperate grip around her waist, hiding his face.

"She's a goddess, Marc!" An enraptured Steven Grant exclaims from within. Marc groans at the strident joy of his alter and it catches Layla's attention.

"Sweetie?" She asks. It takes a few seconds for Marc to react. He breaks their physical bond, without getting away from her.

"Steven wants to hug you," Marc murmured. Layla tilted her head, softly laughing at the tender request.

"Did he enjoy our little show?" She playfully asked.

"I think he did," Marc giggled, looking right at her, "it means a lot to him, you know?" He steps away from her, looking at the mirror's reflection, which showed an impatient Steven, "alright, you're in."

Layla closely pays attention to the moment her husband keeps mute for a moment. He turned around, quickly glancing at her. Layla's face beams with happiness as Steven gasps at the sight of her, completely exposed. She got down from the furniture, walking towards him.

"Oh, dear!" Steven almost stumbled, seeing her and himself with no clothes on. He doesn't move an inch, incapable of taking his eyes off her. Layla finally comes close to him, extending her hand to caress his face.

"Steven." His breath shortened as her hands reached his lips, brushing her thumb over it. His fearful, innocent attitude, so distant from Marc's rough ways, makes her feel guilty for how angry she was at him when they met.

"Steven Grant… from the gift shop," she lovingly hummed, while slowly wrapping his neck with her arms. She can feel his body tensing, especially when his chest is pressed against hers, "don't be afraid…"

She starts leaving a line of kisses all over his neck, to let him know it was real. He groans softly, sliding his hands down her waist as a sensual compensation for her embrace.

"Layla…" he muttered, bewitched by her beauty, "look–look I–" nervousness makes him clear his throat, trying to hide the panic. Layla undoes the hug, causing a low whine from Steven. Layla pays full attention to him. She has that look in her eyes, full of love, of understanding.

Everything changed all of a sudden. Not too long ago, Steven had been dwelling in depression for a missed date, sick of his usual bad luck. Layla's gentle heart makes him forget that angry call, the shame… he still has trouble thinking something or someone this good couldn't be true.

"Last night… last night was amazing," Steven Grant stutters, but it doesn't scare her off. She keeps listening carefully, "I never thought you wanted me in that way… I just freaked out because I didn't know what was happening."

A cute smile on Layla's lips encourages him to continue.

"You…" he says, feeling the typical lightheadedness of love brought with it, "you looked absolutely lovely. I feel… I feel I've been waiting for this moment my whole life."

She nods, smiling as she remembers the kiss in the desert. Layla also remembers she had been the one starting the affections. But the memory itself doesn't prompt her to properly resume what Steven had interrupted (even if it was with a noble reason). It was the rapture that made his eyes shine. That same love he looked at her with back before finding Ammit's tomb. Layla's face came closer to his, searching to lock their mouths.

Steven gladly consents and responds to her hungry kiss, praising her each time their mouths broke the caress. The sound of their lips colliding sent shivers through his nerves, thinking this could be the beginning to more touches.

"I absolutely loved you fucking me so hard, Steven with a V," Layla whispered between kisses, stopping for a few seconds to bathe in the tender praise. The nerd chuckles happily. After all, she remembers that silly rhyme.

"When I came here, I wanted my husband and I ended up with two instead."

"I thought that if I was under the service of an evil, stupid pigeon, I was also married to you.” The mild mannered man pants against her mouth, loving the feel of her breath on his face.

Layla sneaks her tongue inside his mouth, parting his lips. Steven allows her to, leading his restless hands towards her chest, squeezing her soft forms. Layla broke the kiss, eyes open in surprise at his daring boldness. The long and awkward silence scares Steven, ashamed of his impulsivity:

"I'm sorry, I don't want you to think I'm a creep or something–"

"No!" Layla calmed him down but Steven's insecurity keeps speaking for him:

"I'm sorry, it's just… just before I met you, I missed a date. All because Marc had to retrieve that golden beetle. I don't remember kissing anyone until you," Steven places his hands over her shoulders, "I don't remember anyone until you. Please tell me this isn't the last time we do it."

Layla rolls her eyes, taking his hands to place them all over her chest, so he could squeeze and fondle them.

"Didn't you hear me? I said–" she pulled him closer to her to then purr, "you can see us before we get to fuck again." Steven moans when his fingers get to touch the nascent line to the full, round part.

"That's it… touch them if you're not convinced," Layla approves his touches, putting her hands over Steven's and he's there again, consumed by desire. His eyes reflect an incommensurable gratitude and profound relief.

"That is the best part of all this adventure," Steven whispered, amorously holding her hands on his, "I got to meet the wife I didn't know I had. How was I supposed to live the simple, normal, peaceful life Marc intended if you're not in it?" The line is powerful enough to make a tear fall from her eye.

"You can now, Steven" she held him close, "because you're alive and I can touch you and love you." Steven wraps his arms around her waist once both lay down. He holds her with passion, gratefulness, free of any thought concerning his solitude.

Layla means 'night' in both Hebrew and Arabic, and for the first time in his life, Marc Spector could succumb to rest, feasting his eyes on the beautiful stars that saved his existence from complete darkness.

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cutelittleluckysoul · 2 years

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Since Layla has me quite in love and my mind doesn't allow me not to stop thinking about her, you could write an obscene piece where Layla looks for you after a fight with her suit on but her intention is to take out some of her fury on you. Sometimes I don't understand myself well lol

OHHHH I am so here for it😏

Warnings: 18+ Minors do not interact! THIS IS SMUT! Honestly what is a plot? Reader is female. Basically dom!Layla. face sitting, fingering, eating out. Language. Also not proof read

A night to remember (Layla El Faouly x fem!Reader)

The night wasn't supposed to end like this. Layla and you were at a Gala where they were auctioning artifacts. Layla being Layla had to be there of course. And because neither of you thought anything bad would happen there you accompanied her. You even got a new dress for the occasion. The two of you almost didn't even leave because the moment Layla saw you in the beautiful dress, that hugged your curves in all the right places, almost all thoughts about the artifact left her brain. The only thought left was making you scream her name in that dress. She had pressed her lips against yours, swallowing your surprised gasps. One hand had tangled in your hair the other groped your ass. It was hard to pull away. But you knew that this was important to her. She nipped at your lips and reluctantly agreed.

Looking back you wished you would have stayed at the hotel with her. But alas here you were now. Some guys fighting with Layla, who was now in her Scarlet Scarab outfit. She was kicking ass, which honestly did turn you on a little. But she was losing you could see it. After a particularly hard kick, she was knocked down briefly and the men took that time to scurry off with the artifact. Layla was ready to chase after them but you held her back, looking at her worriedly. There was a fire in her eyes that you rarely saw.

"Please let's just get back to the hotel. Fight another day?" She looked at you and after a few seconds nodded in agreement. She took your hand and basically dragged you back to the hotel room. You could barely keep up with her pace. Good for you that it wasn't far.

She dragged you inside the room and closed the door. Before you could even open your mouth to talk to her and try to calm her down, you were pinned against the door, Layla's lips crashing onto yours.

A surprised moan left you, which she used to her advantage and slip her tongue into your mouth, teasing and playing with your own. She really took your breath away with the way she was kissing you and pinning you against the door. You were putty in her hands and you were willing to do everything for her in that moment.

As she finally parted from you, not after she took your bottom lip between her teeth and pulled at it a little, you were finally able to take in a deep breath. Your heart hammering against your ribs. Already out of breath and you just kissed. She always had this effect on you. As you look at her, lips swollen from the kiss, you could see a spark in her eyes, that you rarely saw. She was still in her scarlet scarab outfit and that alone was turning you on even more.

You could not help yourself and pulled her in for another heated kiss. You could feel her smirking against your lips as she pulled you away from the door and you barely registered that she was moving you two to the bedroom. Your lips never parted from one another, one of her hands groping the flesh of your ass.

Reaching the bedroom she pulled your dress down, careful not to ruin it. She let out an appreciative hum upon seeing your lack of underwear. Layla pushed you onto the bed rather harshly and you bounced slightly on it. She didn't miss a beat and she was on top of you, kissing your neck. Slightly bending your neck, so she had better access. She was biting and sucking hickeys onto your neck. You weren't quite sure if you would be able to cover them all, but you could care less about that right now.

Layla finally happy with her job apparently licked a stripe down your neck to your decollete. "Your tits looked so good in this dress, so distracting all evening. No wonder I couldn't catch these guys when all I could think about was burying my face between these." To emphasize her point she squeezes one of your breasts pinching your nipple, which made you squeal. You knew she was not going to be soft on you today. Layla licked around your perked nipple as she toyed with the other one. One of your hands came to twist into her curls, pulling softly as she bit into your nipple, letting out a wanton moan. She made sure to leave some hickeys on your chest as well. Surely you would look like you've been in a fight tomorrow.

Finally, she kissed her way further down your body, taking her place between your legs. She looked at your exposed pussy, already glistening with your arousal. Layla grinned and looked up at you. Her eyes darker than usual. "Already so wet for me. Tell me little mouse, what do you want?" Words seem to fail you as you looked at her, kissing the inside of your thighs. You apparently took too long to answer her, as she bit into your thigh, yelping a little from the pain. "Answer me." "Want you to touch me." Your voice was almost timid. Layla grinned tracing her fingertips dangerously close to your mound but never quite touching you were you needed her. Were you were aching for her. "Oh but I am touching you. Aren't I little mouse? I think you have to be more specific." "Layla please..." You were always a little embarrassed to talk to her like that. She snarled and got back over you, her hand squeezing your cheeks. "Either you tell me what you need or you won't get any at all and I will just finish myself off. Are we clear?" You nodded quickly and she released your face. You very rarely saw her like this but damn it was turning you on. "I want you to touch my pussy please... I want your fingers inside of me. I want your mouth on me. Please Layla." She hummend, very pleased with you. She gave you a quick kiss. "That wasn't so hard was it?" Your cheeks were hot in embarrassment still but that soon was forgotten as she again took her place between your legs. She wasted no time and drove right in. Her tongue lapping up your juices that were coating you, her tongue occasionally dipping inside of you.

Your head is thrown back as you let out loud moans at her ministration. She held two fingers before your lips, which you immediately took into your mouth. Sucking on them and coating them in your spit. She pulls them out way too soon for your liking and you are ready to protest. But the moment you open your mouth all that leaves is a loud moan of her name, as she pushes the two fingers inside of you.

She didn't waste any time as she thrusts her fingers into you over and over again at a fast pace. Sucking on your clit at the same time. One of your hands was in her hair holding on for dear life, the other one was fisting the bedsheet. As she started to curl her fingers inside of you, hitting that spot that drives you crazy, you couldn't hold back. Your hips rose off the bed as you came with a shout of her name, toes curling. Your mind was fuzzy and you thought that Layla would stop now so you could return the favour. But she didn't. Her fingers still pumping into you, a little slower this time but still hitting that perfect spot. Her tongue playing with your sensitive clit.

You looked down at her, finding her looking already at you. Eyes still dark there was a mischievous glint in them. Yep, you are in for it tonight. The pace of her fingers picked up again, scissoring inside of you, her tongue flicking your clit, occasionally sucking on it. You were so sensitive still that it did not take long for you to be right there on the edge again. Your legs started to shake as she drew another orgasm out of you. This went on for two more rounds. Finally letting go of you after your fourth orgasm, your legs were limb and your whole body felt heavy and oh so satisfied. Your ears were ringing. But Layla was not done with you just yet. She stood up taking off her shoes and pants. The gold armor of her chest plate glistened wetly. Your face grew even hotter as it already did as you realized that it was your arousal from your last and final orgasm. You haven't even fully realized that you squirted.

The rest of her outfit stayed on as she shuffled back over you, hovering above your face. The white linen from underneath the gold plate covered her still. You raised a heavy arm and pulled it to the side. Layla took this as her invitation to fully sink onto your face. You let out a hum, you could smell her arousal, and licked a long stripe from her entrance to her clit. Layla gave a pleased moan as she tugged at your hair with one hand. The other hand was resting on the wall for support. Your fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs holding her close to you as you lapped at her wetness. Your tongue circling around her entrance, your nose brushing her clit. Layla's moans only encouraged you more, and so you started to push your tongue inside of her.

Layla threw her head back in pleasure, her hips circling carefully, so her clit catches on your nose for the much needed friction. You hummed her taste and smell all you could think about, all you wanted to think about. You wanted to please her. You looked up at her. She looks like a goddess and you are more than gladly her throne. Her head was still thrown back, her curls wild, and god if you already completely whipped for her you sure would have been now.

Her grip on your hair tightened and you could feel her clenching and pulsation around your tongue, indicating that she was close. Another hum left your throat. You wanted to taste her sweet release. Pulling your tongue out of her and shifting your face a little you took her clit into her mouth and sucked on it flicking with your tongue. With a cry of your name she finally came, riding your face even more now and you let her, way too occupied with lapping up her sweet release. Her legs shook next to your head as her orgasm rocked through her. your fingers still digging into her flesh. You haven't even realized how hard you were gripping them, leaving small half-moons as you finally released them.

Carefully, and for your taste way too soon, Layla climbed off of you, making you let out a small whine. Even though you were exhausted you always wanted more of her. As she lay down next to you, still a little out of breath, she looked at you fondly. The dark look in her eyes finally gone. With a soft kiss on your lips she got up and, a little wobbly made her way to the bathroom. Seconds later she emerged with a wet cloth in her hand and sat down on the bed again. Slowly she began cleaning you up between your legs. This would have to be enough for now. Honestly, all you wanted to do now was cuddle with her and sleep. Soon enough she was done, putting the rag somewhere, you couldn't care less. She took off the rest of her outfit and finally laid down next to you, pulling you into her.

Relaxing even further, she started to play a little with your hair. Surely that was a mess with how much you had trashed on the bed earlier. Yet Layla still thought you were the most beautiful being ever. "You are always so good to me little mouse." " 'ts because I love you so much..." Your words a little slurred. You really were exhausted. She gave your forehead a soft kiss. "I love you even more." " Impossible." Layla just chuckled at that, holding you close, not caring about both your sweaty skin. Your breath evened out and a deep sleep took you in. Layla looked over to her bag, where she knew a small ring was waiting for you. But for now she needed sleep just like you.

#layla x reader #layla el faouly #layla el-faouly #layla el faouly x reader #layla el-faouly x reader #layla el faouly imagine #layla el-faouly imagine #layla el faouly smut #layla el-faouly smut #moon knight #scarlet scarab

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mahvericks · 2 years

Text

For anon + the two people who wanted me to write for Layla again!

Request; id like to request being a linguist and dating layla? maybe she tells you i love you in her native language and u just respond back that you love her too? and she’s all dumbfounded but you go back to your regular task after kissing her cheek or something 👀

Warnings; none, can be set before or after the events of moon knight, kinda short, tried my best to remember what I knew from the arab language, feel free to correct me if I made a mistake! <3

Ana bahebak, ‘umri = I love you, my life

Ana kaman bahebak, nuur 'inayya = I love you too, light of my eyes

____

It was one of those days that felt endless where nothing good would happen when you met Layla- the woman that would turn up to be the love of your life.

Your day had started with you waking up late and had to rush the museum you had been working with to give your finished translations right in time- that day you didn’t even get to eat breakfast or grab a coffee on your way to work.

To make it even better, the museum’s director was for some reason in a terrible mood and clearly upset with everyone. You spent the whole day wishing to get back home as quickly as you could until you met her.

She was visiting the museum and ended up asking you some questions about a newly piece that wasn’t even exposed yet- you learnt that she was the one who found the said piece.

Months went by, after a few dates and random meetings in the museum you worked with, Layla and you started dating- honestly, you were pretty much head over heels for her the first time you guys met but you would have never imagined you would end up dating.

And you wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world, it didn’t take that long after you started dating to move in together- to be honest, while it was because you both wanted to live together it was also more practical for Layla who had to travel for her job as an archeologist.

This week had been going by pretty slowly as Layla had been away for her job, it felt even slower since you spent most of the time in your apartment to translate some newly arrived ancient texts.

Coming back from meeting you had at the museum mostly to give them an update on the translation of the texts you were working on- you were surprised to find the lights on when you stepped inside your apartment.

Shrugging it off, you didn’t think much of it, maybe you just forgot to turn the lights off before leaving- maybe you had left in a rush without paying attention and were still focused on your translations.

That being said, as soon as you saw your girlfriend’s jacket folder over one of the kitchen’s chairs, you knew the explanation- Layla was back home. Grinning from ear to ear, you quickly made your way to the living room and saw her sitting on the couch reading some of your translated works.

“ I didn’t know you could read and translate more than one of the different ancient language?”

Laughing at her comment, you basically threw yourself at her to hug her as tightly as you could- you had missed her so much “ it’s so good to have you back home!”

“ I missed you so much bubs but you’re going to suffocate me if you keep hugging me this tightly.”

Releasing your girlfriend from your too tight embrace, you quickly apologized as you sat more comfortably on the couch, “ you should have told me you were coming back today, I wouldn’t cleaned the apartment and got you something!”

“ I wanted to surprised you- and it’s not like the apartment isn’t clean.”

“ But it’s a mess! I kinda used the living room as my office lately.”

“ I can see that, hence my question when you arrived which you didn’t answer.”

Laughing at Layla’s fake frown, you started to rummage through your papers, looking for the one you didn’t finish yet, “ you know it’s like 80 percent of my job, right? I can translate all fifth stages of ancient egyptian.”

“ I might just have fallen even more in love with you and I didn’t know that was possible.”

“ Wait until you learn about the rest.”

“ Wait, what do you mean?”

It was amusing to see how intrigued Layla was, and while you could just tell her everything as it wasn’t a secret, it was just better to keep some mystery, “ you’ll see in time, babe.”

“ Hey! It’s not fair to drop some hints like that and then keep the mystery for yourself.”

“ It’s not even a secret I swear, let’s just say that on top of being able to translate the ancient egyptian language, I can also speak a bunch of languages.”

“ Now, I want to know everything!”, Layla’s little pout was just adorable to see, “ which languages and can you tell me something in those languages?”

“ I will but not now- I have a deadline tonight for that text and I need to finish it.”

“ I understand, we can order some food when you’re done and we can watch a movie or something all cuddled up under some blankets.”

“ That sounds awesome!”

“ It does because I always have awesome ideas! But for now, I want a hug and I’ll go unpack my suitcase.”

Your girlfriend didn’t have to ask twice for a hug, wrapping your arms around her, you didn’t hold her as tightly as when you saw she was back from her work trip yet the embrace was just as warm.

“ Ana bahebak, ‘umri.”

Smiling at the sentence you had gotten used to hear so much since Layla and you started dating, you would just answer her in english that you loved her too, it just came out naturally when in reality you could simply reply to her in arabic- a language you learnt years ago.

And this time, especially since Layla wanted to hear you speak the languages you knew, you thought it would be the perfect time to surprise her, “ ana kaman bahebak, nuur 'inayya.”

If it was physically possible, Layla’s jaw would have fell on the floor, you had never seen her this shocked- her reaction was definitely worth the wait. Giggling, you gave her a quick peck on the lips before going back into your translations.

“ wh- since when do you speak arabic?”

“ A couple of years I guess- see I’m full of surprise!”

#layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly imagine #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #wlw imagine #request

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years

Text

Kinktober Day 4

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Layla El-Faouly x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Nipple play, biting, grinding

“Is my girl drifting off?”

Her voice is murmuring and sweet. Her hands slide softly over your bare sides.

“Did I tire you out?”

She did, and she knows it, but she does so love to taunt you. You sigh softly, arching your from the mattress, back up into the warmth of her body. Layla presses a tender kiss to your hip, then your belly. Her nails trail up along your sternum. You shiver as you feel her breath brush against the underside of your breast, then—

You gasp as a sharp sensation stabs at your skin. You don’t pick your head up—instead, you push it back against the pillow, arching up into the tug of her teeth.

“Layla,” You whimper. She hums, lapping gently over the throbbing spot gently. She chases it with another kiss, lapping gently across your skin, then sinks her teeth into the top curve of your breast. You groan, toes curling in the sheets. Layla just giggles as you squirm against her, her lips and tongue swiping over the fresh bite. You reach down, running your fingers over the tangle of her curls. She peers at you beneath her lashes, sweeping her tongue over your nipple, then giving it a lush suck. She draws away, blowing cooly over the slick, heated flesh.

You curl your fingers in her hair, trying to guide her one way or another. She grunts in descent, turning and nipping at your forearm. You huff, giving her hair a gentle, retaliatory tug before unwinding your fingers from her hair. Layla pushes herself up over you, spreading your thighs wide, her breasts brushing yours tantalizingly. You hiss as you feel her plump pussy press yours. You’re still tender from her ministrations before; you’re still slick from her teasing, her tongue. You slide your hands up over her arms, and tip your chin up beggingly for a kiss.

Layla smiles sweetly, dipping in close. You can feel her lips ghost over yours, and you squirm up toward her, then—

“Oh—C’mon,” You whine, wriggling about as Layla dips her head toward your chest again. She openly giggles at your irritation. She begins to push her hips gently against yours, giving your breasts a lick, or a lap, or a nibble, or a suck each time. You raise your hands to grip at her hair again, but she catches hold of your hands. She intertwines her fingers with yours, pinning your hands to the bed. You struggle a touch, but it’s only for show. You’ve no intention of trying to get away, to redirect her. You just know that she likes to give you a little more of a push—

And you can feel it in the way her attentions become more firm, more insistent. She begins to make a map of your breasts, to track them, to mark them as she likes. With each roll of her hips, you grind and whine, and dig your nails into the backs of her hands.

She laughs as your moan catches in your throat. She’s made a careful study of you in each of your trysts; she knows that you’re close. You give a feeble little nod, and Layla’s grin grows. She curls more tightly over you, brushing her lips against your neck before she turns her head, laying a sharp, possessive bite into your shoulder. You cum with a shout, hips bounding up against hers as your cunts shift and grind together. Layla lets out an encouraging hum, lapping over the bite. You tip your head back, watching as Layla falls apart over you.

Now, every pass of her body against yours is just a touch too much. The way her hair spills over your shoulder distracts you. Her lips slip and brush and flurry over the tender skin of your neck. Her hips snap and shove. Her hands tighten harshly around yours.

She pushes out a grunt, burying her face in your neck as her body goes tense. You gently untangle your fingers from hers, sliding her hands up over her shoulders. She sighs heavily, turning her head into your neck again and nuzzling.

“...Did you tire yourself out?” You tease, then cackle as Layla lays a retaliatory nip on your neck.

Tag list: @leaveinthelurk ; @missredherring ; @fangirlfreakingout ; @stevie25 ; @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @karie-me-home ; @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly ; @guyfieriii (tried to tag and it won’t let me D: ) ; @moonlightburned ; @amneris21 ; @shiftingsands14 ; @cloudohell ; @blueeyesatnight ; @inlovewithhisblueeyes ; @reaperofmen

#Layla El Faouly x Reader #Layla El Faouly x You #Layla El Faouly/Reader #Layla El Faouly/You #Layla El Faouly fic #Layla El Faouly imagine #Youvebeenlivingfictional Kinktober 2022 #Kinktober 2022

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caspiansalvatore · 2 years

Text

Layla likes stealing Y/n's phone to change Y/n's phone wallpaper into something stupid (like unattractive pictures of Y/n's face or doing something like picking their nose). Layla is doing another routine swipe of Y/n's phone, but doesn't have the heart to change it because this time because Y/n's phone wallpaper is a cute picture of the two of them (like their first date together, or the only picture they have together).

#layla el faouly #layla el faouly imagine #layla moon knight #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x reader

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starryevermore · 1 year

Note

Ooo I have a request - Layla confessing her feelings to reader and being uncharacteristically nervous about it?

something’s up ✧ layla el-faouly

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Ooo I have a request - Layla confessing her feelings to reader and being uncharacteristically nervous about it? - anon

pairing: layla el-faouly x fem!reader

word count: 775

warnings?: layla being nervous, reader being anxious, fluff, not proofread

“Something’s up with Layla,” you said, peering out the window as Layla left to go pick up some food for the three of you.

Marc raised a brow at you. “She seemed fine to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a guy, or whatever stereotypical shit people say when a guy doesn’t pick up on emotional cues,” you said. You shook your head and stepped away from the window. “No, there’s something up. She could barely even look at me during the mission. Do you think I did something to offend her?”

Marc started to shake his head when he paused, his eyes widening.

Panic rose in your chest. “What? Did I do something wrong? Don’t just look at me like that!”

“Um, I have to go—” Marc headed for the door, his hand on the handle. “I, uh, just remembered I wanted to get some beer and, uh, I don’t wanna bother Layla to get it, so, uh, I need to—”

He was out the door before you could even stop him. What the fuck was that? Had you majorly screwed up and now everyone was itching to get the hell away from you? God, why couldn’t anyone just tell you what was going on?

You let out an exasperated sigh before collapsing face first onto the shitty motel bed. Where had everything gone wrong? Things had been working so well before. You, Layla, and Marc made an amazing team. Or, at least, you and Layla made an amazing team. Marc had a tendency to go off on his own, try to shield you and Layla from the more dangerous parts of missions. He had gotten better about it, but, still, old habits die hard, you supposed.

It hurt to think that you had done something to upset Layla. You had grown to care for her. How could you not? She was kind, passionate, so incredibly smart. And was it a crime to notice how beautiful she was? To imagine what it would feel like if she kissed you? To think about what it would be like when she touched you?

Shit. Was that the problem? Had you been so obvious with your feelings? Had you freaked her out? Ugh. That’s it. You’ll have to talk to Layla as soon as she gets back with the food. You didn’t want to ruin this. You didn’t want to lose her friendship over a silly crush.

You raised your head as the door opened. Layla came in, placing the bags of McDonald’s on the wonky desk. She looked around, her curls bouncing. Fuck. Did she have to be so beautiful? How was this fair?

“Where’d Marc go?” she asked.

“Couldn’t get away from me fast enough,” you muttered. “Wasn’t the only one.”

Her brows pinched together. “What do you mean?”

You sat up fully, staring at Layla. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I never meant to do that. That’s literally the last thing I’ve ever wanted. I just think you’re…wonderful. I didn’t mean to develop a crush on you. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But, I did, and I’m sorry. I’ll try to put my feelings behind me and we can start anew—”

“Don’t do that,” Layla said quickly. She sat down next to you. You glanced at her hands, noticing how they shook. Was she okay? Was something else wrong? “I-I don’t want you to put your feelings aside. Fuck, that’s the last thing I want.”

“I don’t understand.”

Layla stared down at her lap. She picked at her cuticles. “This is what I get for taking relationship advice from Marc. He told me to act natural, act casual, then ask you out. Apparently, when I try to act natural around you, I end up acting more like cheesy Disney Channel actors trying to sneak around.”

Your heart thumped. “You…were going to ask me out?”

“I still want to,” she said. “D-Do you want to ditch the greasy meal I brought, and go to a real restaurant or something?”

Your mouth quirked up into a smile. “That would be nice. I saw this nice little Italian place just around the block? If that’s alright?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Layla reached out her hand, then paused and slowly started to pull away. You were quick to take her hand, interlacing your fingers with hers. Layla beamed, her eyes crinkling out at the corners. Hand in hand, the two of you left the motel, ready to walk to the restaurant when you ran into a familiar face.

“See!” Marc said. “I told you to just listen to me!”

“…thanks for the advice,” Layla said.

#layla el faouly imagine #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x fem!reader #layla el faouly x female reader #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x y/n #layla el faouly fanfiction #layla el faouly fan fiction #layla el faouly fanfic #layla el faouly fan fic #layla el faouly fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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imagineyourworld · 2 years

Text

Of Caves and Crushes

Layla El-Faouly x Genderneutral!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, maybe a tiny bit angst, injury (not graphic)

Summary: (Request) Hi there! 😄 I was wondering if you could please write a reader x layla el faouly (((the reader is like Matt Murdock and wears glasses like him as well and also has his special senses. But the difference is that he is not blind but he just likes wearing sunglasses 😂😅.But apart from those, he also has another super power from his own which is super strength. ))) where the reader, layla and Marc/Steven are in Egypt and get attacked by arthur and his gang and layla almost gets killed, but the reader saves her but end up getting a bit hurt. Layla starts panicking that the reader got hurt but the reader reassures her that they are okay but layla doesn't seem to calm down. so the reader brings her into a strong passionate kiss. They finish their kiss when Marc or Steven says something in the background 😂😅Sorry if it's a bit confusing, and thank you very much! 😊😊

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"My god, this is amazing! Look at that you guys!" You couldn't help but smile at Steven's antics. As much as you wanted to dislike him, you couldn't, especially not when he got excited over every little bit of Egyptian culture, even the huge cluster of rocks (one of at least ten you had seen in the last hour), that he swore was mentioned in some myth or other. A quick glance at Layla told you that she was just as amused by him. But was there something else in her eyes? Adoration? Love maybe? You tried your best to ignore it, but that voice inside your head kept telling you that it wasn't just possible that Layla might be falling for Steven, it was actually more than likely. After all, he looked just like the man she once loved enough to marry. Marc Spector. You had never met him, only heard the stories Layla told of him, especially the one where she woke up one night and he was just gone. It gave you quite conflicted feelings about Steven, who you knew was not to blame for anything Layla had been through, and who you knew you couldn't blame Layla if she had feelings for, but it was hard to just stand there and watch the two of them interact. In the time you had been preoccupied with your thoughts and not paid attention to Steven, he had continued to walk towards a small bush in the middle of the desert. "What on earth does he think he's doing?" Layla just shook her head at your question, causing the sun to catch in her dark eyes and make them shine like ember. It was a colour you could drown in, and happily would given the opportunity. "I have no idea. But we need to hurry, let me get him." With those words she was off, running after Steven. Only a short while later she reached him and started talking to him, a conversation you wished you could just tune out but your ears wouldn't listen. In times like these you cursed your senses. They were at least a hundred meters away, no one else would be able to hear them, and yet there you stood, listening to every word coming out of their mouths. Hearing how Steven began to tell Layla some old tale, a story you knew for a fact Layla knew by heart, since she had once told it to you, on a cool night in the desert while gazing at the stars and dreaming of a better future. "Steven, I'd love to hear more about that some other time, but we really need to hurry. You need to focus." They were to far for even you to see their faces, but you could have sworn that the smile on Steven's lips vanished, even if just for a second. "Yeah, you're right, you're right. I'm sorry, love." That right there may have hurt even more than any other interaction between the two of them you had witnessed. How easily the pet name crossed Steven's lips, how you longed to call Layla "love" your self, because that's what she was, your love. Or "sweetheart" because there was no one else with a heart as pure as hers. "Honey", not only because of the way her skin would glow and look like the sweet substance under the setting sun, but because she was as sweet as honey. "Baby", "darling", "mine". Especially the last one was one you'd like to call her, even if just once. "I'm sorry for getting distracted, (Y/N)," Steven said as soon as he and Layla stood in front of you again. But just as you couldn't dislike him, you couldn't exactly be mad at him either. Yes, it was important that you reached Ammit's tomb before Harrow and his people did, but you knew that, much like yourself, Steven had been fascinated by Egypt all his life and being here right now must be a dream come true. "It's fine, let's just go." And on you went. Walking through the desert wasn't fun. It was hot and dry and you could have sworn that you had sand in places were sand should never be, and yet you went on and on and on. Until nightfall that is, when Layla found a somewhat secluded cave and, after making sure it was safe and had another exit in case of emergency, the three of you huddled inside. "Wouldn't it actually be a lot more comfortable to travel at night? It's quite a lot cooler," Steven asked as the three of you worked on putting up the tent. "It's also a lot more dangerous. No matter how hot it may be during the day, the temperatures at night are freezing,” Layla told him. ”Plus there are a lot more dangerous animals hunting at night, and trust me, you don’t want to be face to face with any of them.” “Also we’d need light and even lighting a match at night could lead Harrow’s men straight to us at,” you added. Layla looked at you, a small smile on her face. A smile that you would love to kiss. A small sigh left your lips. How was it possible that Layla looked even more beautiful in this dark cave, exhausted, sweaty, and probably also at least a little bit scared, with only the moon and stars from outside the cave letting you see her face. ”Why don’t you guys get some sleep, I’ll take the first watch,” she suddenly suggested, breaking the silence. You sat down in front of the finally standing tent and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. ”Are you sure? You already took the first watch last night.” She just nodded, and after a moment sat down next to you and laid a hand on your arm. ”I’m sure. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours for your watch.” She let go of your arm, instantly leaving you wanting more, wanting to feel her touch again, even if skin to skin contact was made impossible by your long sleeves. ”Wake me if there’s any trouble,” you told her before disappearing into the tent, where Steven was already fast asleep. Or rather passed out due to sheer exhaustion, something you did as well as soon as your body was in a horizontal position.

It wasn’t Layla’s scream that woke you, that only came a second later. Instead it had been a rumbling sound, almost like the sound of pushing heavy furniture around on a wooden floor. Then there was the scream. ”(Y/N)! Steven! Get up! We need to leave, they’re closing the entrance.” It took less than a second for you to jump up and push the flap in front of the tent’s entrance away, not due to Layla’s words but rather the panic in her voice. ”Get everything you need and get out of here, I’ll buy us some time,” you said, already shoving a rucksack at Steven, who had just appeared from within the tent. While he simply took the items you handed him with a frown on his face, Layla shook her head. ”What are you talking about? I won’t leave you here. I won’t!” The rumbling was getting louder and louder and a quick glance to the opening of the cave told you that somehow you enemies had managed to push a heavy rock almost all the way in front of it. You only had a few seconds. ”Layla, you need to leave now. Take the back exit, that’s your best chance, I’ll distract them.” Tears were now welling up in her beautiful brown eyes, even her lip began to quiver. ”I won’t leave you, please don’t make me leave you.” You put a hand on each of her shoulders, and though you don’t know how you did it, you stood your ground, you stayed strong even while Layla was close to a break down and Steven might have been having a minor panic attack in the back. ”Please, Layla, please. You need to go. I’ll find you, you know I always do, but I can’t do anything if I spend all my time worrying about you. I just need you to be safe, everything else comes second.” Your grip on her shoulders tightened, and sometime during your little speech the two of you had gotten closer. Figuring that you had nothing to lose you laid your forehead against hers. ”Layla, my Layla. Go.” And maybe that was all it took, or maybe it was the fact that the last bit of light from outside had almost disappeared behind the rock, but Layla stepped away from you, grabbed her back and Steven’s arm and hurried towards the other end of the cave. Only once you heard their footsteps disappearing did you finally turn your attention to the men and women pushing the giant rock in front of the cave. A small grin found its way to your lips. You almost felt sorry for those people who had no idea what was coming for them, or rather who. You stepped in front of the cave’s entrance, most of which was now covered by the rock. Only a little sliver was still there for you to put your hand in and simply hold it there. You didn’t push the rock back again, not yet at least, after all you wanted to distract them, to make sure Layla and Steven would get away, and that meant buying them time. ”What are you doing? Keep pushing!” The loud yelling and confused voices from outside almost made you laugh, until one of them walked around the entrance and saw what was stopping the rock from moving further. ”There’s a hand there, someone’s stopping it.” ”That can’t be, none of them have the power.” You shook your head in delight. It was always fun to hear your opponents’ confusion before they actually figured out it was you screwing up their plan, especially when they thought you couldn’t hear them. It only took a little push and the rock moving just a few centimetres for their confusion to turn into panic, which only rose until you managed to push the rock far enough to squeeze through the entrance and stand in front of them. ”Locking people in caves isn’t very nice, you know.” There was a moment of stunned silence, nothing more than a few seconds, which you used to push the rock into your enemies, knocking most of them to the ground and hopefully more than a few unconscious. ”What are you waiting for? Get them!” You could feel the shift in the air as they reached for their guns, noticed the familiar smell of weapons freiring just a moment before they released the bullets, giving you just enough time to duck behind the rock and cloud yourself in darkness. ”It worked once, it might work again,” you mumbled, and just a second later you gave the rock another hard shove, rolling it right on top of your enemies and trapping their legs between the heavy rock and the sandy desert ground. ”You know, it really is a pity, I was hoping for an actual fight.” You went around your opponents, kicking their guns out of their hands to make sure they wouldn’t try to shoot you again. ”Layla, Steven, you can come out now. Help me tie these guys up.” Just a second later you heard footsteps and the smell of Layla’s sweet shampoo, that somehow still clung to her hair, invaded your nostrils. ”It really was a lot easier than expe-” Pain. All you could feel was pain. Gone were all thoughts of victory, of having managed to save Layla. You looked around, though your vision was beginning to fade to black, and spotted a woman you could have sworn was unconscious just a second ago with a gun in her hand. It must have been adrenaline, because there was simply no other reasonably explanation for how you managed to reach for a nearby gun while falling to your knees, one hand pressed to the wound on your shoulder, the other holding the gun as steady as you could. Four shots. It would have only taken two at the most, but you not only wanted to be sure, but you wanted revenge. One to each shoulder, one to each knee. The woman fell to the ground instantly. She would live, you had made sure of that, but she’d spend the rest of her life regretting having shot you. Finally Layla and Steven reached you, her worried voice drowning all other sounds, even the rapid beating of your heart. ”I’m fine. It’s fine. Just...”

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but by the time you opened your eyes the sun was beginning to rise. Oh, and you were no longer anywhere near the cave. Instead you were in the backseat of some car, your head in Layla’s lap and Steven at the wheel. ”I... What happened?” You tried to sit up, and with Layla’s help you managed, though it took a lot more effort than you would ever admit. ”What happened? You could have died, that’s what happened! (Y/N), you risked your life, you almost lost your life. I’m still not convinced that you’re actually alright. I had to take some old scarf to stop the bleeding, who knows what bacteria were on there, you might as well have blood poisoning now.” She looked at you, her pupils blown and her cheeks read. A moment of silence before she continued, rambling even faster than before. ”What if that’s it? What if you saved us and survived getting shot and I gave you blood poisoning? What if I killed you? Oh god, (Y/N), I may have just killed you! I-” You couldn’t take it anymore. Worry? Panic? Yelling? All of those were fine with you, but Layla blaming herself? Not on your watch. So you did the only thing you could think of, something you were sure you would never have done had the blood loss not made you slightly delirious. You kissed her. You leaned over, crossing the small distance between you, and pressed your lips against hers in a gentle kiss. You heard Layla’s heart stop for just a moment before it picked up speed again. At the same time her hands found their way to your waist, carefully avoiding your bandaged shoulder, to pull you closer. You smiled against her lips. The kiss didn’t last long. Layla pulled away first, but rested her forehead against yours, staying as close to you as possible. ”Are you sure? Is this what you want? This isn’t just the blood loss talking?” Instead of answering her you pecked her lips again. ”I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. Though if I was thinking straight and not just lost a liter of blood I probably wouldn’t have had the courage.” A smile spread on Layla’s lips. Those beautiful lips, the same lips that you had just kissed after months of dreaming about it. ”I must admit, I’m glad. But next time you don’t have to get shot to kiss me.” You didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as Layla stopped talking your hands found their way to her head to pull her closer again, to feel her lips against yours again. This time there was no hesitation. Layla scooted closer to you, her hands found their way under your shirt and onto your skin, a touch that set you on fire. While you ran your hands through her hair, pulling at the strands ever so slightly until she let out a soft moan, finally giving you the chance to invade her mouth with your tongue. The field of reeds, or any other kind of afterlife, had nothing on the way Layla’s hands felt on your hips, her tongue against yours, her hair tickling your forehead. Until a familiar voice broke the spell. ”I’m happy for you and all that, I really am, but could someone please tell me where I’m supposed to drive. I dunno if you noticed but everything kinda looks the same here and I’m sure we’ve been going around in circles for the past couple of minutes.” You turned away from Layla to look at Steven for a moment. Your eyes met in the rear-view mirror while Layla went through her bag for her GPS device. ”I’m glad you’re alright, (Y/N).” Having found the device Layla turned her attention back to you, one of her hands reaching for yours while the other toyed with the device. ”Continue for another few kilometres, Steven, I’ll tell you when to turn,” she told the man in the front, which he accepted with a simple “aye, aye, Captain”. ”I think we have a lot to talk about once we’re alone,” Layla said, turning to you. ”And even more to do,” you added with a wink.

#layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x y/n #layla el faouly imagine #layla el faouly #Moon Knight

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peterparkersnose · 2 years

Text

Chapstick

Layla El-Faouly x gn!reader

word count: 326

warnings: none! just fluff. morning piece. no moonknight spoilers!

a/n this is my first gn story! i am so excited. i hope you guys like it, its kind of short but its sweet.

summary Layla and Y/N spend a morning together

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 1 min 11 seconds

Maybe putting chapstick on in the middle of the night when you woke up to go to the bathroom was a bad idea. Your lips were still sticky, moist with the humid air. Layla turned in bed, and so did the fan oscillating in the corner. Her beautiful brown hair got stuck in your lips, waking you out of your deep slumber.

A quick pfft from you and the pulling of her hair was enough to wake Layla up. “Y/N?” she asked, turning over with a confused look. “Were you just eating my hair?” she questioned, a slight confused smile emerged on her face.

“No- the fan blew your hair, I have chapstick on-” “Ohh okay. I get it now.” she sighed, scooting back into your embrace. “What time is it?” you asked her. Layla scooted to the edge of the bed and looked at the alarm clock.

“Fifteen minutes before the alarm goes off,”

She moved back into her position, her hair attacking you once again. You attempted to move it out of the way.

“Is it really that bad?” she asked you, turning over in bed. “No, it is just deciding to disturb my personal space this morning,” you smirked. “You think I should cut it?” Layla asked, grabbing it with her hand and throwing her hair behind her shoulder.

“No, I love your hair.” you said, shocked. “Hmm,” Layla hummed. “What else do you love about me?” she asked.

You chuckled a bit. “Everything.” “I need specifics,”

You studied her face intently. “Your passion.” you began. “Your eyes, your freckles, your nose, my god I love your nose.” you said, giving her a tiny boop on the face. “Seriously Layla, I love everything about you. I would be a fool not to.” you said, holding her closer in your embrace.

Layla extended her neck and gave you a tiny kiss. After she pulled away, she rubbed her lips together.

“Was that chapstick cherry?”

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0

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maudeeloise · 2 years

Note

Can I Pls Have Fluff With Layla And Fem Reader 🥺

The Accident || l.e.f

Pairing : Layla El - Faouly x fem!reader

Warning : blood / wound

A/N : It took me a while to find the idea, but while i was scrolling through the gif, i found this one, so i decided to write something about layla and y/n’s first meeting.

You remembered exactly how you first met a particular woman named Layla. It was a busy day in London and just like every morning, you would visit the same flower shop near your flat and bought a bouquet of flower. It was your boss’ request, but even after a few years of working with them, you still don’t know the reason why they asked you to buy it every day.

However one morning, it was different. You were already late for work and you were running down the streets. You couldn’t careless about the signs on the street, let alone the people you had bumped on the way.

Whilst crossing the street, you were almost hit by a motorcycle. A high pitch scream echoed through the streets before your body had hit the road with a loud thumb. You winced at the pain as you held your bleeding arm.

“Are you alright?” A woman’s voice asked, but you were too focus on the pain to care to see who it was or what the person looked like.

You could feel her kneeling beside you. Her hands grabbed your body before helping you move to the sidewalk. You winced once more before your eyelids fluttered open and saw a woman dragging her motorcycle beside you.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered.

Her head turned to face you. Her face fell once her eyes landed on your arm. “You’re bleeding.”

“I know.” You looked over at the wound on your arm.

She rushed to kneel beside you. Her eyes looked straight at yours for reasurance before gently grabbing your wounded arm. “We should go to the nearest hospital before it gets worse.”

“No, please.” You shook your head. “I’ll be alright.”

“It doesn’t look like it will be fine soon enough.” She said. “Please, let me help.”

You shook your head. “I have a job and I’m already late.”

“I’m sure your boss will understand.” She looked at you to convince you. As your eyes met her brown ones, something inside you told you to give in. You used to be so stubborn, but something was different about the woman that you were sure that you could trust her.

“How do we get to the hospital?” You asked as your eyes looked around for some answer.

Her lips pressed into a thin line before answering hesitantly, “The motorcycle.”

Your eyes widened in confusion. “You mean the motorbike that almost killed me?”

“Yes.” She answered. Her fingers tightened around your body before helping you stand up and brought you towards the vehicle.

Once you were sat on the motorbike, she helped you put on the helmet while you were holding your arm. You sent her a smile as she walked and sat in front of you — between you and the front part of the vehicle.

“Hold on tight.” She warned.

“But my arm-“

“Fine, I’ll go slow.” She paused, starting the vehicle. “I’m Layla.”

“Y/N.” You said. Layla nodded in response. “Before we go, can I ask for a favor?”

“What is it?” Layla raised an eyebrow as she tried to face you over her shoulder.

“My boss wants me to buy a bouquet of flower. There’s a flower store around here and the place where I work at isn’t far from here too. So, if there’s a chance that-“

“Just give me the address once we’re at the hospital.” Layla said. “I don’t want to risk you losing your blood on my vehicle.”

A smile broke on your future. “Thank you.”

#layla el faouly x reader #layla x reader #layla el faouly #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly imagine #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel x female reader #marvel imagine #marvel

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fluffyprettykitty · 2 years

Note

congrats on 1800 🫶🫶 can i get layla with rockstar au where maybe reader is her bandmate or a part of her crew? it’s up to you! and nsfw with mirror sex and love bites please?

Pairing: rockstar! Layla El Faouly x band member! female reader

Word Count: 300 words

Outline: Layla has the perfect solution for pre-show nerves.

Warnings: mirror sex, fingering, biting, slight dom!layla.

Author’s Note: I really liked your idea! I'm not too well versed in aus but I hope you like it regardless!

Main Masterlist ・❥・Layla El Faouly Masterlist

NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

"Look at you, baby, look inside the mirror, look how gorgeous you are."

Layla breathes against your ear, her hot breath tingling you as you are sitting on her lap legs open in front of the floor-length wall mirror in the backroom of the concert hall. The show will be starting in a couple of minutes but Layla knew the perfect solution for your nervousness and anxiety before each show. She was much more seasoned than you and you were still just a rookie. The replacement of last year's bass.

"You look so hot, like the perfect little fucking doll." She is holding both of your breasts in her hands squeezing them, weighing them, and toying with them as if they are just hers. She pulls your nipples and then circles your nipples with her delicate black polished ring-clad fingers.

"Tell me what you want. I wanna hear you beg."

"More...more ...just anything. Please, it hurts."

"Want me to touch your pretty pussy and have you scream my name, let everyone know you are all mine?"

You gulp, suddenly a thought of Layla fucking you right in the middle of the stage shining bright inside your head. Oh, god, how you wish you could do that...

"Yes, please, baby, take me, I'm yours."

Layla is leaving a soft trail of kisses down your neck, before sinking her teeth, sucking the skin to leave a bruise deep enough for any audience member to see. Her fingers disappear inside your pussy and your moans are getting loud while her other hand is slapping your left breast. You look inside the mirror, and you see the image of two goddesses.

You were hers, now and forever and it was time for everyone to know.

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#selenewrites #selene answers prompts #1.8 wlw sleepover #layla x reader #layla el faouly x reader #layla moon knight #layla el faouly #layla el faouly imagine #layla el faouly smut #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly fanfiction

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venusianelf · 2 years

Text

Uncertainty

Pairing: Layla El-Faouly x Reader

Genre: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Fluff

Summary: After Marc disappears Layla moves in with you, deepening your feelings for her. When Marc suddenly comes back you’re left unsure of where you fall with Layla.

Warnings: Reader has anxious thoughts, Reader is gender-neutral, Divorce, A couple uses of Y/N, Reader is a bit jealous and insecure

Word Count: ~2,100

A/N: After the season finale of Moon Knight I just had to write for Layla <3 I hope you enjoy the fic!

Layla and you had been friends for years now but you hadn’t expected her to show up at your door at two am with no warning. Well, you can’t say it was entirely out of the normal, she did occasionally show up to drag you off to random parts of the world. But as you opened your door you were surprised by the tears rolling down her cheeks. Quickly ushering her in and making her some tea you both sat on your couch.

“Layla, what’s wrong?” You asked as you rested one of your hands on her shoulder and stared at her in concern. “Marc, he just- He left me some papers and disappeared,” She choked out through sobs as you frowned. “What papers?” You queried as she looked down at her lap before shutting her eyes. “Divorce papers,” She responded almost too quietly to hear. Immediately you felt rage course through your veins before calming yourself so you could comfort her. “I’m so sorry. He must be stupid if he thinks that’s any way to treat you,” You huffed as you drew circles on her back.

As her sobs picked up, you brought her into a hug and held her tight as she cried. While you held her you let your conflicted emotions stir, you had always had a crush on Layla since you two met but you respected her and Marc’s relationship. Now he had gone and ended it without warning and you couldn’t conceive of why he would possibly leave such a wonderful woman like her. The more you thought about it the more that punching him in the face seemed like a good option.

Over the next few months, Layla moved in with you as she didn’t want to stay in the house she had shared with Marc. She slowly seemed to be moving on but she still searched for where the hell he had run off to. Every time she began her explanation to you about her new information you selfishly hoped she wouldn’t find him. You had come to enjoy the little moments with her.

You thought the way she looked when she was focused on her research was adorable, or how she always left extra breakfast for you in the fridge since she would wake up before you. You knew how she liked her coffee and what her favorite songs were, things you weren’t sure Marc even paid attention to. One thing you wish you could ignore though was how whenever she said his name while there was anger and despair in the way she said it, there was also longing behind it.

And then she found him. Marc had turned his phone back on and picked up her call one night. He apparently had a weird accent but she was able to trace where he was from the call. She had quickly packed and kissed you goodbye on the cheek before disappearing. You sat on your bed with a pint of ice cream as you sadly watched television. As you watched the romance play out in the show you thought about how he might react to seeing her.

Many scenarios ran through your head as you felt yourself go cold at the thought of them getting back together. Of course, the divorce was never finalized since Marc didn’t sign the papers which meant that nothing was really stopping them from picking up where they left off. What would happen to your living situation? Would she move back in with him and continue your friendship like nothing happened? Well technically nothing had happened between you two but in the time she had been here your feelings for her had grown exponentially.

You had even started to notice how she had started looking at you differently, and how her touches seemed to linger a little longer. It was probably your wishful thinking but you had really thought that she might’ve liked you back. But now Marc was back. Getting angry you chucked your spoon across the room as you broke out into a sob. You felt so stupid. Of course, she loved her husband, why would she even consider you? Eventually, you cried yourself to sleep.

When you woke you saw you had a voicemail from Layla. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes you opened your phone to listen to it. “Hey, I found him. He claims his name is Steven and he works at a gift shop?” She laughed with no humor. “I don’t know if this is how desperate he is for me to go away or what. But he found the scarab I told you about,” She sighed as you began chewing on your lip as you listened. “I’m gonna try to get to the bottom of this so I may not be home for a bit but I promise I’ll come by when I can. Anyways, call me back,” She explained as you heard the voicemail end.

Shoving your head in your hands you sighed. At least he hadn’t tried to get back together with her but at the same time, you weren’t overly fond of the idea of her spending more time away from home. Instead of moping about it, you decided to get up and start your routine. As you finished up breakfast you decided now was about as good of a time to call her back as any.

Dialing her number you listened to it ring out a couple of times before she picked up. “Hey, Y/N, glad I caught you,” She greeted as you smiled. “Hi, Layla, and yeah me too. I saw your voicemail, sounds like things are going as per usual over there,” You laughed as she chuckled with you. “Yeah, things are crazy as ever,” She agreed as you two settled into a comfortable silence. “So is he still using a fake name?” You asked as she sighed. “Sort of? Turns out Steven isn’t a fake name. He and Marc exist in the same body? I don’t know, it’s kind of confusing,” She explained as you nodded even though she couldn’t see it. “I think I’ve heard of something like that before, Dissociative Identity Disorder I think?” You replied as she hummed in response. “Huh, I’ll have to look into it. Anyways I think I should be dropping by the house for a night or two before I head to Cairo,” She said as you scrunched your face up in confusion.

“Cairo?” You asked. “Yeah, Marc ended up disappearing off to Cairo and I need to pick up a few things before I follow him,” She replied as you frowned from hearing his name. “Okay well, hopefully, you won’t be so busy that we can’t watch a movie together,” You added as she hummed. “Of course, I can definitely make time for you,” She responded as you lit up. “Okay, great!” You exclaimed as she laughed. “You always get so happy over movie night, it’s cute. Anyways I need to get going, I’ll call you later, okay?” She asked as you flushed a little. “Yeah, keep me up to date!” You replied. “Will do,” She said before hanging up the call.

Shortly after she had gotten home. You hadn’t seen much of her since she got back as she spent most of it in her room, but as the sun went down you headed up to her room. Knocking on her door, you watched as she opened it and smiled at you, “Yeah?” “Movie night time?” You asked as she nodded. “Of course, I’ll be there in a minute. You get the snacks and movie ready,” She replied as you beamed back at her. “Okay!”

You were snuggled up in a blanket on the couch when she sat next to you. “Mind sharing?” She asked as she pointed at the blanket before you shook your head. She scooched herself closer to you before pulling the blanket over her too. As the movie began you leaned your head on her shoulder and took in her scent. It had been a while since you had smelled her signature perfume. Sighing into her you felt her gently put her arm around you as you two continued the movie.

As the credits rolled you two began chatting about the movie before you realized that your gaze kept dropping to her lips before you would quickly look back up. This continued a few times until you both settled into a comfortable silence as you felt tension hang in the air. When you turned your gaze back to her eyes you noticed how her pupils were dilated and she definitely wasn’t looking at your eyes. Feeling your confidence grow you placed one of your hands on her cheek as she leaned into it.

You moved yourself to straddle her as she looked up at you with an adoring gaze. Leaning in you barely brushed your lips against hers before pulling back with a questioning look. She rolled her eyes as one of her hands snaked up to your neck and pulled you back into her. As your lips met the kiss started out tentative before she frenziedly deepened the kiss. She snaked her hand into your hair and you felt her other hand rest on your waist. As you continued to make out she brought her hand up under your shirt as she squeezed her grip on you.

Parting for air you rested your forehead against hers as you both panted before she began placing kisses on your jaw. She continued by trailing them down your throat before sucking and biting gently to leave a mark. Once satisfied she kissed you again and again until you both got tired and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When you woke up, you reached for her warmth before realizing she wasn’t there. You looked around to see if she was in the kitchen but found nothing. Looking at your phone you found a text from her, “Hey, sorry for leaving so suddenly but my flight was pretty early. I should be back home in about a week.” You sighed before your anxieties kicked in. What if she left early because she regretted what happened last night? What if that was just a one-time thing? Shaking yourself out of it you tried to go about your day without thinking about it.

You did not succeed. As the week continued you felt yourself getting more and more anxious up until the night she was supposed to get back. She had texted you earlier to say she would be home by seven but when you glanced at the clock it read 9:14 pm. Turning to the movie you had on you tried to focus on that to pass the time but your thoughts kept turning to worse case scenarios.

That is until you heard someone unlocking the front door. When you turned you saw Layla carrying her luggage through the doorway. “I’m back! I tried to text you that my flight got delayed but the reception in the airport was shit. Anyways-” She started explaining before you cut her off with a crushing hug. “Hey there,” She chuckled as she returned your hug and you buried your head into her chest. “I’m so glad you’re back,” You exclaimed as she rubbed your back. “Miss me, huh?” She teased as you pulled back and averted your gaze. “Something like that,” You laughed nervously before you felt her hand tilt your chin towards her.

“Were you worried? You know that I can handle myself,” She said with concern as you met her gaze. “It’s not that,” You replied as she tilted her head urging you to continue. “I don’t know, I just thought maybe you left so quickly because you didn’t mean to kiss me and you regretted it, and maybe you wanted to be with Marc. I mean he is your husband,” You rambled before she cut you off. “Ex-husband,” She said seriously as you widened your eyes in surprise. “You mean?” You asked as she nodded. “Once we finished up our mission I got him to sign the papers. We agreed to stay friends but I realized in his time away that someone else was more deserving of my time and love,” She explained as her gaze turned soft.

“Y/n, I love you, and I was a fool for not realizing it earlier,” She continued as your heart melted and her hand slid up to your cheek. “I love you too Layla,” You beamed as she smiled back at you before pulling you in and giving you an emotionally charged kiss. As you parted you touched your lips and smiled at her before she gave you a forehead kiss. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, do you mind helping me with my bags?” She asked as you suddenly remembered where you were. “Right! Yeah, I can help!” You exclaimed as she chuckled lovingly at you.

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