#layla el faouly x you

[pimosworld]

Care to join?

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

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

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

Dialogue prompt- “Can I kiss you?”

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

WC-3.8k

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

Not beta read

***

    Wednesday 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Whatever you want to do we will do…no

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

  Nice job hermaño, I knew you could do it.

  ***

Friday 

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

  It’s just dinner, relax

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  This is so not fair

  Callate pendejo 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “There’s always next time.”

  Next time 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

Happy pride 🏳️‍🌈

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[refiwrites]

no thoughts; head empty, just her.

#may calamawy #layla el faouly #layla el faouly imagines #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight spoilers #moon knight episode 6 #moon knight gifs #moon knight imagines #layla el faouly gifs #may calamawy gifs #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly fics #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #oscar isaac #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #marc spector gifs #steven grant gifs #steven grant imagines #marc spector imagines #oscar isaac gifs #may calamawy edits

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Waters

Summary: Layla knows your body well, almost too well, and she knows how to put on a show.

Pairing: Layla El-Faouly x f!Reader x Marc Spector

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: polyamory, smut (18+ only please), wlw, fingering, literally no plot here besties, (I would love to write for this pairing more)

A/N: Your honour my bi ass loves these two so fucking much. Also this is me trying to hone my smut writing skills, so please bear with me as I improve. Written to celebrate one year of Moon Knight!

I don't own photos or characters, divider from @firefly-graphics

Layla is making the sweetest sounds from underneath you, touching you in ways that drive you mad. 

Your hands are in her hair, as they have been thousands of times before. It’s the thousands of times that you hope will come that make your head dizzy. 

You’ve always been a little obsessed with her hair. 

It had been one of the first things you’d noticed about her. 

Her curls had been blowing in the wind, moving in a way that made you think they had a mind of their own. She had walked into the cafe, caught your eyes briefly and that had been the start of your infatuation with her. 

From the very beginning, you had wanted to touch them, to curl your fingers around them and watch them bounce into place. 

Now that you get the chance to touch, to curl, and do much more you snatch at it with greedy hands, tugging her hair when her head is buried between your thighs, when her mouth is against yours, stroking it softly when you’re both spent and sweaty and in each other’s arms. 

In a breath, you’re kissing her again, pushing your hips down into hers and getting her to open her mouth for your tongue. She whimpers as if she’s the one that turns into putty in your hands when the two of you are like this; you’re more than certain that if you stood up now, your legs would give out underneath you. 

Falling in love with the rest of her, had been just as simple, just as right as the way she had come over and sat down at your table and started to talk with you, offering to buy you a muffin and just as easy as the way the conversation had bled into dinner and ended the night with her lips against yours. 

Layla was beautiful in ways you were still learning about. Her voice, with the honeyed accent laced into it, the curve of her eyebrows, the slope of her shoulders and her golden skin with the freckles littered over her chest. Everyday you woke up and found something new about her that you’d obsess over. 

She had permeated into your system like a hazy cloud, an emulsion. An addiction you never wanted to quit because though it did take you apart, it also put you back together in the best of ways. 

You feel her reach under your shirt, to trace the outline of your spine and she hums happily. She comes to cup at your breast, moving her hand in ways that’s oddly reminiscent of the waves of the ocean. 

It’s just the way you liked it and the dynamic has started to show its true colours. 

In truth, Layla could get you to do close to anything with just a flick of her head. She held a shocking amount of power over you in her hands. 

Her other hand comes to mirror her movements, and you’re sure now that you’re dripping for her, lust wet between your thighs. Your soul is trembling with need but you don’t know for what, all you know is the rapidly growing desire for Layla to touch you more because if she doesn’t you’ll soon enough go out of your mind. 

As if she can hear your thoughts, her fingers start to trail down your stomach, a tantalising trail that both satiates and lights up your desire from the inside. 

“Layla…” your voice is drowning in desperation. 

“Baby…” even if she aims to imitate you, it’s an imitation. She has a remarkable control over herself during times like these, one you can only dream of having during your most clear-headed moments. 

The tips of her fingers are cool as they trace the line of your underwear, teasing you towards an edge she could send you hurdling over in minutes if she wanted to. 

But where would be the fun in that? 

Half of Layla’s pleasure comes from driving you out of your mind with lust and want. She makes a practice of laying you out underneath her and pressing your buttons to see how long it will take you to snap. To see how long she can practise her discipline and when she’ll snap too and make you see stars ten times over. 

She’ll kiss you and tease you until you're dripping down your thighs and into the bed below you but then she’ll always make up for it by fucking you good and solid afterwards. 

Layla had been the one to teach you what good sex meant, who lit up nerves in your body you’d doubted the existence of. 

With her, you’ve never felt more alive. 

You’re drawn out of your heady thoughts, already in anticipation of what’s to come after she’s had her fun with you, by the sound of your name dressed up in her voice. You realise too late that she’s asked you a question. 

Her hand comes to rest on the side of your neck, and she leans in, starting to press opiate-like kisses from the soft bit of skin behind your ear, moving down your neck, “Hm, sweetheart? What do you want?” 

“Touch me,” it’s a pathetic little whimper. Though you know what you want, mustering up the words to say it takes a herculean effort. As your relationship bloomed, Layla became an expert in making you scream. She knows your body better than you and makes it insanely difficult to speak. 

“Where?” her hand reaches back and grabs your ass possessively. You whimper and thrust forward, hunting for friction. She tsks when you don’t answer, pulling back and raising an eyebrow in warning. 

Instead of speaking, you show. Her other hand in yours, you guide her to your pussy, bring her fingers to your clit so she can get an idea of what you want and how wet she’s made you. 

Her eyes widen. 

If you were with another shame would be quick to lick up your back, have you pulling away and apologising. Layla had been quick to train you out of it. Falling into bed together is a delicate dance of give and take. She’s shown how much you want her and she shows how much she likes it in turn. 

But this time she’s not expected this much and this quickly. 

She starts to say your name when you cut her off, pressing her fingers forward against your core, making you moan out loud. With your free hand, you come to cup her breast, the comforting weight of it sitting heavily in your palm. 

You start to caress in the ways she likes it, both hands moving in tandem to bring the both of you pleasure. Her eyes flutter closed and flutter open just as quickly when you pinch her nipple, a gasp running out of her that makes another wave of arousal flood from your legs. 

The friction on your cunt having quickly gone from satisfying to the end of adequate, you cry out, at a wit’s end, “Layla, please.” There’s a fuzz of hunger around your mind. Words have evaded you, your lust for her so deep and driving that you ache for a release in your bone marrow. 

The press of her skin against yours and the heat of her gaze as she comes to recognise how little you’ll be able to manage to hold on for her is a salve, it could bring tears to your eyes. 

She helps you strip off your shirt, and almost immediately her hands are in your underwear.

She teases only slightly, enough to wet her fingers and drive you just a little further up the wall. Though it doesn’t need it, she runs her hand through your folds to get it wet, and with an insistent press of her thumb against your clit, she slips two fingers inside you. 

It’s the wash of the cool ocean on a hot day and the suffocating smoke from a wood fire at the same time. It makes you cry out and Layla shushes you, “It’s ok, honey, it’s just one to take the edge off.”

She starts at a drunken pace, hitting the right areas at the right times. Though she may tease you to tears, when she does decide that she’s done, she gives you pleasure in spades. 

At the bottom of it all, she lives to spoil you. 

You’ve only been with one other partner that was like that, who saw your pleasure as their own. 

Your hands grapple around her neck and you bring her lips to you, opening your mouth and asking for what you want. As her fingers pull out of you, a delicious friction against your walls, a third one is slipped in the moment her tongue meets yours and makes your synapses tie themselves together. The sounds you’re letting out are unfamiliar to your own ears. 

With quick, expert movements she hurdles you towards the edge, swallowing your moans as if they could sustain her if you let her do this long enough to you. Your hands travel from her neck and into her curls, a rock in turbulent waters threatening to take you under. 

There’s static in your ears, the only thing you can truly hear being the hammering of your heart, the hurried movements of your blood in your veins turning into riptides. 

It’s why you hadn’t heard the lock turning and the soft footsteps that approached you two. 

Layla breaks away from your kiss, her fingers incessant in their rhythm, her thumb having moved only to allow the base of her palm to take its place. You’re about to ask her what’s happened, if you can muster the words when a roughened hand takes you by the jaw. 

You’re met with the dark gaze of Marc, his eyebrow raised as he struggles to catch his breath at the sight of you. From the looks of him, he’s been watching for a lot longer than you’ve realised. 

You want to poke at him with funny questions, ask him why he didn’t want to join, but you’re too far gone, Layla’s free hand having returned to your chest making you feel like an instrument. 

Marc leans closer into you, the tip of his nose grazing against yours, and before he kisses you he whispers, “Come, baby.” 

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought of it and if you'd like to see more of these three, it means the world to me! Masterlist here.

(I've decided to discontinue tags for my own sanity.)

#marc spector x reader #layla el faouly x reader #marc spector fluff #layla el faouly fluff #smut #marc spector #layla el faouly #layla el faouly x reader x marc spector #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x y/n #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector x female!reader #wlw #layla el faouly x f!reader #layla el faouly x female!reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #oscar isaac

[inklore]

i want NEED more of layla x marc x reader's relationship bestie !! i feel like layla would've been softer than marc but she'd also would keep it in balance. like usually being soft but stays firm when you're acting bratty and doesn't back up from punishing you,,, and and and do you think she'd be more into praising or degrading you ???

ops i totally forgot about marc being in the relationship too --

all ours.

pairing: layla el faouly x (f)reader x marc spector

word count: 965

warnings: minors dni please, pov switch, illusions of sex, oral, fingering, cum eating, choking, slight hand kink, praising, dom/sub undertones, layla wears the pants in this three way ok.

etc: bestie when i tell you i blacked out in bi when i wrote this i mean it, like layla? dream, please give me a chance. marc AND layla? thee dream team that i would sell my soul to get a chance with! i also made marc the softer one….because i couldn’t help myself lmaksk.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

“Look at her,” Layla’s grin is more mocking than it is soothing; happy, teasing. The swipe of her fingers spreading your folds, the slick sound as they move against your clit - just enough to touch, a small taste of what you want, what you need - makes your cheeks heat even more; your teeth dig into your already sore bottom lip. 

When she lifts her fingers, your hips try to trail after them pathetically. The two fingers she holds up are visibly wet, coated, your arousal put on display for the three of you. The smirk she sends Marc makes your stomach sink, your resolve breaking. You would feel embarrassed, should feel embarrassed, neither of them have touched you all night. At least nothing more than the small fleeting ones here and there; a brush to your back through your dress, a puff of air from speaking close to your neck, your ear, wafting over your skin. The tiniest of finger grazes when Layla would give or take. 

No it was the looks they had given you. The lack of the deep set scowl that faded away when Marc was in the mood. The way Layla’s eyes kept sweeping along your body, how she would comment on how cute you looked to Marc, “Isn’t she so pretty? So beautiful, all ours”. The smile that followed from the statements a mix of teasing and admiration that sent your stomach plummeting, and heart racing. 

And maybe that's why she did it. Maybe she loved watching you squirm, or watching the way it was so easy to tell you wanted them, wanted her - it was always the same. 

It wasn't hard for her to see it, to see that shift in your body. The looks, the way you pressed your thighs closer together, or the way you kept staring at her hands. Your eyes sweeping over each finger, her wrist, her palm, whatever object she was holding or touching at that moment - the gleam of want in your eye, the hard bob of your throat - the dirty thoughts she was sure were going through your head making you move uncomfortably in your seat. Layla could feel the gravitational pull of your body, of your need, the more you would stare, the less you would talk; the heavier your breath got when she would take pity on you and give you only a taste of what you wanted.

Layla could read you like the back of her hand, as could Marc. You displayed your lust like a beautiful picture book to them, always open, always ready to be read, to be learned, to touch, to place, over and over again. 

Though, she never knew what mood you were in until they got you home, or until you couldn't take it anymore and you all but begged to be touched. Sometimes you’d want her to wrap her hands around your throat and make you come on her fingers until you were screaming and Marc was swallowing them down - or muffling your cries with his cock. 

Other times you wanted to feel the soft press of her fingertips all over your skin, wanted her to tease and pick you apart slowly, so so slowly, until you were grinding your hips up into hers, or her thigh. Making you come untouched. 

Some nights all you wanted was to watch Marc make her come over and over until you begged to have a turn - or until Marc has come inside of her and presses your face into Layla’s cunt to swallow down what wasn't buried deep. 

Layla liked it all, she liked you begging for her to touch you, to fuck you, to let you come. She loved how eager you were to please, how cute you looked being dominated by both her and Marc. How submissive you could be, the sad little moans you’d give when you wouldnt get your way, wouldn't be allowed to come. 

Marc being the softer one of the two when it came to letting you finish when you’ve been a little too bratty; didn't listen to directions, made a move when you were told to stay, to take, to please. If it were up to her you would beg for hours to come, days if that's what it took for a lesson to be learned. 

“Please let me come, please.”

“Oh, baby,” Layla would purr. Smile against your cheek, or wherever her lips were currently torturing you at. “I don’t think you deserve it, not just yet.” 

“Layla.” Marc would answer for you, groan for you. 

But Marc was a softy when it came to his girls. And she couldn’t deny the love she had for the soft intimate moments the three of you shared when you went slow, took each other to that precipice, to that crest with the intimacy of something more than just fucking, than fuffiling a need or punishment. 

“You’re so pretty when you come, look at her Marc.”

“Fuck.”

“Such a good girl.” 

And right now the look Marc has in his eyes, the heavy rising of his chest as he stares at the wetness on her fingers, at your arousal - enough to get both of their mouths watering - Layla can tell that tonight is going to be a giving night. 

That they were going to be a sweaty heaving mess by the time all was said and done.

Walking over to Marc, her steps slow and methodical, she grabs his jaw with a light grip; something flutters inside of her as she watches him open his mouth without her even having to ask. His lips wrapping around her fingers, the suction of his tongue as he licks your arousal off of her fingers, has her smirking, “I get her first.”

#layla el faouly x reader #marc spector smut #layla el faouly smut #layla el faouly #marc spector #marc spector x reader #layla el faouly x you #marc spector x you #moon knight smut #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #layla el faouly fic #moon knight fic #marc spector fic #**

[ozarkthedog]

AU: your camera roll but you’re dating Layla El-Faouly

#layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly #layla el faouly x reader

[moonlight-prose]

first you flirt with layla and end up kissing her- which ends up making marc jealous in return. he spends days moping about and starts making snarky comments to hide his jealousy (he’s not so great at hiding it)

then you kiss steven, who can’t stop thinking about it for the next couple of days. filling his and marc’s head with thoughts about you

eventually marc ends up drunk at your front door crying about being the only one being left out (he’ll deny he cried about it)

KISS ME, KISS ME, KISS ME

a/n: this drabble was MEANT to be super short and small, but i ramble so here we go my darling. i hope you enjoy!

word count: 1556 (don't look at me)

pairing: layla el-faouly x reader, steven grant x reader, marc spector x reader

warnings: kissing, more kissing, and some spit kink (again really don't look at me)

The first time you kiss Layla it’s soft. Softer than you imagined it would be—a direct opposite to what you usually get when kissing other people. She doesn’t swiftly grasp for you; doesn’t bite down harshly on your lip to remind you who exactly was in charge. No, it’s tender, gentle and by all means reverent. She leads you into a dance of subtle hints and sweet smiles, until you feel a dizzying high that’s so different from anything you’ve experienced before.

Before you even notice it, she’s licking slowly into your mouth—tongue pressing against yours and you swear you can taste that coffee she always orders in the morning. Her hand is buried in your hair—not enough to hurt—just enough for you to clasp onto. A reminder that this wasn’t Marc or Steven��this was her.

She pulls away, eyes fluttering open to take in your almost intoxicated expression. That sight alone draws her lips up in a smile—not quite a smirk, but you can see it beneath the surface. She likes the way you look. As if you’d bend to her will with yet another kiss and the truth of the matter was…you would.

“Fuck,” you whisper, eyes hazy as your mind came up with scenario after scenario.

“You’re so pretty,” she murmurs. Sliding her thumb along your bottom lip with barely any pressure, she gathers the saliva left behind and pushes inward until your lips are wrapped around her finger.

If you died in this moment—you’d be okay with it. Given the way your insides had turned molten and your brain short circuited the second she placed her lips on yours. Whimpering, you drag her closer until your lips are back on hers and she’s once again leading you through a dance you never wish to stop. You want the taste of her burned into your mind. So sweet and subtle, but strong enough to get drunk off of.

You don’t stop kissing her until she has to leave and even then you beg for one more in the open doorway of your home.

You kiss Steven for the first time three days after Layla. What came over you to reach over, drag him in by the collar, and slot your lips against his you’ll never know. But you’ll never forget the way he gasped—a shudder running down his spine as you tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. It’s not nearly as intoxicating as Layla and you’re thankful he doesn’t overtake you, but it’s beautiful.

He sighs into your mouth like he’d thought of nothing else for months, before he’s lightly dragging his hands upwards. The pressure of his palms against your waist is enough to drive you mad. Or at least drag him so close his scent is burned into your senses, the way his tongue hesitantly sweeps through your mouth. He doesn’t know how to kiss—that much is obvious—but it doesn’t stop you.

Oddly enough the door opens and Layla walks in. A smile gracing her face as she finds you practically sitting on Steven’s lap, your tongue sensually pressing against his until he’s shaking. You nearly feel bad for making him whimper, beg, plead for more. Except then you pull back to see his face and realize…this is what Layla must have seen on yours.

It’s a new kind of high to see Steven’s eyes all glassy—his lips in a perpetual pout that has your own curving up to a smile. You like him like this. Putty in your hands as you slowly lean in to kiss him again. Layla’s lips press against your bare shoulder—whispers of how good you two look together echo in your ear before she’s pulling away. She had her time with you…now it’s Steven’s turn. Fair is far after all.

That doesn’t stop you from licking into Steven’s mouth, gathering saliva on your tongue before moving away to cup the back of her neck, pressing an open mouthed kiss on her lips—pushing Steven’s spit into her mouth. She moans into the kiss, her hand tightly gripping at your hair before shifting back and leaving the two of you alone once more. Steven is greedy enough to cup your cheeks and turn your face back to his with enough timidness to melt your heart.

He wants you—craves you, and it’s there you realize that you’ll give him whatever he wants just to have a chance to kiss him like this again.

“Well I just don’t see the point in kissing them both,” he mutters into his glass of whiskey.

Your eyebrows raise as you attempt to bite back the smirk that threatened to show on your face. “You don’t see the point in me wanting to kiss…both of them.”

He grumbles, the scowl you recognize so well on his face once again returning. “Well yeah. Layla is my wife–”

“Divorced.”

“And Steven is literally apart of me–”

“I’ll give you that but–”

“So why did you want to kiss them and…” he trails off, staring into the amber liquid as if it would give him all the answers he sought.

Smiling, you lean forward to cup his chin and drag his head upwards so his eyes lock on yours. “Marc…did you want me to kiss you too?”

The red flooding his face tells you everything you need to know. “No,” he states. “Absolutely not. Have fun with both of them.”

Letting go of his face, you lean back—swallowing the rest of your drink and shrugging. “Whatever you say Spector,” you tease, getting up from the table. “Enjoy your drink.”

It’s two hours later that a sullen knock is hitting your door. Before you even open it you know it’s him—can feel it in your bones—and low and behold you swing the door open to see him…drunk. He leans against your doorway, the curls more pronounced and falling into his face the way Steven wears it. You nearly mistake him for Steven until he begins speaking—the American accent coming through thick and strong.

“Why didn’t you kiss me too?” he asks, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

The sight alone nearly makes your heart shatter. “Oh baby,” you whisper.

“Steven’s been replaying the kiss you two had and all I can think about is…why didn’t you kiss me? Did I fuck up somehow? Or…or hurt you?”

He didn’t know how wrong he was. You had wanted to kiss him the first day you met him—the anxiety of the day still prominent in your mind, but you could recall your imagination running rampant with thoughts of him. Of Marc and his lips. Without another word, you drag him into your home and shut the door. He’s moping, you can see it written across his face. Of course, you won’t tease him about it. You know what longing for kisses feels like.

“Do you want me to kiss you Marc?” you asked gently, cupping his face to keep his eyes level with your own.

“I just–” His eyes close. “Yes. I would.”

Leaning in slowly, you press your lips against his and feel the steady rate of your heart speed up until your nerves are all you can focus on. Even when he’s not trying, he’s good at this. He moves sluggishly, breathing harshly against your cheek, until his brain finally catches up with what’s happening. The world turns on its axis as you’re walking back until you hit a wall, his lips now giving you a run for your money. Whereas Layla was teasing and giving, Marc takes. Steals your breath and makes you beg for more.

Where Steven was soft and hesitant, Marc is strong and dominant. There’s something in his hold that says he wants this—you—but he’s also afraid of hurting you. As if you’ll break beneath his palms. Moaning into the kiss, you shudder when his tongue sweeps along yours, running along the top of your mouth and dragging another sound from your throat. Why you hadn’t kissed him sooner, you don’t know. You were sorely regretting waiting so long at this moment.

“Marc,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut when his teeth pull at your bottom lip gently.

“Mhm.” It’s mumbled against your cheek, his breath hot along your skin.

He’s driven your mind to madness, the heat burning through your body until you can’t think straight anymore. You don’t even fucking want to at this point. All you can sense, taste, feel, is Marc and you want more. You want him to drag you to hell and back with his lips alone. Tugging at his hair, you manage to gain the upper hand, sucking on his tongue and smirking into the kiss when it’s his turn to moan.

“You’re right,” you breathe, choking when he nips down your throat. “I should have kissed you a lot sooner.”

It’s a day later when Layla hears about what happened. You bet the hickeys on his neck tell her the story and you joke that they are now matching. Steven is last to find out—laughing at Marc’s expense when he learns what exactly occurred. It’s enough to make you smile. Even though Marc refuses to accept the fact that he begged…let alone nearly cried.

That however is soon rectified when you press your lips against his again.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x y/n #layla el faouly #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #steven grant #moon knight fic #moon knight #my writing #posting this and RUNNING #adiossss

[stranger-nightmare]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐰𝐨 | 𝐃𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐚 𝐄𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐲

requested by 🦊anon

A/N: Layla my beloved!! I’ve been so excited to write for her, thank you for the request, this was so fun to write!!

You stretch your body and smile lightly as you take in your surroundings; the gorgeous and spacious hotel room you were currently in, the warm early morning Cairo sun leaking through the curtains, giving the room an ethereal soft glow. And, next to you on the grand bed, your beautiful girlfriend. You stare and admire her for a just a moment before she too is yawning and stretching out her body as she wakes up. The most perfect of smiles graces her face when she catches you staring at her.

“Good morning baby,” you murmur as you lean down to kiss her.

Layla mumbles a greeting as she returns your kiss. The kiss is languid and slow, laced with a sleepy sensuality. Both of you are smiling soflty into the kiss as you enjoy the morning bliss, the feeling of simply being with each other. Layla moans quietly against your mouth as you begin to move your body against hers, working a kind of push and pull movement as the kiss grows more and more heated. You hold Layla firmly in your arms as you shift the two of you, lying you both on your sides as you keep kissing her deeply, your tongue slipping into her mouth.

At the same moment you push a leg forward until your thigh slotted between Layla’s, pushing up until you could feel her warmth on your bare skin, her pussy separated from you only by the thin material of her panties. She sighs softly into the kiss, her hips starting to move on instinct, grinding against your thigh. You smirk at how responsive she is, even this early in the morning, sleep still lacing her eyes.

You then feel her match your smirk when she shifts to shove one of her thighs between your legs as well, pushing closer until you were gasping into the kiss when your covered pussy came into contact with her thigh too. Light and gentle giggles escape the two of you as your lips move together, matching the rhythm as you grinded on each other’s thighs, frantically humping, desperate for that friction through the underwear that you had both worn to bed.

Your hips move faster and faster as you both race towards your climaxes, your kiss becoming sloppy as your concentration is lost to blissful friction between your legs. Before long euphoria courses through you, a blissful high to match the blissful beauty of the morning, of your gorgeous girlfriend. Shortly after Layla is gasping and moaning as her own high crashes over her; it was a sound and a sight you knew you’d never get tired of. The two of you stare at each other for a moment as you come down from your highs, fucked-out and sleepy smiles adorning your faces. You can’t help as the two of you break out into gentle giggles as she bumps her nose against yours, nuzzling gently.

“Good morning indeed,” she mumbles against your lips.

Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

#stranger nightmare #kinktober 2022 #layla el faouly #moon knight layla #layla moon knight #layla el faouly smut #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x y/n #layla el faouly imagine #layla el faouly drabble #moon knight smut

[fluffyprettykitty]

encounter

Pairing: Layla El Faouly x g/n reader (no specifications!)

Word Count: 700 words

Summary: Conversing with strangers have never felt so right.

Author’s Note: written for my love's @tom-whore-dleston meet cute challenge, I used the prompt "using the washing machines next to each other at the laundromat". Jordan I'm always wishing you nothing but the best, ily <3

Main Masterlist ・❥・Layla El Faouly Masterlist

You sucked in a deep breath as you pushed the door open to the local laundromat, one big basket underneath your arm. Running late once again as work kept you overtime because "nobody quite cleans you do" so now you were rushing.

Rushing all the time, never having a moment or two for your own self. You scoff at the thought and listen to the grumble of your stomach. Maybe you'd manage to have some time to make some dinner if the place is relatively empty.

You glance around at all the occupied machines, and people standing around and looking or waiting, and manage to spot the only one free. With another sigh, you head to the machine, thankful for your luck, only for someone to cut you.

"Oh, sorry I didn't see you there."

A melodic voice tells you and you turn around to look at a beautiful woman with fluffy hair and a radiant smile, pushing her objects over to the next machine.

"It's alright don't worry." You reply politely watching her haste movements. Looks like you are succeeding today.

"Here, this one is free. I just was trying to separate my clothes. You know how it is, if I don't use different loads on whites and multicolors and blacks I think my mom will show up to yell at me." She rambles on as she is sorting through clothes and pushing them into the different baskets, the washing machine rumbling underneath. Looks like she's been in here for a while and looks like she's gonna be here for even longer.

You laugh at her warmness and her accurate story as you are settling the basket down and nodding your head. "Mothers are something else." You don't sort through your clothes, you don't have a lot anyway, and shove them inside the open door.

"Right?" She chuckles and offers you some detergent. "I got everything. If you need a thing, no problem you can use some of mine."

"That's so sweet of you, thank you." You grab the bottle from her hands and place it in the appropriate place.

"Just being your friendly laundromat gal." She smiles again and you feel like getting lost inside it. Her hair is adorning her face in such a way that shines her delicate features, falling gracefully onto the back of her neck where a small golden chain can be seen peaking.

"I'm Layla, by the way." She extends her hand in a formal greeting which you respond to immediately. First, you notice her hand, a couple of small rings, and then her nails varnished black. You touch her hand and it feels electrifying, like an ocean coming alive, you slightly shake it and nod your head.

"So no name?" She laughs a little realizing you are probably tired. It's late in the afternoon after all.

"Oh, no, sorry, I got distracted. Yeah, I got a name. Y/N."

"Oh, that's beautiful."

"Yours is too." You reply and finally take your hand back, slightly rubbing it on you before reaching for your pocket and looking for the coins.

A couple of moments of silence pass as she organizes her things and you start your machine, once done she heads to the chairs motioning for you to come along.

You follow her, never wasting your time to observe her as she is browsing her phone, pushing her hair away from her face only for it to fall back down again and you sit by her side crossing your arms.

Then your stomach is heard. Aggressive and mighty rude.

"Long day?"

"The longest." You nod your head and look upwards, taking another deep breath.

"Wanna grab a snack?" She smiles. "My treat."

"Oh, you don't have to."

"Oh, I want to."

Maybe some happiness could come after a long day and a beautiful stranger could become one with your heart long before you realized it. Maybe those were the strings of fate getting pulled together. Maybe just maybe you had found your one.

That would be the first one of your many grabbing snacks together and the very start of your relationship.

for updates please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary

#selenewrites #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly #Layla el faouly fluff #layla el faouly fanfiction #layla el faouly x you #moon knight #moon knight x reader #Layla x reader #moonknight #moonknight x reader

[kasplonkable]

Domestic Hcs: Layla El-Faouly

I just get the feeling she's an early riser. But by early riser, I mean she's up an already organising what you're both doing, while also in the process of waking you up too

Like, it'll be 5am and she's there with a cup of coffee, letting you know that she's going on a hike in less than an hour, and you're coming with her

"Babe, it's literally 4:47 AM, the sun isn't even fully up yet"

"But it's almost up, which means we're wasting time!"

Despite that, it's always worth it to see the way the early morning light casts shadows on her face; she looks even more striking than normal in the orange glow of the sunrise

You have these extravagant movie nights, where you end up making a blanket fort and putting up fairy lights, and making hot chocolates heaped with whipped cream and marshmallows

She gently kisses you when you get whipped cream on your top lip

She also gets mad at the movie you're watching, like if it's a horror movie then she's yelling about the logic used

"Oh yeah, great idea!! Split up with a serial killer in the house, what could possibly go wrong?"

But it's worse if it's a romance movie

Both of you will be playfully gagging at the kissing scenes and rolling your eyes at the cheesy lines, giggling whenever something dumb happens

Dancing around the kitchen in fuzzy socks

You get so caught up in the moment that you forget the pasta until it bubbles over, making a loud hiss that makes you both jump

I imagine her house being really bright and airy, and full of cool artifacts

When you first saw them, you thought they were just cool replicas, until you eventually figured out the truth

"Wait, Layla, is that the real statue of khufu?"

"..........it's too nice to sit in a museum"

"How did you even get it?......Babe?!"

It's not like you're going to tell anyone though, so for now it'll just have to stay on the bookshelf, right next to her collection of French poetry

One day you walk into the kitchen to find Layla talking to a stray calico cat at the window. She had given her a small plate of chicken that she'd been cooking for lunch and a bit of water

You didn't want to disrupt the moment by walking in, so you watched from the doorway with the most loving expression a person could muster

After that, the cat would keep coming back. Same time everyday there would be tapping and loud meowing coming from the kitchen; the signal it was time to feed her

You're not quite sure when it happened, but eventually she kind of let herself in, roaming the house, before getting comfortable on the bed and falling asleep

Since then she's never left

Layla always considered herself more of a dog person, but it melts your heart when you see her with the cat curled up in her lap

She has. So. Many. Boots. And because she takes them off at the door, you find yourself tripping over a pair sometimes when you're on your way out

But then, you leave books around the house constantly, sometimes to the point where she can't even see the table underneath all the papers

One would think you get annoyed at eachother for these things, but somehow it's endearing to find boots at the door and know Layla is home from a long day. Just like how she finds books on the table and knows you've become passionate about something new

Despite that, I reckon she's a pretty tidy person

She takes spring cleaning very seriously. On the first day of spring, she puts up a checklist of everything that needs to be sorted out, and systematically works her way through it

It's too much to get done in one day, but you work together and the list is cleared within about a week

It's nice to take a moment to sit down, knowing that there's nothing left to do except curl up, and enjoy eachothers company

---

Is it obvious yet how much I love her? I've been wanting to write this for ages, but studying has been getting in the way. Speaking of, this will probably be my last post for a couple of months. Exam stress is getting real and I want to give myself the best chance I can to do well! I do have some more stuff in the works, but I won't be looking at it until my exams are done. Hope you enjoyed this though, and as always, feel free to request anything and I'll get to it when I can!! :-)

#moon knight #moon knight fluff #moon knight hcs #moon knight headcanon #reader insert #layla el faouly #layla x reader #layla x y/n #layla x you #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x y/n #layla el faouly fluff #domestic fluff #moon knight series #moon knight domestic fluff #moon knight reader insert #disney+ #marvel #mcu #moon knight imagine #layla el faouly imagine #layla el faouly headcannons #layla el faouly hcs #may calamawy #please I'm actually in love with her

[angel-of-the-moons]

Layla el Faouly Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist

❤️‍🔥 -- Means NSFW

💘 -- Means Eventual NSFW

🍰 -- Means Fluff

🥀 -- Means Angst

#moon knight #layla el faouly #scarlet scarab #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x you #layla moon knight

[hederasgarden]

Nothing Lasts But Light

Summary: You love Layla enough to accept anything, even Marc.

Pairing: Established Layla El-Faouly x Reader l Layla El-Faouly x Reader x Marc Spector l Marc Spector x Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Explicit sexual acts, threesome, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV, cum eating, and angst. 

Word Count: 3.4K 

A/N: I can’t remember how long Marc disappeared from Layla’s life but I took a few liberties with this fic and made it over a year. 

You meet Layla first.

It’s a fast friendship that grows effortlessly between you, sometimes it’s hard to remember life before her. She’s beautiful and confident, so at ease in her own skin that you can’t help but envy her. Love comes later, after Marc disappears and your friendship deepens into something more. Her lips on yours are a revelation, the feel of her hands on your skin addictive. She cracks you open easily, putting your body under hers and drawing out your soft heart while guarding her own.

You know what she does for a living is dangerous. She never tells you where she goes but she comes back to you beaten up more times than you can count. You accept her every time. You have to - you love her. Turning her away is unthinkable, even tonight when she shows up with Marc whose sharp eyes are distrustful and wary. They’re both bloody, their clothes torn. He is arguably worse off, looking anxiously over his shoulder. You’ve been half-expecting this since Layla left three weeks ago after a phone call from him but you’re still a little surprised he’s actually here. She spent months looking for him, always coming up empty-handed.

“Come in, come in,” you encourage, stepping back and letting them into your apartment.

It’s a small space, cozy but cluttered. Marc takes it all in, zeroing in on the photos that decorate your mantel… The ones that show you and Layla laughing and carefree. His gaze skips over to the kitchen table where one of her jackets is folded neatly over the back of a chair. The whole apartment is littered with evidence of the life you’ve built with her. One without him.

Layla helps Marc onto your couch while you rummage under the sink in the kitchen for the first aid kit. When you return you look between them, trying to determine who needs attention first. Most of the blood on Layla looks like it’s from him… Or maybe someone else because if Marc had lost all that blood he wouldn’t be upright. You reach to treat the still bleeding cut on his brow but he grasps your wrists before you can touch him. His grip is just shy of painful, fingernails digging into your skin. You glance at Layla who lays a hand on Marc’s thigh.

“Let her clean you up,” she says. “Please.”

Marc releases you after a long moment. Tension lines every muscle of his body when you step between his legs. Layla closes her eyes and leans back against the couch. As you slowly clean Marc's face you look at her every so often, cataloging the weary set of her brow and the utter exhaustion written all over her. There’s a scratch on her face but it’s superficial. Her shirt clings wetly to her chest from what you hope isn’t blood.

She seems to sense you looking and opens her eyes, smiling softly. “I’m ok, habibti,” she promises.  

You nod and turn your attention back to Marc. The weight of his gaze on you is heavy, almost a physical sensation. You lean closer, craning over him to follow the deep gash in his shoulder down his back. When you almost lose your balance he steadies you with a hand on your hip. It’s strange being so close to him. Even after he married Layla he wasn’t around much, disappearing for days or weeks at a time. When he was home, he kept his distance. You suspected back then whatever he did for a living probably wasn’t exactly legal and you know neither is Layla’s chosen profession.

Tipping his head back and to the side you look at his neck, frowning. The skin there is puckered from what looks to have been a blade to his throat. “This is going to need stitches,” you tell him, concerned.

That was never something you excelled at. A wonky little scar on Layla’s shoulder from when you patched her up months ago was a testament to that and you still feel guilty for marring her beauty. She promptly silenced your concern with a kiss and those clever fingers of hers.

“Just clean it up, it’ll heal on its own,” Marc directs, staring straight ahead.  

Layla cracks an eye open and gives you a reassuring nod, encouraging you to continue cleaning away the blood and grime from his skin. Up close he smells like soot and cordite but every once and a while you catch the floral scent of your girlfriend’s perfume. After you’re finished there’s a sizable pile of bloody bandages on the coffee table behind you, but at least Marc looks better.

Layla opens her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Her nose wrinkles. “I need a shower,” she announces, standing.

She cups the back of your head and kisses you sweetly before pulling away to rest her forehead against yours. You stay like that for several moments, taking comfort from one another before she pulls away and disappears down the hall. When you look back at Marc he’s staring up at you. His hand is still on your hip and you realize yours is still resting on his shoulder. You withdraw it with a quiet apology and his own falls away as you busy yourself with cleaning up the gauze and putting away your supplies. Several minutes pass in silence before Marc finally speaks.

“She told you everything?” He asks.

You turn to face him, surprised to find he’s only inches away from you. Barely 20 minutes ago he was swaying on his feet, leaning heavily on Layla but now he’s standing upright, color back in his face. Although he’s not a big man his presence is overwhelming, commanding your attention and respect. It’s easy to see why Layla fell for him, drawn to the way he exudes both danger and comfort… admittedly a strange mix. He looks ready to tear down the world for someone he loves.  

“She did,” you confirm quietly.

Layla kept many secrets, something you struggled with at first but this wasn’t one of them. She told you the truth about Marc and the suit the first night you got together. Since then you’ve spoken often about him. So much so that in some ways, you feel like you know Marc as well as you know Layla.

“And you’re… ok with it? With me?” He asks.

“I am.”

Marc relaxes at your admission, bowing his head in a surprising show of vulnerability you hadn’t expected. His breath is ragged. You feel compelled to step forward, touching his shoulder.

“She searched for you for a long time but she always believed you would come back,” you tell him.  

While you don’t want to hurt Marc, you also want him to understand. You love Layla fiercely and you’ll protect her from anything, herself included. He looks up at you before glancing down the hall.

“All this really doesn’t bother you?” He asks.

“Why would it? Just because she loves you too that doesn’t mean she loves me any less.”

“It’s true,” Layla says, startling you both. Her hair and skin are still damp from the shower, a towel wrapped tightly around her body. She looks radiant and you feel a tug on your heart as she approaches the two of you. She links her fingers with yours.

“Go get a shower, we can talk after,” she promises Marc.

Once he’s gone she turns to you, cupping your face and rubbing her nose slowly against yours. “Are you ok with this?” She asks.

Your girlfriend’s expression is uncharacteristically vulnerable, reminding you when she admitted she would take Marc back if he returned. You hadn’t understood at first that she wanted both of you. She had a hungry heart, loving deeply and fiercely in a way you admired. In a way you envied. You agreed then and now, even though you have some concerns, you find you can’t deny you’re interested.

“I am.” She visibly relaxes. “But he seems sad… lost,” you add seriously.

“You’re good with damaged things,” Layla whispers, reaching for the tie on your robe. She tugs it free and pushes it off your shoulders, admiring the thin nightgown you wear underneath. You shudder when she drags her fingertips over the swell of your breast, nails catch on the delicate skin.

“You’re not broken,” you remind her meaningfully. “Did Marc explain why he left?”

“He did. It’s complicated,” she admits. You wait for her to continue but she doesn’t elaborate. You don’t push her to. Loving Layla meant trusting she’ll tell you things when she’s ready to. “I can find him somewhere else to stay if you want.”

“If you trust him that’s enough for me.”

Layla smiles, the sight helping you relax into her embrace and accept her lips on yours again. She groans, grasping your waist and walking you back towards the couch. You stumble and she follows you down onto the leather seat, straddling your thighs. She sheds her towel, revealing her beautiful body. It feels electric, her weight against you and the smell of her shampoo surrounding you. She shivers when you run your hands up and down her back. You trade soft kisses, reveling in the feel of the other, each touch adding to the building ache in your core.  

“What about Marc?” You question breathlessly. You can still hear the shower running but he won't be in there forever.

“If you want him to join us he can. If you don’t, we can take this to the bedroom,” she promises, holding your face in her hands. “I’m ok if we take this slow but either way I want you right now.”

“I want you too,” you admit, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you consider the man in the other room. You do want them both. The smart thing to do would be to stop and talk about everything but Layla’s always made you a little reckless. “Ok,” you agree, body trembling with anticipation.

She climbs off your lap to kneel between your thighs, flipping your short nightgown up, and urging you to scoot to the edge of the couch. She nuzzles your cunt and inhales deeply. Your eyes close at the first touch of her tongue, her fingers kneading your inner thigh. Layla knows your body better than you know it yourself. She uses her thumb to rub your clit while she fucks you with her tongue. The vibration of her soft moans has your back arching, fingers sliding into her hair. She is a giving lover, working you over with a gentle finesse that a man never could replicate. You gasp, chanting her name, hips rising off the couch and you hold her against you.

The floorboards creak and your eyes shoot open to find Marc standing in the hallway. He looks dangerous and alluring, expression half shadowed even as his eyes seem to glimmer in the dim light. He’s bare chested, one of your towels wrapped around low around his hips. You stare at one another until Layla draws your orgasm to the surface and your eyes flutter closed, your whole body going taut.

“Oh,” you breathe. Layla continues to lap at your core, drawing out your pleasure until you can’t take anymore and push weakly at her head. She stares up at you, rubbing your thighs and humming in satisfaction.

She glances over her shoulder at Marc and the two of them share a long, intimate look. Whatever he sees on her face has him stepping cautiously into the living room, glancing back at you. Layla rises, unashamed of her nudity and draws Marc in for a kiss. You see how she pushes her tongue in his mouth, sharing your taste with him. The sight makes you clench around nothing and heat spreads through your limbs when Marc groans.

“Do you want to taste it from the source?” She asks him, molding her chest to his back and resting her chin on his shoulder. You feel suddenly shy having both their attention on you and bring your knees together but stop with Layla clicks her tongue. “Let him see, habibti,” she encourages.

You swallow heavily and let your legs fall open.

“Beautiful,” Marc whispers, moving forward. He drops to his knees before you, his bulk forcing your legs further apart.  “Is this ok?” He asks, looking up at you.

You nod, shivering when he draws a thick finger through your folds, parting them to his intense gaze. His fingers are calloused and rough, so much bigger than Layla’s. Although you’re still sensitive from Layla’s mouth you can’t deny how good it feels to have him gently explore you. When his thumb drags over your clit you flinch, inhaling sharply. He does it again, watching you face contort with pleasure. The two fingers he slips inside meet no resistance.

Marc maintains eye contact as he dips down to taste you for the first time, flicking his tongue across your clit in time with the way his fingers drag in and out of you. The couch dips as Layla comes to sit beside you, reaching into your nightgown to cup your breast. She pinches and pulls your nipple until you’re arching off the couch and crying out. You share a kiss and she pushes her tongue in your mouth while you teeter on the edge of another orgasm. You’re nearly there when Layla pulls away and tells Marc to stop. He’s panting just as hard as you when he draws back.

“The bedroom,” Layla instructs, pulling you to stand and leaving Marc to follow. She strips you of your nightgown and urges you back onto the bed, climbing over you to settle on your stomach. You cup her hips, looking up at her curiously. You’re not exactly sure how this will go but you trust Layla.

“I want to watch Marc fuck you,” she whispers, bending down to kiss your neck. She nips at the skin there, causing you to groan quietly. “I’d like to see you two together,” she continues, dragging her lips along the shell of your ear.

“What about you two. Don’t you want to…”

“We already reintroduced ourselves,” Layla assures you.

The thought of them together makes your mouth grow dry and you rub your thighs together to relieve the pressure you feel in your core. You half wonder exactly how that would have gone because Marc doesn’t seem the type to give up control easily, though you know how good it can be under Layla soft instruction.

“I wanted tonight to be about the two of you getting acquainted,” Layla explains, “And if you’re not ready for that I know Marc would love to finish eating you out. Or just watch us.”

You look past her to Marc who stands in the doorway. He’s abandoned the towel, fisting his cock in his hand slowly as he watches the two of you. An encouraging smile is all it takes for him to stalk towards you. Layla settles herself next you on the bed, curled into your side. One hand disappears between her thighs, a tendon on her forearm flexing as she begins to touch herself while the other rests on your stomach.

Marc climbs on the bed, looking between Layla and you. “Should I get a condom?” He asks. “I’m clean but…”

You glance at Layla and she nods, encouragingly.

“I’m ok if you are,” you tell him, reaching up to touch his cheek. His eyes close at the contact, leaning into your palm. “I think we all trust each other here.”

Marc settles himself between your thighs and leans forward, hand resting beside your head. He leans down slowly, giving you time to react. You tilt your head up and meet his mouth. It’s soft, just the brush of your lips against his but after a moment his tongue urges your mouth open to taste you. Both of you groan as he takes control of the kiss and lowers his body to rest against yours. Even though the kiss turns harsher, more demanding, he surprises you by doing nothing more than kissing you for a few moments, fingertips caressing your neck and cheek.

When he pulls away you’re breathless, eyes wide. He smiles and shifts forward. You can feel his thick cock at your entrance. As he pushes inside you slowly, Layla grasps your chin and directs you to kiss her. She swallows down your soft cries as Marc enters you, your cunt fluttering in response to how full you feel.

“Fuck,” he gasps, eyes closing.

You tear your lips from Layla’s and grasp Marc’s forearms to arch your back, wanting more. “Oh, please,” you moan.

Marc draws back slowly only to thrust inside you again, building you up slowly as he chases his own pleasure. You’re overwhelmed by the rush of both emotions and physical sensations. You lift your hips, wanting him to reach deeper. He grunts, grasping your right leg and hitching it up. Pleasure skitters along every nerve and you tilt your chin back, reveling in the feel of his lips on your throat.

Beside you Layla gasps, making that beautiful sound you’re intimately familiar with as she gets closer and closer to her own orgasm. You watch through your lashes as she fucks herself furiously with her fingers, her own attention focused on where you and Marc are joined together. One hand cups her breast, plucking her own nipple. Suddenly she stills, back arching off the bed and she comes with a beautiful cry that intensifies your own pleasure.

“Want you to come too,” Marc whispers, flexing his fingers against your hip. You turn your attention back to him, staring into his deep brown eyes. He hitches your leg higher on his hip and increases his rhythm into faster, deeper strokes that have you clenching around him. “Touch yourself,” he commands.

You do as he asks, slipping a hand between your bodies to find your clit. It’s sensitive and swollen, you don’t need to do much to push yourself over the edge with the way Marc is fucking you. Your orgasm rolls up from your stomach, spreading across your chest and then down through your limbs, everything white hot and tingling.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Marc chants, voice going hoarse. His strokes lengthen until he finally stops, buried deep inside you. He looks almost pained, his eyes closed and his face a primal mask of pleasure. You both come down together, breathing evening out but your own heart still races in your chest.

“I could get used to watching this,” Layla comments. “Maybe next time I’ll sit on that pretty face though,” she says, tracing your lips with her finger.

The idea makes you clench around Marc who groans and shifts forward. He drops his body against yours but is careful to keep his weight on his forearms to not crush you.

“You’re fucking insatiable,” Marc says affectionately.  

“Good thing there’s two of us now,” you tell him, resting your hand on his bicep. Marc’s gaze turns back to you, his expression soft. He brushes the back of his hand over your cheek and smiles.

Layla hums happily beside you, leaning forward to kiss you and then Marc. “Stay here,” she says, rising from the bed and heading towards the bathroom.

Marc pulls back, easing out of you with a sharp breath. He settles himself beside you as Layla emerges with two washcloths. She hands one to Marc and eyes you considerably, tongue running along her bottom lip as she stares between your thighs. You can feel Marc’s spend leaking out of you and know it’s what has her so mesmerized. She climbs on the bed and dips a finger in the mess, her touch making you jump. She sucks her fingers clean and sighs.

“I think you need a rest but next time I’ll clean you up,” she promises, gently dragging the washcloth through your folds. When she’s done, she climbs between you and Marc, urging you to curl up beside her. Marc settles behind her and after a moment you feel his hand settle on your hip, his thumb stroking your skin.

Tomorrow you’ll have to figure out how this will work but for now you close your eyes, exhausted and content. What matters is Layla is home safe...and so is Marc.

#layla el-faouly x reader x marc spector #marc spector x female reader #layla el-faouly x reader #Marc Spector x Reader #Marc Spector x you #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x marc spector #layla el faouly x reader x marc spector #marc spector x reader x layla el faouly #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight

[refiwrites]

By Chance

Pairing: Layla el Faouly x Fem! Sekhmet's avatar! Reader

Requested?: Yes

Summary: Being the avatar of Sekhmet, the goddess of war and healing, (Y/N) knew about Harrow’s plan and was on the progress of stopping him, but she didn’t expect to be running into another avatar and an old friend... Or ex.

Word count: 3.6k

Warning/s: violence, mentions of injury, sprinkle of angst and jealousy(?), swearing, if im missing something lmk!

Note: OKAY HEADS UP please don't judge my drawing I literally don't draw 😭 so yeah I've done a bit of researching and tried to make an armor that (i think!) would suit Sekhmet's avatar and I went and made these, so that's the armor I'm going with visualising throughout the story so I hope it helps if you're confused! feedbacks, likes, and reblogs are appreciated. let me know what you think!

GIF is mine! Let's begin!

Being the avatar of Sekhmet, the goddess of war and healing, (Y/N) knew about Harrow’s plan and was on the progress of stopping him, but she didn’t expect to be running into another avatar and an old friend... Or ex.

Hopping out of the boat carrying the new information in her head, (Y/N) shoves her hands in her pockets, reaching Anton Mogart’s place.

“You’re quick to get here, on the hurry?” Bek welcomes her as (Y/N) smirks. “You know I’m never late, Bek.”

“Always the punctual one.” He said. “You’re not about to be the only one here tonight., I’ve heard Layla was coming too.”

Oh?

This was new, what would she want with an already sold sarcophagus? Not like she’d be able to steal it and sold it like she does. Now, this was going to be a complicated night.

As for (Y/N), Layla was her old flame. Meeting once in an auction for a special artifact, the two built a thick tension in the air as they fought to raise the bid, not wanting to give the artifact to the other and vice versa.

Though in the end, the artifact went to–

(Y/N)’s hands. Layla was... disappointed to say the least, throwing glares at her as (Y/N) playfully teased her about her own victory.

But that disappointment soon turned to shock as (Y/N) offered Layla to have a drink with her as (Y/N) was captivated by her entirely, not just because of how elegant and fierce she looked; it was also the way she refused to back down. And that ignited a spark in her.

A drink turned to a one too many, then (Y/N) found herself kissing her. She tasted sweet, maybe it was because of the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way her perfume stuck to her like a tattoo.

Who knew just from that night could bloom such an interesting relationship?

The two then became acquainted with one another, founding themselves having lunch together whenever they could, or (Y/N) taking her to some fancy restaurant for dinner.

It went on for almost a year and a half, but their bond was just too good to be true.

(Y/N) almost forgot the reason why they broke up, maybe it was from the sudden long distance they had to do with regarding their job, or was it that they progressively didn’t have time for each other as Sekhmet got in the way?

But one thing’s for sure. (Y/N) never really moved on and Sekhmet knew that.

As she reminisced, she didn’t notice Bek waiting for her response as he stared at her. “Sorry, what’s that again?”

“I said how’s life for you now? Still bidding on the black market?”

She shakes her head, ridding it of Layla as she responded, crossing her arms, her odd ring on her hand glinting under the bright lights.

“It never stops, does it?” She asked. “Probably could build a whole museum for those artifacts you’ve got, huh?” He chuckled. “Hmm. I might.” She joked along.

Bek nods before looking at (Y/N). “Mr. Mogart will be with you shortly, excuse me.”

As Bek left her for a few minutes, she watched as Anton played in his backyard as horses ran around, spraying sand.

‘He’s taking too long, we need to move fast’ You turn and see Sekhmet in all her glory, holding her scepter, a couple feet taller than you in her red dress armor, her head took in a form of a lioness, her eyes in slits.

“Do you suggest we just straight up steal it? “ (Y/N) sarcastically said, eyes glued to Anton who was smirking as he blocked a hit.

She could feel Sekhmet’s eyes on her as Sekhmet let out a scoff of annoyance. ‘I just might’

“No, we’re not going to do that.” (Y/N) glanced back at her for a second as she turned back.

‘Well, well, look at what we have here’ Sekhmet suddenly said, interest filling her honeyed voice.

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows then she decided to look back again, and she could feel her heart jump out of its place.

There she was, Layla, smiling and greeting Bek. Her eyes were also quick to catch the man behind her. (Y/N) knitted her eyebrows together, she couldn’t place her finger on it, but she noticed how he stared at her. ‘My, my, is that who I think it is?’

“She’s here...” (Y/N) said under her breath. It didn’t seem like much time had passed, Layla still looked beautiful with her hair tied up, a beautiful gold accessory hung around her neck as she smiled.

“Just in time, Layla.” Bek greeted, shaking her hand. “I’ve got someone who also seems to be interested in what you’re looking for.” Bek said, jerking his head to the side as Layla looked.

Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets as her eyes widened. Thankfully, you were looking away, she found herself turning back around, looking down, pulling a few strands of her hair to hide half of her face. “Why is she…” Layla sighs. She certainly wasn’t expecting you at this time.

“Yeah, I see that.” Layla breathed out, managing to restore her composure. “Alright, Mr. Mogart will attend to you soon, for the while, why don’t you go up the side and watch?” Bek suggested before nodding and walking away.

“No, no, that’s the least I want to do right now.” Layla said, shaking her head. “Why? What’s wrong? Who’s she?” Marc asked, staring at the person watching the game. “It’s a long story.” Layla said, rubbing her temples. “Guessing you know her?” He spoke.

“Yeah, Yes, I do. Let’s just say we go way back.” She answered.

A few moments passed, before Bek approached them again, smiling. “Mr. Mogart will see you now, come.”

Layla and Marc looked at each other, nodding before sticking to their alibi.

Just as they were about to walk in, (Y/N) was already inside, talking with Anton.

“Pleasure seeing you here.” Anton said, giving her a smile, shaking her hand. “Cut the formalities, Anton, it’s not like we haven’t seen each other before.” She laughed, until two people drew closer from her peripheral vision.

“Layla, nice to see you here.” Anton turned to Layla, greeting her before pausing, looking at Layla and her. “Hold on,” Anton was about to say something when (Y/N) gave him a sharp glare, a slight shake of her head, Anton nods knowingly. Layla caught the interaction; it was enough to make her palms sweaty and had her biting the inside of her cheek. She wipes her palms on her pants before shaking Anton’s hand. “Yeah, thank you for meeting us on such short notice.”

“No problem,” he says, turning around. “Come with me.”

Doing what you were told, you walk upon a lit pyramid whilst listening to Anton speak about his love for collecting historic things, inside held Senfu’s sarcophagus.

“Now, why the sudden interest in this?” He asked, turning to face all of you again.

“Mm…I think it would look nice in my property.” (Y/N) joked, shifting her weight to the other leg, chuckling. Anton shakes his head, before turning to Layla.

Layla, however, had her eyes on (Y/N), but she glanced at Marc, and at Anton. “We thought-“ Anton cut her off, raising a hand and pointing at Marc. “Wanna hear it from your husband.”

Husband?!

(Y/N) blinked a few too times rapidly, looking at them.

‘Oh, this is good’ Sekhmet appeared from the side.

Since when did Layla get a husband?

‘Hold on, I recognize that man,’ Sekhmet says, tilting her lioness head at Marc.

“Well who’s he..?” (Y/N) whispered as the man tried to explain his reason. ‘Khonshu’s avatar, Marc’

Her expression morphed into a surprised one. Khonshu was here as well? “How’d- what is he even doing here?” Sekhmet gripped her staff before responding, ‘It’s one of two scenarios, either they’re an accomplice or they want to stop Harrow’

“Can- can we just take a look inside?” Layla said, saving Marc. Anton looked at her, skeptical. Bek also approached, staring weirdly at them. “I’ll want to take a look as well.” (Y/N) piped up, making everyone look at her. “What? Can’t I look with them?”

Anton shakes his head, moving to the side and extending his arm. “Be my guest.”

All three nod in thanks, then they went inside.

(Y/N) stared at Layla and Marc as they whispered to one another, but she can just make out a few words as they subtly trace the texts on the sarcophagus.

“Okay, so what’s happening here?” She asked.

Layla and Marc stared at her. “It’s… a long story, I think Sekhmet would understand.”

She tilted her head, hoping there was more time for them to inspect the sarcophagus. “Tell me.”

In that timeframe, Layla somehow managed to say everything in a summarized form, but she still didn’t say anything about Marc, which (Y/N) made a mental note of, but she did say he was Khonshu’s avatar. Now, (Y/N) was proven the point that they wanted to stop Harrow, and what was her original idea, she found herself teaming up with them.

“Alright,” Marc looked at (Y/N) and at Layla. “I gotta talk to Steven, buy me some time?”

Layla nods, looking at (Y/N) for her confirmation. She nods, confused but nonetheless following, Layla and (Y/N) left the pyramid, meeting back with Anton and Bek.

“Surprising to see you guys not together anymore.” Anton spoke.

(Y/N) and Layla glanced at each other. Yeah, it was a while. But tonight had reminded (Y/N) of how she missed Layla, it hadn’t occurred yet until Layla talked with her inside the pyramid a few moments ago, a rush of overwhelming feelings suddenly flooded her, but (Y/N) knew now wasn’t the time to get distracted, although she still longed for her.

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Layla missed her and felt the same as well, there was nothing wrong with it since she made up her mind with Marc, finish the mission then they can go their separate ways. But it was different with (Y/N).

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Layla spoke, smiling, efficiently buying time for Marc. “Yeah, it has.” (Y/N) responded. “I sense some tension here.” Anton said, staring at the two. “No hard feelings?”

Layla and (Y/N) stared at each other, there were a lot to unpack, but from an outsiders point of view, they looked to be solemn without one another, and that seeing each other again made a certain spark in their eyes.

“No- Well, I hope not.” (Y/N) spoke, staring at her. The edge of Layla’s lips curl into a smile. “Hmm… none.”

“What’s he doing?” Bek suddenly asked, making Anton look at Marc, still inside the pyramid, Marc was gesturing everywhere, nodding, and pointing.

“He’s uh… praying.” Layla says, staring at Marc.

That reason didn’t seem acceptable as things escalated quickly, now there was a gun pointed at Marc as he knelt on the floor. “Anton, you don’t want to do this.” (Y/N) said, her hands raised. “I don’t want to, but your friend here was getting a bit too close.” He spoke.

Layla shakes her head. “Just- let us go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Anton says, but then another man approached him, whispering in his ear. “Funny, seems like we have another guest.” Anton continued, stepping outside. (Y/N), Layla, and Marc all turn their heads to see who it was.

And speak of the devil there was he.

Arthur Harrow, walking towards where they were.

Layla and Marc stared at each other while (Y/N) stared Harrow down as he walked.

Now Harrow was talking about some kind of common ground between all of them.

“(Y/N), snooping into business but ran into a much more complicated deal.” Harrow looked at her, taking a second to glance at Layla before returning his gaze on her. “Layla, seems you have caught yourself with the two people that matters to you most.” Layla looked down, biting the inside of her cheek, not letting Harrow get to her head. “One hides a far deeper secret concerning past wounds, however the other stays only true, but troublesome.” Harrow continued, now looking at Marc.

Marc shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You piece of shit.”

Harrow ignores him, facing Anton. (Y/N) knew something was about to happen the minute Harrow raised his cane.

‘Take your chance now, do it’ Sekhmet said, (Y/N) gazing at her on the far end of where Harrow came through.

(Y/N) strokes the ring on her hand with her thumb, moving her gaze towards Harrow when he starts chanting, purple mist swirling to life.

‘What are you waiting for?!’ Both Sekhmet and Khonshu said to Marc and (Y/N) separately.

Marc found himself looking at Khonshu as the air began to pick up its pace.

‘We’ve got enough power we need as she’s there, she’s Sekhmet’s avatar’ Khonshu said, referring to (Y/N).

Marc found himself staring at (Y/N), she too looked unsure.

(Y/N) watched as the sarcophagus was wrecked, followed by Harrow walking away, sparing one last glance at them.

“Hey, he’s gone, where is he?” One of the men shouted, their guns aimed.

Both (Y/N) and Layla look up.

She took it as a sign.

(Y/N) felt the power course through her as she summoned her own suit, tugging her other hand as her ring elongated into a spear, sharp that it shined.

She then acted fast as Marc swooped down, downing two other men while (Y/N) dealt with the other.

She mercilessly whipped her spear, cutting clean on their chest as they got knocked down. A few shots were given, (Y/N) holding her arm up, letting the blade ricochet from her arm brace, she ducked and rolled, hitting her spear under the man’s legs, letting him fall.

Bunch of screams were heard outside the area, people taking shelter as shots echoed throughout.

Marc was busy fighting with another one of Anton’s men when duplicate round of shots unexpectedly rained on the three from the other side of the fence.

(Y/N), thinking quick, ran and shielded herself in front of Layla, grabbing her arm and pulling her close behind her as the brace on her arm turned into a shield that almost fit both of them.

Layla let out a gasp of breath, staring at (Y/N) while Marc threw daggers at them, dodging the shots.

Layla and her looked at each other. “Buy me some time.” Layla said.

(Y/N) stared at her for a few seconds before nodding. “We can do that. Go, I’ll cover you.”

“Marc! We need to give her more time!” (Y/N) shouted as she covered her, Marc nodded before spinning and throwing a few more daggers, effectively hitting the row of Anton’s men.

Layla went inside the pyramid again while (Y/N) decided tk bell out Marc, hopping over the fence as she fought again, moving swiftly with her spear in hand.

She effectively downed a few men, sustaining a kick to the stomach and a few punches, even a few bullets to the chest, which ricocheted.

“(Y/N)! Layla!” Marc said as he was surrounded, unable to free himself just yet.

(Y/N)’s gaze snapped to where Layla was, and sure enough she was battling Bek.

She found herself running towards them.

They were in the middle of fighting when Bek pulled out a knife and tried lunging at Layla. (Y/N) rushed in, tackling Bek out of Layla’s way.

“Go!” She said as Layla picked the pieces from the sarcophagus. (Y/N) was suddenly kicked, letting herself stumble on the ground on her back as Bek ran towards Layla to stop her, grabbing her hair and forcefully tugging her back.

Layla screamed, reaching up to Bek’s arm to stop him. (Y/N) rushed again, landing a punch onto Bek’s face, making him let go of her.

Marc was still being surrounded as he tried his best to defend himself, hearing Steven in him.

(Y/N) dealt with Bek as Layla stored the pieces in her pockets, making sure not to miss any piece.

“He needs your help.” Layla said, looking at Marc.

“On it.” And (Y/N) was running again, offering Marc some aid, taking down those around him as he had one on his hands.

“Alright time out! That’s it! Time out, time out!” (Y/N) heard someone scream in an English accent, moving her gaze towards where Marc was, only it was now a man in a white suit, his arms raised in surrender. What on earth?

“Let’s all calm down, yeah?” He kept saying.

Being distracted, she didn’t even notice someone coming behind her.

“Let’s all chill the F out and-“

“Marc, look out!” (Y/N) said, but then it was too late as both of them were impaled by a spear.

Steven gasped for breath as the spear effortlessly went through him, followed by many more. “Take the body Marc, take the body Marc!” He said in regret, giving the body to Marc.

(Y/N) gasped, feeling something lodged through her. Breaking off the half that was in front of her, she grunted as she pulled out the other end on her back, angry.

Summoning her spear, she spun it before hurling her spear at the man, letting the sharpest edge pierce through him.

She glanced at Marc, watching as his suit was back, fighting the men coming at him.

(Y/N) glances at Layla, seeing her exiting the pyramid, grabbing a gun and was headed straight at them.

(Y/N) still fought as Layla fired a shot at one riding a horse, but then Layla was suddenly hit by a spear, sending her to ground.

She looked up to find that it was Anton.

The four of them were in the field, Layla being in the middle a few feet away from Marc and Anton while (Y/N) was parallel with Layla from a few feet away.

Then they started running at each other.

“Grab her!” Marc shouted as (Y/N) ran and jumped, taking Layla with her as they rolled a few feet away.

Marc now fought with Anton, but he managed to escape.

Layla and (Y/N) caught their breaths as they both held themselves up, Marc nearing.

“You okay?” Marc asked Layla. She nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Have you got everything together?” (Y/N) asked her. Layla nods, tapping her pockets. “Its right here.”

“What do we do now?” Marc asked.

“We need to find a car.” Layla said, clutching her shoulder as it felt a little sore.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

After taking their bags and walking a few miles away, the trio found themselves in a car rental.

Layla and (Y/N) leaned on the wall, resting their bodies as Marc talked with the person in charge.

“So, your husband, huh?” (Y/N) said, staring at Marc.

“It was for the alibi, we’re long gone.” Layla said, looking at (Y/N).

(Y/N) made somewhat a surprised face as her eyebrows raised. “Oh... So you two became..?”

“Yeah, we became together, even planned on marrying but then, a lot happened...” She says, “But I’m sure of one thing and that’s we’re only doing this to save the world.”

(Y/N) nodded, sure it made her feel something different inside, but who was she to complain? But the thought of her marrying someone else left a place in her head.

“But, you... Where have you been? I think we haven’t seen each other since...” Layla trailed off, staring at the ground. The last thing she remembered was looking her in the face as they said their farewells to each other in a busy street in Spain.

“Spain...yeah, I remember.” (Y/N) let out a breath. “Times changed surely... I’ve been doing the same thing as you, until Sekhmet and I found out about what Harrow was doing then I knew I just had to do something.” She spoke.

Layla battled in her mind, but the latter won as she cupped her hand in hers, making them look at each other like nothing happened between them. “You’re doing the right thing.”

(Y/N) found her eyes scanning Layla’s face, eyes trailing down to her nose, to her lips. She blinked, fearing she might caught her. But it looks like Layla did, but never let it known.

“Thank you for saving my life back there.” She said.

“You’re welcome.” (Y/N) replied, suddenly finding her mind empty as she relished the feeling of Layla’s hand touching hers. Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own as her pinky finger slowly intertwined itself with hers.

“Whatever Harrow said back there, he knew you mattered to me. Its true.” Layla uttered abruptly.

“Wh-“

“I’m sorry, just disregard whatever I said.” Layla chuckled dryly, her hand retracting although she didn’t want to let go just yet, but she didn’t know how (Y/N) felt, she wasn’t supposed to be risking anything when they’ve just seen each other again.

(Y/N), however, grabbed her hand as Layla tried pulling away, standing straight from leaning against the cold wall.

“Layla, its fine, you matter to me too, you know.. It never changed.” She smiled sheepishly.

Layla felt her heart pound. And she found the edges of her lips curling into a smile. A heartfelt one.

“Whatever happens next, I’ll help you guys out. Consider me your personal shield.” (Y/N) joked, which earned a laugh from Layla.

“You never changed,” Layla responded. “Never knew how much I missed tha-“

“So, anyone want to go into the desert?” Marc walked towards them, keys jingling in hand. This led to the pair letting go of their hands, fixing themselves, avoiding each other as if they’ve been caught doing something unacceptable.

Marc looked at the both of them, waiting for a response.

“I could use a night drive.” (Y/N) said, looking at Layla and Marc with a smile.

#layla el faouly #layla el faouly imagines #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly gifs #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly fics #layla el faouly one shots #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight series #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight imagines #moon knight x you #moon knight one shots #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant imagines #marc spector imagines #jake lockley imagines #x reader #fanfiction #imagines #imagine #drabbles #refiwrites

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Florence

Summary: You and Layla enjoy your honeymoon the way honeymoons are meant to be enjoyed.

Pairing: Layla El-Faouly x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: wlw, smut 18+ only, fingering (Layla receiving), porn with like a sprinkle of plot, bad smut most likely you've been warned

A/N: Had this in the works for a few months but here it is! If you enjoyed it you have @pennyserenade to thank for it because she gave me the final push to finish this.

Ever since you’d slipped your ring onto Layla’s hand, you’ve gone a little feral. There’s barely been a moment you’ve spent outside your room, though Florence glitters in the hot sun like a jewelled labyrinth, waiting to be explored. 

You suppose that honeymoons were never really meant for tourism anyways. 

You can’t really look at Layla without a primal little sprout growing in your chest, a curl of possessiveness that shuts off all other thoughts except for ‘mine’. 

Mine. 

Gods, you want to bite her, to swallow her whole. You have bitten her, the evidence clear on her skin, and she has done the same to you in turn. 

Though this is anything but the first time you’ve had her in bed, screaming until her voice is hoarse, it’s the first time that it’s felt like this. Each brush of her skin against yours, the fan of the sounds spilling from her plush lips raise wave after wave of desire in you in ways you’ve never experienced before. 

One look, one kiss, one glance at her ring and you find yourself pressing her down into the sheets, and wrapping your hand around her throat, determined to see what kind of noises you can coax out of her this time. 

She seems to only egg you further, asking for more, more, harder and faster, until she’s quivering. Until her legs are gooey and mushy and there’s a sheen of sweat on her chest that you’ll be depraved enough to lick it away, bite down and make her whine from the overstimulation and the pain. 

This time had started innocently. 

In the bathtub, her back pressed to your chest, you found your hand wandering, trying to clean away the traces of sex from her skin with the tepid, sudsy water. You had worked at her shoulders, tried to loosen the tension knotted into them. 

It really had been innocent, a well-needed break for the both of you to rest and eat before the next rounds. 

It would have been innocent had you been with anyone else but Layla. 

And then she had to go and moan in that delightful way that she did. 

The water only came about halfway up to her stomach, her chest bare and exposed, golden skin even more golden in the low light of the washroom.

Her pussy shimmered for you from underneath the bubbles on the surface of the water. 

You’d abruptly changed course, fingers on her nipples, playing with them until they hardened over for you. Her body always responded to your touch as easily as if it was the only thing she knew how to do. 

Layla had asked you what you thought you were doing and you’d shushed, pressing your lips against her neck and taking in the smell of her. On instinct you’d nipped at the skin, soothed the spot over seconds later with your mouth. 

When she hadn’t complained and only moaned in earnest this time, her back arching sharply for you, you’d gotten out of the water to lay down a towel on the ground and all you’d seen after that was the red hot colour of the ember of lust. 

You’re manhandling her, her body soaking the towel underneath her, the cold grip of her ring against your hip driving you up the walls. 

In seconds you have yourself hovering over her cunt. You press down and the softness of her wet flesh against yours makes you cry out, dizzy and disoriented for a couple of seconds. 

The hardened nub of her clit brushes yours, and you come to. There’s a fucked out look in her eyes and that makes you want to bite her. 

With another press of your hips, you lean forward, follow the line of her throat with your nose and decide where you want to sink your teeth in now. 

There are no other thoughts running inside your head except for mine, mine, mine. 

Building up a steady rhythm, you choose the soft skin about her collarbone, before biting her just on the other side of harsh. The sound she makes goes straight to your head, a heady combination of a cry and a moan. Letting go, you soothe the spot over with your tongue, though a depraved piece of you wanted to keep on the grip you had on her skin and tear off a piece for yourself. 

Your hand goes underneath her lower thigh and you hike her leg up, moving her around the way you please. The angle switch for her seems to do it all. She moans and cries out for you, a gentle tremble starting to grow in the muscles of her leg like the beginnings of an earthquake. 

Her reaction to such a small change is so intense and natural that it makes you laugh gently, “You like that, Layla?” 

She groans. “Fuck, baby.” 

You start to arch your back further before each time you grind down onto her pussy to get better leverage. The mixture of your arousals drips everywhere and gets stirred in with the bathwater on your bodies. Yours and Layla’s thighs are wet and soaked. There’s the faint, wet click each time your hips meet hers and it’s music to the sounds she’s making underneath you. 

The humidity in Italy has done wonders to her hair, and it splays out underneath her and makes her look like an angel. 

Moving your hips in circles, you raise an eyebrow at her teasingly, “You want a finger, baby?” 

Her eyes open only to see if you’re in earnest or only teasing her in the way you’re often fond of at home, keeping her tethering on the edge for hours at a time, coming up behind her and kissing her neck and making her soak through her jeans. She nods frantically, her hips coming up to meet yours with each thrust of yours. 

Pressing two of your fingers in her mouth, she starts to suck at them. You circle her tongue with your fingers and she moans again, muffled, and you can feel the vibrations of it through your hand. You continue your rhythm against her cunt and her chest arches up for you. You move her leg to rest on your waist before you take her breast in your hand and just hold it for now. 

Taking your fingers out of her mouth, you reach behind you and run them through her folds. Lust is so strong with you that you marvel at the control you have over yourself to be able to play her body so well and leave her at a loss for words. 

You press inside her easily, and her pussy sucks you in almost instantly, barely letting you move your hand and fuck her. 

You slow down your hips to move measured and deep presses against her cunt, in time with your fingers as you move them slowly in and out of her. 

You remember the first time you slept with Layla. The olive slip dress she’d worn through the dinner all through the night, the way she was so clearly not wearing a bra underneath. The way her legs went on for miles with the heels she was wearing. 

She had walked you back to her place and you’d invited her in for another drink, which she never did get, but she did get to be pressed up against the wall with the wine rack against it. She had sighed and moaned and wrapped her leg around your waist because her dress also had a delightful little slit in it that you could slip into and trace up her inner thigh to run through the dark curls between her legs. 

Right there against the wall, you had rubbed her clit over and over in a teasing, come-and-go pattern that her shaking as she gripped onto you for dear life as she came. 

That was when you knew how much fun you could have with Layla. 

Then she’d pressed you back onto bed and licked at your core until she made you come three times and then she’d moved you into much the same position you have her in now and rubbed her cunt against yours until she was crying out in pleasure and gripping onto your forearm for dear life. 

The next morning, you’d woken her up and repaid the favour and didn’t let her leave your bed until well-past noon, rolling around until the sheets had fallen onto the floor. You’d pressed her up against the door to your apartment and only let her go after she made you promise that you would come over the next evening and let her make you dinner. 

Right now, she’s starting to cry out in the way that lets you know that she’s close. Your thoughts have aroused you so much that you know that simply seeing her release will push you over yours. 

You push in a third finger and her pussy squelches for you. The sound makes you break out into a trilling laugh, you want to touch the towel underneath her and see how wet it’s gotten from just her arousal, “Gods, Layla.” 

Building up a quicker pace with your hand and hips, you roll the pebble of her nipple between her fingers until she’s breaking out into short pulses of moans and cries. She comes with a scream of your name and a sharp arch of her back. 

As you had expected, the marvellous sight in front of you of a goddess drowned in pleasure, pleasure you’ve given her, pleasure you only will give her from now on because she’s your wife, sends you into a white hot release, your palm on her breast, your grip firm. 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here.

#layla el faouly #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x y/n #layla el faouly x female!reader #layla el faouly fluff #layla el faouly angst #layla el faouly fanfiction #layla el faouly fanfic #layla el faouly fic #layla el faouly x f!reader #layla el faouly imagine #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #may calamawy #Spotify

[castlecult]

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 : 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing : layla el-faouly x fem!reader

warnings : +18, face sitting, oral sex ( r receiving ), not proofread

event : kinktober 2022

“what if you sit on my face?” you almost choke on your cereals. “w-what?” you turned to layla, she was casually staring at the tv avoiding your gaze, but not because she was shy. quite the opposite.

“you heard me,” she smirked. you gulped loudly, turning your gaze to the bowl. “jeez, it’s barely 9 am,” you muttered, trying to resume eating in peace. “yeah, so?” layla turned towards you, smiling. “stop it,” you groaned.

“stop clenching your thighs then,” she pointed at them and you felt your cheeks heat up, noticing that you were in fact clenching your thighs. you tried to relax and took a deep breath.

“baby, i’m hungry,” layla spoke after a while. you finished your cereals not long ago and you two were watching some cartoons. “told ya to eat some cereals,” you chuckled. “mh, no. that’s not what i meant,” she laid down and pulled you with her, you found yourself laying on her body.

your breasts pressed together, your lips close to each others, you froze for a second. “you’re savage,” you whispered, making her chuckle. “yeah, sometimes,” she said while pulling down your shorts with your underwear. “layla, are you–” she shut you up with a kiss.

layla took her time, caressing your cheeks before grabbing your hips, moving her leg between yours and guided you on her thigh. you moaned into her mouth at the friction, her clothed thigh brushing your clit, adding more pleasure.

she stopped and let you sit up, you let her guide you and you found your thighs positioned on each side of her head. she smirked at you before pushing you down towards her and she moved her lips to your sex.

layla was devouring you, holding you down with her arms. you grabbed her hair, pulling and moaning out loud. “fuuck,” you arched your back and started grinding on her face, seeking the pleasure provided by her lips and her tongue. you saw stars while coming directly into her mouth, trembling and breathing heavily.

an : this… sucks. i’m not sure about layla behaviour and i don’t like the way this is written idk 🫥 but yeah, anyway. have a good day !! <3

kinktober tag list : @alexxavicry @romanoffswebs-blog @therealnekomari @withakindheartx

#kinktober 2022 #rin writes #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly x y/n #layla el faouly imagine #layla el faouly blurb #layla el faouly drabble #layla el faouly one shot #layla el faouly fanfiction #layla el faouly smut #layla el faouly #scarlet scarab #may calamawy #moon knight #marvel

[ozarkthedog]

summary — you surprise Layla with some sweets after a rough week at work and she loses herself in the moment.

warnings — alt universe. milf!Layla x afab babysitter!Reader. fluff. sexual tension. finger sucking. Marc makes a brief appearance.

word count — 1.1k

author’s note — this fic is part of my ongoing series, Slow Like Honey, but it could be read as a stand alone. 

thank you — @negronispagliato for the baklava idea. 💙

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾

❦ 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ❦ 

— 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 ❧ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 — 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝/𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

Just as you pull the hot sheet pan sizzling with freshly baked Baklava out of the oven, Layla walks through the door with a heavy sigh. She kicks off her heels and hangs her purse on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. 

She looks tired and downright done with the week. Normally, she’s light in a dark room. With untamed curls, tender eyes, and a wily smile. It was so easy to fall head over heels for her.

“What’s that smell?” She asks, quizzically. “I know that smell.” 

She pads into the kitchen with curiosity and stands next to you at the island looking over the sweet treats on display. “Oh my goodness! Baklava!” She exclaims with a smile as bright as the sun.

Your heart swells watching her stress melt away. “Well, you were having such a rough week at work and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Layla beams. “That’s so thoughtful. Did you know this was one of my favorite pastries? Did Marc tell you?”

You shake your head. “No, he didn’t. I noticed whenever we walked by the bakery with the kids, you always made heart eyes at the Baklava in the window display.” You explain as you pour water, sugar, and lemon juice into a small bowl and begin to stir the ingredients.

She lets out a laugh. “Ah, you got me. It’s hard not to fawn over the things I love.” She admits, watching as you mix the confection. She turns her body into yours, slowly closing the distance while you’re distracted. 

Your eyes flick from the bowl up to her when you feel warmth radiate your left side. Heat flames your cheeks when you realize how close she is.

“This was really sweet of you.” She purrs while resting a tender hand on your shoulder.

Your belly flips from the touch. The skin beneath her palm burns forcing you to bite your tongue to keep the soft moans from spilling.

“You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do for you besides taking care of the little ones.” You say while poking your finger through the thick liquid and giving it a taste. “M’hmm. It’s perfect.”

She quickly dips a finger into the syrup before you can drag the bowl away with a “tsk”. She wraps her lips around her finger with a lash fluttering, risque groan.  

Your grip on the bowl tightens upon hearing her make such a sinful noise. 

“Come on. One more? Please?” Layla whines while reaching for the bowl once more. 

“No! I need it for the Baklava!” You chastise with a laugh as you fight her off. She slips a finger by you and gathers another dollop but this time she pokes your cheek with the sticky digit instead.

You stand in shock as the room temp syrup drips down your cheek. Layla laughs as she dips another finger in the bowl and brings it to her lips sucking on the sweet liquid.

With a mischievous smirk, you gather the fallen syrup from your cheek and try to prod her own in retaliation.

She holds your wrist easily at bay as the two of you laugh, wrestling until your bodies are locked against one another and you’re pinned to the side of the island in defeat.

With a satisfied sigh, Layla presses her soft curves against your frame and brings your wrist up to her mouth.

She presses your finger to her lips and sucks the syrup coated digit into her mouth. She rolls her tongue languidly and licks the sugar from your skin with a lewd moan. Your belly twists as she stares you down and drags her tongue around your finger lapping every bit of the sweet syrup.

Ever so slowly she pulls your finger from her lips, taking her time watching your wide doe eyes glaze over by the second. “You taste so sweet.” She murmurs against the pad of your finger. Her plush lips tickle the sensitive tip and make your knees buckle.

“I - I think that’s the sugar.” You barely manage to squeak through the hazy trance.

Layla shakes her head. Curls bouncing in disagreement as those frisky, chestnut eyes zero in on your lips. “No, it’s you.” She affirms with a sly smile.

Energy pulses between your bodies like a circuit waiting to explode. Earthly magnetism draws you closer as she removes her hold on your wrist and lightly grasps your chin between her thumb and forefinger. 

Your mouth drops open as her fascinated eyes dance over your face before landing on your bewildered ones. She’s wanting to ask for permission but she’s fighting her temptation to take what she wants.

A tender thumb grazes your bottom lip experimentally giving you time to pull away but you don’t budge. You’re careful not to move a single muscle in the hopes that you won’t ever wake from this dream.

Layla’s lips tug into a smile before she leans even closer. Your eyes flutter shut waiting for the sweet press of her lips when suddenly the side door opens.

You quickly turn on the spot and busy yourself with plating the leftover pastries. One drops upside down on account of your heart beating like a jackhammer. Layla rights herself and brushes a few fallen curls away from her face as Marc steps into the kitchen.

“M’hmm. That smells delicious whatever it is.” He says, shrugging off his jacket before hanging it on the hook next to the door. 

“I made some Baklava for the family.” You reply with a forced smile.

Marc clutches his chest playfully, “What did we ever do to deserve you?”

He combs a hand through his wavy, jet black hair as he steps around the kitchen island and gathers Layla into his arms. “Hey Baby. How was your meeting?” 

Jealously gets the better of you and you peer over your shoulder at the couple as they embrace and Layla vents about her day.

Oh, what you’d give to be held by both of them. To be loved by both of them.

Your belly twists when you notice Marc’s stare is trained on you. His features are curious and perverse as he trails his eyes up and down your body. Heat burns from the inside out making you turn away in shame.

You do your best not to squirm under their gaze while you finish fixing and arranging the desserts and do away with the dirty bowls and pans in the dishwasher.

“Well, I’m off.” You announce as you toe on your shoes and dig your car keys out of your backpack hoping to make a quick exit so you can finally get a breath of fresh air and quell the ache between your legs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, one moment,” Layla breaks away from Marc’s hold. “Will you share that recipe with me for the sweet syrup tomorrow?” She asks, eyes sparkling with hope.

“Yes. Definitely.” You muse with a coy smile.

posting before I get cold feet 😬🙈

#layla el faouly #layla el faouly x reader #may calamawy #layla el faouly x you #moonknight

[moonlight-prose]

♱ BELONG TO YOU ♱

a/n: this was a fic on it's own that had been sitting unfinished in my wips folder for months. but i'm shoving it into kinktober, because it is filthy as fuck. enjoy!

day twelve - threesome + body worship | kinktober 2022

summary: a never-ending game of give and take between the three of you, and you thrived off it.

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: marc spector x f!reader x layla el-faouly

warnings: MINORS DNI, cussing, threesome, body worship, cum eating, fingering, my horrible attempt at dirty talk.

He looked pretty. That’s all you could remember in this situation, his question of what you thought about him when you first saw him now muddled in your mind. His hands ran down your sides, dragging you into his lap slowly and you did your best to give him an answer. What did you think about him? There were too many words to describe such a situation at a time like this. Fuck, you could barely even tell him what you wanted him to do next.

“C’mon tell me,” he cooed, head tilted back against the couch as your hands rested on his shoulders.

“I—”

The words caught in your throat when a second pair of hands trailed up your back. Their touch, lighter than his and yet still prominent enough to drive you just as crazy…if not more. You didn’t need to look over your shoulder to know she was smiling. Her eyes alight with mischief as she caught his gaze. They knew the effect they had and still they did this on purpose either way—drew you taut with pleasure through only their so-called innocent touches.

“What did you think of me baby?” she asked—voice barely above a whisper. It had the hair on the back of your neck standing up, eyes fluttering shut as she kissed the juncture of where your neck and shoulder met.

You whined when she pulled away, desperate to have her remain right where she was. “Please…”

He tutted, hand reaching up to wrap lightly around your throat and tilt your head to face him. “You know how to get what you want.”

The words died in the back of your throat. You wanted to shout them, tell them the truth to finally have their touch remain in the places that you needed, but you could barely form a sentence. Layla’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear, her breath washing across your cheek, sending a shudder down your spine. They were doing this on purpose. Breaking you slowly with every caress, every whispered word, because they wanted you as much as you needed them.

“I remember you telling me he was pretty,” she breathed, eyes flashing to Marc’s over your shoulder. “Didn’t you?”

You nodded quickly, choking on your stuttered breath when his hips jolted up into yours. He’d placed you on his lap in such a way that your cunt now pressed directly against the bulge in his pants. They would drag this out until you were past the point of begging—half mad with built up pleasure that you wouldn’t be able to function without their help. In a way it made you want to remain silent even more.

“You’ve gotta speak up,” Marc said. “I know you want to.”

Whimpering, you shifted in his lap, breath stuttering when Layla’s fingers began unbuttoning your top. There was no doubt in your mind that they owned you completely. That you’d die for them if asked, because you couldn’t imagine living your life without them being a part of it. The road to get here was a long one; filled with enough twists and turns to leave you dizzy.

Yet this…their touch, their love, it was all you dreamed about and more.

“C’mon baby.” His voice had turned dark, an edge to it you’d only heard when he was in the midst of a fight.

You supposed this was a fight in itself.

“Be good for us,” Layla breathed, lips ghosting along your shoulder as she stripped the shirt from your body—chills spreading rapidly down your spine with a mere brush of her breath against your skin. She knew the effect she held over your body—your being—and right now she was wielding it to her strength.

Molding you to her hands, her wants and desires. Just as Marc was doing.

“He was—oh—” Her hands dipped lower, opening the button of your pants with ease, fingers trailing along the waistband.

Marc’s hand still remained around your throat—a grin spreading across his lips as he watched you shudder with every stroke of Layla’s touch. He’d told you before that there was nothing he enjoyed more than seeing you like this. Fully pliant in their holds—nothing occupying your mind except them.

“I was what?” he asked softly, his other hand curving around your hip.

“You were pretty,” you gasped, head falling back against Layla’s shoulder as her fingers dipped into your already soaked underwear.

“Oh baby,” she cooed. You could feel her smile press against your cheek. “Is this all for us?”

Nodding, you rocked your hips forward, desperate for her touch to press even further along your cunt. She did as you wished. Spread your slick up to your clit and circling it lightly until you were shaking in her hold, chest heaving. Marc made quick work of your bra with one hand, tossing it to the side before leaning forward and taking a nipple into his mouth.

You dug your hand into his hair, a broken moan tearing from your throat as he laved his tongue over the peaked bud, tugging on it lightly with his teeth to elicit another strained sound from you. They were ruthless in their suppleness. Both exacting their pleasure on your body to drag you right where they wanted you. A never-ending game of give and take between the three of you, and you thrived off it.

“So beautiful like this,” Layla murmured, biting along your jaw, her fingers speeding up along your clit and drawing sounds from you that made her head spin. “Sitting on Marc’s lap like a goddess.”

He growled against your breast, biting into the side of it with an edge that made you jolt. He knew you liked a taste of pain with your pleasure—something he found he rather sided with as well. Nothing too hard, never enough to rip you out of the daze they put you in, but perfect enough to heighten in. The tighter grip you had on his hair told him how you reacted—his lips curving into a smile.

“You’ve got a perfect body.” His thumb rubbed into the side of your neck soothingly. “You fit our hands like you were fucking made for us.”

Layla hummed in agreement, her lips pressing against yours and guiding you into a kiss that left you gasping for breath. Their praise brought you into a new kind of high—sending your body into overdrive. It was their way of driving you insane, of reminding you who loved you at the end of the day. Who was there to protect you and keep you safe. 

You never felt more at ease—more at home—than when you were in their arms.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” she whispered.

“Me first,” Marc retorted, sliding his tongue into your mouth with practiced ease. He kissed you as if he was finally breathing for the first time in ages. As if you were the only source of oxygen for the both of them.

“She’s close,” Layla said; the audible squelch of her fingers on your cunt now mixed with your panted breaths, your eyes barely open as they took what they wanted from you.

He groaned, grinding his hips up into yours and pressing Layla’s fingers even harder against your clit. That was all you needed to go tumbling off the edge with their names on your lips. She turned your head with her other hand and caught your lips in a sloppy kiss of teeth and tongue. You felt her hand fall to lay over Marc’s that still remained on your neck—both of them reminding you that you were theirs. No one else could have you, no one could take you.

Your mind whited out as pleasure shattered across your body, until the only thought in your head was of them.

“That’s it,” Marc encouraged you, his teeth digging into your neck before sucking the skin into his mouth. “So perfect for both of us.”

“Our love,” Layla breathed, ceasing her movements when your hand shot down, gripping her wrist.

You barely opened your eyes long enough to see Marc lift her fingers to his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. It caused heat to curl low in your stomach, a feeling of need building up with every passing second you watched him lick her fingers clean. You wanted them again, wanted to be the one who tore pleasure from their body just as they did to you. Marc’s heated eyes met yours, a grin curving on his lips. He’d gotten a taste of the thing he craved most and now he wanted to drown in it—in you.

You’d have them both by the end of the night. This you knew for sure.

#marc spector x f!reader x layla el faouly #marc spector x reader x layla el faouly #marc spector x reader #layla el faouly x reader #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x you #marc spector smut #layla el faouly x you #layla el faouly smut #moon knight #kinktober 2022 #my writing