#layla el faouly x reader x marc spector
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summary: while having a private moment with your boss, the ceo unexpectedly drops by… or so you think.
pairings: Boss!Layla El-Faouly x afab intern!reader x CEO!Marc Spector.
warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. Alt Universe. slight dubcon but reader is willing. power imbalance. free use. f/f -> f/m. established relationship (layla x reader). oral sex (fem receiving). fingering. sex in a private office. dirty talk. praise kink. cum feeding. cream pie.
word count: 3.8k 😅
author’s note: if a fic could come to life, i'd choose this one. thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta'ing and the mental support. i haven't written a fic this long in a while. hope you enjoy. 💙
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
“I have the paperwork all ready for you to sign, Ms. El-Faouly.”
Your boss, Layla, peers up at you with her deep brown eyes from behind her monitor. “Hey, one second. I’ve got to finish this email real quick.” She sends you a soft smile in return before nodding to the right towards a big stack of papers sitting messily on her desk.
Layla had one of the corner offices and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite spot in the entire building. It floods with sunlight all day long and it’s got a great view of the city. Layla was also another reason why it was your favorite.
“How was your day?” She asks, typing as you place the paperwork on top of the stack.
She’s wearing that dark gray, silk blouse and skirt combo you helped her pick out last week during a night out on the town. You told her it made her look powerful and inviting as you got down on your knees for her later that same evening.
“It’s going alright.” You sigh, drawing imaginary patterns on the corner of her desk.
Layla clicks send on the email and turns her attention to you. She leans her elbows on the edge of her desk with a pensive brow. You can see her brain working on ways to fix your problems before you even tell her. “What’s wrong?”
You can’t help but laugh. “Nothing is wrong, I swear.” You raise your hands, shaking your head while the gorgeous woman looks you over quizzically.
Stretching your arms over her desk, you grasp her hands, giving them a squeeze. “Honestly, I’m fine. I just..”
“What is it?” she asks, tucking a few strands of her wild curls behind her ear. She leads you around her desk by your clenched hands and pins your chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Tell me.”
Your eyes dance around the room, landing everywhere but on her. She gives your chin a slight shake and forces your eyes back to hers.
You take a deep breath. “Am I doing a good job?”
Layla’s heart sinks. “Of course you are. Why on earth-”
“It’s just, it’s so much work.” You cut her off, spilling your worries now that the dam has been broken. “I hate not being able to get everything to you on time. Not to mention there’s so much paperwork. No one ever says thank you but they’ll definitely yell when you’ve done something wrong. I don’t know if I’m doing things right-”
“C’mere, baby.” She ceases your ramble and pulls you down into her lap and into a searing kiss that makes your head swirl.
Tender, yet fierce lips encompass your own, stealing your gasps with fond affection as she winds her arms around your waist and maneuvers you into the position she wants.
You settle into the pose, kneeling over her lap with your legs on the outsides of her thighs, the cushion of her expensive chair a grateful soft bedding as she forms you to her body.
“Should we really be doing this?” You ask between broken, breathless kisses. It was after 5pm, so it was less likely anyone would walk in on you and her. Still, hesitation nestled in your belly.
“Everyone is gone for the night.” She confirms before lewdly dragging her tongue along the seam of your lips. “There’s no need to worry about them.”
Layla presses her forehead against yours sensing your apprehension. She searches your timid eyes for a moment trying to find the right words to express her gratitude.
“You’re doing a wonderful job. I’ve gotten no complaints from anyone. So if they have an issue, they haven’t told anyone,” she says, holding your gaze. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you more about how lucky I am to have you. My life has been so much better since you started working here.”
She holds your face, rubbing her thumb along the apple of your cheek. “In more ways than one.” She winks, playfully.
“Layla!” You gasp, lightly swatting her on the chest.
She sends you a look you know all too well. The raised eyebrow and slightly parted lips mean trouble is coming. In a good way.
“Oh, baby, you don’t know what you started.” Her hands tickle your ribs in a flash making your eyes bug as you try to keep your giggles at bay. You squirm incessantly in her lap, wishing you could break free but she had a strong hold around your waist.
Your skirt slid up your thighs in the process of all your wriggling, no longer hiding your want for her as your panties are noticeably soaked through.
“Oh, baby, you really are desperate for me.” She coos, eyes growing soft as she feigns a pout. “Poor baby.”
She skillfully undoes the pearly buttons on your white, flower-patterned blouse, sliding the thin material off your shoulders and onto the floor. Soft, warm hands palm your breasts, feeling your heartbeat beneath your skin before she makes you gasp by wickedly pinching your sensitive nipples.
She teases her fingers down further then and along the soaked cloth of your panties, drawing light circles over your throbbing, hidden clit. You whimper into her chocolate curls, a soft pathetic mewl, begging her for more as you perch wearily in her lap.
“What do you say?” she asks with a sharp tongue and pointed stare.
She weaves her arm around your hips, smoothing a palm over the curve of your ass and dragging your panties down in the process before seeking out your aching warmth once more. A well-manicured finger teases down the slick, puffy seam of you from behind, teasing and torturing you until she’s satisfied. She loves breaking you into little pieces and putting you back together.
“Please-” You gasp as your hips buck on their own accord, chasing her fingers for relief. “Please, Layla.”
The older woman’s painted lips tug into a sly smile, “That’s my good girl.”
Your world is consumed. Her brunette curls smell of lavender and spice. They tickle your cheek and senses as she plays your body like a well tuned piano. Her hold on you is immense. There’s never any doubt that she doesn’t adore you.
“Look at me, sweetheart.” Layla coos, grasping the back of your neck with her free hand as her other cups your searing mound. You jolt from the touch but do as she says, meeting her soft yet stoic expression with watery eyes.
She pins you with a firm stare as she slowly presses two fingers into your soaked core. You know better than to turn your gaze from her but your eyes flutter as she finally grants you the sweet relief you’ve been begging for.
“That’s my good girl,” Layla praises as she fills you to the hilt, knuckles grazing your puckered hole and claiming every inch of your cunt.
Deft fingers glide with prowess as a steady, toe curling rhythm is set. Your body trembles as a foggy bliss rolls into your mind. Your knees shake, desperately meeting her thrusts, wanting nothing more than to come around her fingers.
“You take what I give you, sweet girl.” Layla coos, nudging her nose against your cheek. She doesn’t like it when you get greedy. “You know that.”
One of your hands clutches the back of her chair while the other has her blouse in a death grip. A scolding is in your future but you could care less as you rock back onto her fingers chasing the pleasure she’s finally allowing.
Something heavy in your gut twists. The knot Layla began tying when she first got you onto her lap starts tightening. Your muscles ache, ready to collapse under the pressure when she gives you the word.
Just then, a quick succession of knocks rap on her door.
Your head whips up as Layla’s fingers go still. Ice courses through your veins freezing the searing wildfire that burns in your abdomen. You knew it was stupid to try anything at work. Besides the occasionally secretive kiss, you both kept things to a dull roar. No one knew about your relationship and you wanted it to stay that way.
“Shh. Be still.” Layla whispers, unfazed, as she cups her free hand along your jaw. “You trust me. Right?”
You nod in her tender hold, hips pressing just a bit harder into her palm. “Good girl.”
“Who is it?” Layla calls out. Your body jolts as her fingers begin moving again and you send her a bewildered look.
“Marc,” a gruff voice sounds from the other side of the door.
Shit — it was the CEO.
Marc Spector built this company from the ground up. He and Layla had been working together since almost the beginning. They explicitly trusted and respected one another even when they didn’t meet eye to eye.
You’d met Marc only once. It was a brief interaction as one of your coworkers showed you around on your first day. He was personable and made you feel welcome even though you were a lowly intern.
You thought he was handsome and could kill someone with his smile. His jet black quiff would curl on humid days when he forgot to gel it. It made you admire him even more for some reason.
“Come in.” She answers while holding your worried gaze with her own unwavering one.
Your heart jumps into your throat. “Layla, what’re doin-” you hiss, squirming to get free from her arms again.
“Remember your safe word.” she says, quickly just before Marc walks in.
“Layla, I was wonderin-” Marc starts as he steps into the office and instantly cuts himself off at the lewd display.
You can’t breathe. Shame and embarrassment flood your system. If the floor could open up, you’d gladly jump in.
Marc stands in awe. You couldn’t turn to face him but you spy his reflection in the darkened window and that’s more than enough. You don't know how you could ever look him in the eye after this.
“What’s this now?” He ponders, intrigue shaping his words as he steps closer, tapping his knuckles on Layla’s oversized desk.
“I was just rewarding her for doing such a good job,” Layla responds like she doesn’t have you propped in her lap with her fingers buried deep inside your cunt.
You see Marc nod in the reflection and take another step closer. Your body burns like red hot coals as you feel his eyes on your body mainly where Layla’s fingers slowly thrust into your shiny, slick opening.
“That right?” Marc questions with a curious tone as he rubs a hand along his rough five o’clock shadow.
“She’s so attentive and such a hard worker.” Layla praises, finally looking in your direction. “I had to show how much I appreciate her.”
Marc chuckles. It’s a deep huff of laughter that rumbles from his chest and it makes your insides melt. “Is she any good at helping relieve some stress?” he asks pensively while looking at your holes like he hasn’t eaten in days.
“She most certainly is,” Layla smirks, raising a sculpted brow before sliding a finger under your chin, tipping your face in toward her. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
Your heart drops into your stomach.
You’d been with Layla since the first day you started working, shared any and all free time together along with the inner workings of your bedroom. Explored each other’s bodies freely and with such passion. Falling to Layla’s feet came naturally to you and she made you feel complete; loved even.
You trusted her to push your limits whenever the time came but you didn’t think you’d ever be in this situation.
“Why don’t you show him how much you love being employed here, baby.” She dubiously insists, slowly nodding her head for you to comply.
You finally gather the courage to look over your shoulder.
Butterflies flutter wildly in your belly as you take in the devilishly handsome man. His hair is mused, like he’d been running a hand through it all day and his button up shirt is loose at the collar, exposing a column of tan skin with two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up exposing his muscular forearms. “Hey there, sweetheart.”
A nervous chortle bubbles up your throat at the nickname. Your insides turn to jelly; and your brain to mush. Your core can’t help but clench as the older man takes you in with a ravenous gaze.
“Oh, she likes that.” Layla quips upon feeling your pussy clamp down on her fingers.
“Does she now?” Marc croons, stepping up right behind you. He smooths his hands along the shape of you. His warmth feels good against your skin and you can’t help but moan when Layla curls her fingers along that spongy spot that makes you feel lightheaded.
“Damn, that’s a pretty pussy.” He drawls, crouching down behind your bent form. With your ass in the air, you already felt so exposed and now the owner of the company was getting a front row view of the most private parts of you.
Sticky, wet noises fill the room as Layla splays her fingers deep inside your velvet channel. You bite your lip to keep your moans at bay. So overstimulated and heated, you’re not sure how much more you can take.
“Want a taste?’ Layla asks, jogging you from your stupor.
Marc grunts in response. You look back in time to watch Layla feeding him her shiny, cream coated fingers. The debauched noise he makes while he licks and sucks her fingers clean has your heart falling into your lower half.
You meet his lust filled gaze as he stands. Layla’s fingers leave his lips with a pop, and he palms his hard length through his dark slacks. “You gonna show me how good you are at serving your superiors?”
A nervous whimper escapes from your throat at his question.
His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, lapping at some of your fallen cream as he pulls his cock out and gives it a languid tug. You watch dumbstruck as he pumps his length, from the obscenely thick base that’s littered with dark wiry hairs to a bulbous, desert blush tip that weeps in his hand after every twist.
“Is that a yes, sweetheart?” he questions.
A smirk lifts the corners of his mouth at your stupefied gaze. Marc raises a hand and grasps the back of your neck, moving your head in a crude up-down motion. “This is how you say, yes.”
Another deep chuckle burrows into your brain and makes you go even more dumb.
Fire ignites in your belly and races up your body, making your face burn. Your mouth bobs open and closed like a fish, wanting to answer him but you can’t even form the simplest word.
“She tends to go a bit brain dead when she gets overwhelmed.” Layla thankfully answers for you.
She thumbs your cheek. “But that pretty pussy of hers makes up for it.”
“You don’t say…” Marc quips before tapping his tip on your soaked folds. Your slick drips down your inner thighs showing that you would indeed make up for your lack of communication.
He notches the thick head past your dripping opening before slowly sinking into your cunt. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out, pressing his full length all the way and grinding the cut of his hips against your ass.
“God damn.” Marc grits, hissing through his teeth at the way you squeeze him.
You whimper from the immense stretch. It feels like his cock is burrowing a new space inside your body. “Layla. Too much–” You gasp, having never felt so full before. “So. Big.”
She cups her hands around your face, hushing your cries. “I know, baby. I know.”
Marc’s hips never falter. He plunges into your heat with an unyielding, merciless pace, pushing slick and cream from between your folds, making your belly twist in pleasurable pain.
His strong hands knead your fleshy hips, pulling you back on every brute shove, forcing you to take every inch he gives. “Such a good girl. Doin’ just what we say.”
Your core clenches that much tighter knowing you’re making them happy. “You love it don’t you, pretty girl?” His heavy balls slap against your exposed clit making you mewl and writhe in the combined hold they had on you.
Sticky, sweet bliss drowns your senses. You’re a wanton mess. A plaything between two beautiful gods as they have their fun..
You whine when Marc slows his rhythm, canting his hips so his cock stays buried deep. “I thought you were one of the best.” Marc sighs with a shake of his head, his curls bouncing with the movement. “But it seems you’re not as attentive as I thought.”
Your brow furrows as you look at him over your shoulder.
“I think it’s time to show your Boss how much you appreciate her.”
Marc moves quickly, dragging you out of Layla’s arms and down onto your knees in front of her spread legs. Layla quirks a brow at him.
“What? I wanted to see how attentive she really was.” Marc says, talking about you like you weren’t speared open on his heavy cock.
Layla pulls her dress up over her legs and spreads her thighs. Her panties looked much like your own, wet, sticky, and just begging to be removed.
“Go on. Show her how much you love being on your knees for her.” Marc commands. With a snap of his hips, he jolts your bones and forces your head between Layla’s thighs. “Eat your boss’s cunt.”
Heat flames your face at his words when a familiar hand curves around your jaw. Layla pulls her panties to the side and leads you gently, well as gently as she can while you’re being plowed from behind, to her slick folds.
She sighs as your tongue licks a long stripe from her weeping opening to her clit. You flick the tiny nub, drawing tight circles for a brief moment before sliding down her folds. You lap hungrily at her slit, freely licking into her tight hole and sliding your tongue in and out from her heat.
“There you go.” Layla coos down at you with a smile. She scratches her nails along your scalp making you purr against her clit. She grinds her cunt against your mouth, chasing her pleasure. Nothing made you happier than making Layla feel good. Your core throbs when she gasps and fucks her mound onto your tongue.
A rough, grating moan crawls from Marc’s chest as your cunt quivers and milks his length. “Such a good girl letting us use you like this.” He grits, slamming his hips harder into your ass and knocking your face steadily into Layla’s cunt. “Like you were made for it.”
Your core spasms at his words. You did love being on your knees for them. At their beck and call, wanting to be of service however they needed.
Marc lays his body along your spine, pressing his clothed chest against your bare back, and nuzzles his curved nose along your cheek. A large hand slinks around your hip and notches nimble fingers against your clit, swirling tight circles around the throbbing nub. “Wanna know all the pretty noises you make when you come.”
“Oh, they’re just the sweetest.” Layla moans, breathlessly as your lips lock around her clit. You suckle the tiny nub until
she’s digging her fingers into your hair, writhing and gasping.
Marc groans at the sight of his business partner unfurling with pleasure. His breath is hot in your ear and he crowds you even more, leaving no chance of escape.
“Come on, girl. Be good and come for us.” Marc commands, shifting his hips until his throbbing tip grazes that hidden spot behind your clit.
With Layla humping your face and Marc sheathing his cock further inside you with every shove, you’re pushed to the edge before you can even think. Your cream coated lips fall open with a feverish wail as your body locks tight.
Your muscles shake uncontrollably as you careen off the edge. Your soaked core clenches like a fist, forcing Marc’s pace to stutter and drag him along with you. He lets loose a dark roar when his balls draw up and he fucks your trembling core to the brim with his thick seed.
His cock twitches between your folds, pumping you full with every last drop. “God damn, you weren’t kidding. She more than made up for going all dumb eariler.” He slowly eases from your core with a hiss and tucks his half hard length back into his slacks.
Your head is still reeling from the powerful orgasm and Marc’s compliment makes you just that much more lightheaded. Thank goodness you were already on the ground.
“Oh you’re making such a mess.” Layla gasps when she sees the thick river of white that runs down your thighs. Your knees ache from being on the hard carpet for so long but the pain is forgotten as the pair crowds over you.
You whine as Layla and Marc drag their fingers through the hot stickiness and press them into your mouth.
You gag heavily around the two sets of fingers, tears pricking your eyes as they cover your tongue in the combined spend. “Good girl. Clean up the mess you made.” Marc nods slowly, heavy lidded with a deep moan of satisfaction as you choke and sputter while Layla proudly smiles down at you. “Did so well for me; for us.”
She shares a curious look with Marc before turning her gaze back to you and thumbs the last bit of white into your mouth.
“Might need to borrow her again sometime soon.” Marc comments as they help you onto your feet. “You know how stressed I can get.”
Your legs are shaky, like a newborn doe, as Layla brushes down your crumpled skirt while Marc helps you back into your blouse, securely buttoning you up.
“We’ll see about that.” Layla responds as she gathers you into her arms and sits back down on her chair, tucking your sleepy head under her chin.
“I’ll see you ‘round the office, sweetheart.” He raises a hand and tenderly grazes your dewy temple with his knuckles.
As he sees himself out, he winks at Layla and she smirks before he shuts the door leaving the two of you in peaceful silence.
As you relax in Layla’s arms, burrowing yourself into her safe warmth, you notice through sleepy eyes that her monitor is still on. The email she was typing when you dropped off the paperwork lights up the screen.
𝚃𝙾: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 (𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸𝚗𝚌)
𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: 𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 - 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏
𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.
𝙻𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚊 𝙴𝚕-𝙵𝚊𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚢
𝙲𝙵𝙾 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸𝚗𝚌
*evil laughter* they were in cahoots the entire time!
feel free to scream at me -> 💌
follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!
#layla el faouly#marc spector#Layla el faouly x reader#layla el faouly x reader x marc spector#marc spector x reader#oscar isaac#may calamawy
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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
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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
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After much internal debating and ✨Thirsting✨ (thank you @johnny-simpfinger my partner in filth for letting me yell at you about my Thots 😘) I've decided to add Jonathan Levy x Reader x Mira Phillips to my writing list!
(Yes I know about Mira's flaws. If I can write for Blue Jones I can write for her ✌️)
(I'll also be adding Layla El Faouly x Reader x Marc Spector/Steven Grant to my writing list as well!)
Like I know this is an Oscar Isaac character writing blog, but I wouldn't be opposed to writing for these new dynamics 😍 threesomes are my kryptonite 😩 and I'm really excited about writing for these characters!
#so excited!#☺️💙#the cryptid posts#Jonathan Levy#scenes from a marriage#mira phillips#Oscar Isaac#jessica chastain#may calamawy#layla el faouly#jonathan levy x reader#Jonathan Levy x Reader x Mira Phillips#layla el faouly x reader x steven grant#layla el faouly x reader x marc spector#layla el faouly x reader#marvel cinematic universe
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not him
summary: you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows.
pairing: marc spector x reader
rating: angst
warning: drunk kiss, one-sided pining, (kinda) cheating, angst, feelings (?)
w/c: 2.7k
a/n: sometimes you just need to feel needed
part two
----
Steven is the type of guy who has no idea what to do with his hands. But when it comes to you, he’s all hands on deck. He’s touchy and you think it’s partially because he’s touch-starved.
And you are too, but in a different way.
Where he craves for touch, you simply cannot process the feeling. It’s foreign. Overwhelming. You’re just not used to it.
But you pull through it because you like him.
And he has no idea.
Steven Grant, the most clueless man in London, gently grasps your hand like you’re not about to keel over from the mere presence of him. You never imagined yourself harboring a massive crush on your best friend, but it’s happened. Or, it’s been happening.
Steven sees you as a safe and reliable friend – one that wouldn’t get the wrong idea if he were to cuddle behind you or play with your hair. And he’s right, in a way. You do understand exactly what his intentions are. And that is nothing.
You’re one to never get your hopes up. Preferring to expect the worst so you’re never disappointed in the end. So you’re fine just being there for him because you’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.
He’s adorable really. At first glance you may think he’s a quiet bookworm, looking for a nice spot against the wall to live out the rest of his days, but really, if you give him a chance, he’ll talk for hours. And you’ll listen.
He has a higher-pitched voice than you might’ve expected. His British lit takes it up a notch and you think it’s endearing. He can go on and on about different Egyptian mythological stories, telling each one with details that you swear can only be known by those who were actually there experiencing them.
His eyes light up with a sparkle of his own that you crave to see whenever he’s around. It’s that type of look that spreads his passion and curiosity to whoever's around. You’ve never experienced passion like that until you met him.
And you want more. You’ll always want more. But…it’s too late.
Steven is taken. No – actually he’s married. Well, let’s take a couple of steps back, he’s actually two guys: Steven and Marc.
Marc, the American pessimist, is actually married to a woman named Layla and has been for years now. He just decided to show himself out of the blue one day and now he’s part of Steven. Or he always was a part of Steven, just a hidden one.
Steven, the romantic he is, quickly clicked with Layla and has been chasing after her like a love-sick puppy ever since. And much to Marc’s displeasure, he’s formed a bond with her.
“...And we kissed, can you believe it?” There’s that sparkle again. “I swear to you, she has the softest, most wonderful lips.” He drones on and on about Layla and you can tell it’s all genuine and innocent, which makes it so much worse. “She’s strong and brave, and possibly the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met.”
She’s…perfect.
The back of your neck prickles with heat as he continues, “I know I’ve only known her for a couple of months, but I think – no, I know that I love her.” There’s a tingle at the back of your throat that tightens at his words, threatening to burn your eyes with tears if you’re not careful. You swallow it back, jaw clenched to control yourself.
After a moment, his warm brown eyes bore deeply into yours, thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. You force a small smile at him, holding back the urge to pull your hands away from his. “That’s great, Steven. I’m so happy for you.”
You’ve never been so jealous.
—
Turns out you weren’t the only one unhappy with the news. Apparently, Marc punched Steven in the jaw when it happened (meaning he technically punched himself), telling him to stay away from his wife, but, of course, that didn’t stop Steven and Layla from seeing each other after.
So that’s how you formed an unexpected friendship with Steven’s other half. It’s nothing like Steven and Layla, you are simply just friends. Disgruntled friends at that. Drinking buddies if you want to be more accurate.
You’ve shared a case of beer with Marc countless times. Steven sleeps early so as soon as 10 pm rolls around, you’re stuck with Marc. Well ‘stuck’ is a bit harsh, but being that Steven is your preferred company at any time of the day, it’s true.
But you’ll admit, it’s not that bad.
He actually talks to you, sometimes. You were surprised the first time you got him to open up about how he and Layla were married, but separated. Apparently, being the righteous man he is, he suddenly made the executive decision to move away for her safety, worrying that his work as an avatar could put her in imminent danger. No wonder Layla was less than jazzed to find out about his life in London.
You knew a little bit about Marc and the Egyptian god, Konshu, but because it has never really directly affected your life, you’ve never fully believed it. The random bouts when Steven has disappeared, however, have been worrying, but Marc filled in the gaps pretty well while making sure to refrain from sharing any sensitive information. You realize Marc probably doesn’t have many friends he can trust with any information at all, so you’re willing to stay and listen like you would for Steven. And it’s fine. You’re content with the dynamic.
Marc is just different. More serious, less…gentle.
But don’t get it wrong, Marc can be enjoyable, even funny sometimes. Sometimes. He has this dry sense of humor that you never expected from him and sometimes it feels like he’s actually engaging in conversation instead of him talking at you. And when he’s in a really good mood, he even flirts with you for the hell of it. You never take it seriously, but that is something Steven doesn’t like – and he hasn’t even seen the half of it. You brush it off, believing Steven is just being protective while Marc instigates as much as possible to get back at him.
Tonight is one of those good nights. It started normally: Steven went to bed, Marc got out of bed, and you’re now letting old episodes of a sitcom run in the background as you trade stories about the horrible drivers you’ve encountered in the past.
“ – Then the guy stops in the middle of the road, green light, and everything, and opens his trunk because he wanted to change his shirt!”
Marc’s eyebrows are high on his head as he listens animatedly. “Right there?” His hand is wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer that’s half-drained already. He’s on his fifth, you’re on your third. It’s one of the heavier nights, but neither one of you mentions anything.
“Yes! Right there!” You smile against the mouth of your bottle at the sound of his deep chuckle. It’s so different from Steven’s, but you still enjoy hearing it. Maybe even strive to hear it. You take a deep swallow of your drink then set it down on the crowded coffee table. It’s littered with books, bottles, and a few remotes for various parts of the tv.
“Did you drive around him?”
“No, he was taking up two lanes with his crooked-ass park job! Oh my god, people were so pissed, honking and yelling at the guy – He didn’t even care!” You like him like this, light and open, like everything in his past has evaporated off his shoulders. You can see prominent smile lines at the corner of his eyes as he laughs at the story. Sometimes you wonder who put them there. Steven or Marc. Or was it a joint effort?
The energy in the room dies down as you close the story, but it doesn’t bother you. You just wait for him to continue the conversation, to do his part. That’s how this works: you speak, then he speaks, then you go again.
But he doesn’t, not this time.
You look at him, expecting a dumb question or controversial take on something like usual, but he just stares right back, eyes half-lidded. You’ve never seen that look before.
There’s never any real silence when you and Marc hang out – and even when there is, there really isn’t. That’s why the TV is always on, so you never have space to think. Like really think. It’s like having music play as you eat dinner: the noise plays over the sounds of obnoxious chewing and utensils scraping against plates.
You need that sound. Without it, you wouldn’t be able to sit here next to him. But sometimes it’s not enough. This time it’s not enough.
This silence feels different, even as the muffled voice of the TV drones in the background. It’s unnerving and it settles around you, like fine dust over furniture.
“Is that a new shirt or somethin’?” He sits up slightly against the arm of the couch, eyes sweeping over your body, “I swear, I’ve never seen your cleavage from this angle before.”
“Marc!” You cross your arms over your chest, “Stop looking you perv!” Your face blooms with heat, though it’s already quite warm from the alcohol you’ve been drinking. He has a teasing grin on his face, but his eyes convey something else.
“Mhm…You wore that for Stevey didn’t you?” His words come out in loops, slurred slightly from the drinking challenge you had earlier in the evening.
“And?” Your ears burn as you confirm his suspicions, “What if I did?”
One of his eyebrows lifts in amusement, “You know he’s in love with my wife, don’t you?”
You frown at him, “Yes, Marc. I’m aware.” Your hand reaches for your bottle of beer if only to have something to look at other than those familiar eyes of his. The label is starting to rub off from the perspiration on the glass.
“Then why do you keep trying?” You feel exasperated. Why do you keep trying? You know Steven’s feelings and intentions, and none of them relate to you. You’re his best friend and he’s…well, he’s taken. You’ve never wanted to risk losing your friendship with him, but at the same time, you’ve never lost hope.
“I… don’t know.” Your skin itches. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. Usually, you and Marc would spend a few hours taking turns talking about nothing then you’d call an Uber home and see Steven in the morning.
“Well…He’s an idiot.”
“What –”
Marc sits up, body almost leaning into your space, “Steven has no idea what’s right in front of him.”
“Marc,”
A hand catches yours and you’re thrown back to that day when Steven told you his feelings for Layla.
You are sitting in the exact same position on the couch as that day: you and him, hand in hand and face to face. But this is different. This time Steven’s mouth is telling you exactly what you want to hear.
“You’re beautiful.” But it’s not him.
Marc’s gaze searches your face for a reaction, but all you can do is stare back and look into those soft brown eyes. They have that sparkle. The same look you’ve longed to be directed at you since you met Steven.
You almost give in to that look, wanting to soak in the eagerness flashing in his eyes, but you don’t. You try to take your hands from his hold but he pulls you closer instead. His face is barely a few inches away from yours.
“We shouldn’t…” Your voice is low in a mere whisper. Like you’re sharing a secret.
He smells like him, and he should, you suppose, but it’s still odd to think about how Steven and Marc share a body while being completely different people.
His eyes are different though. His brows sit lower, almost grazing against his dark lashes, infinitely more intense than Steven’s curious look. He’s more alert, or at least, less tired than Steven. And somehow, Steven’s sleepless eye bags disappear when Marc takes control.
But he also looks at you differently. At first, he didn’t look at you at all. He was standoffish, uninterested, and unimpressed. But now, his eyes bore into you and pin you in place. He’s more than looking at you, he’s devouring you. And you like it.
“We shouldn’t…” He echoes your words almost like he’s agreeing, but his eyes flit down to your parted lips directly contradicting your shared sentiment. “But I want to.”
“I-...” He follows your tongue as it pokes out and wets your lower lip nervously, his eyes are nearly glazed over with desire. His hand cups your jaw gently and he slowly tilts your face to look at him. You lean into his touch, craving the feeling of his calloused skin against yours.
Your eyes flutter closed as he leans in, but the kiss never comes.
Instead, a soft sigh brushes your mouth as he holds you close, barely a few centimeters from meeting your lips.
He whispers low with his eyes trained on your parted lips, voice strained with desperation and need, “Please…let me kiss you, sweetheart.” He sounds so broken, yet so sure of this. Like he’s been waiting for this his whole life. You let out a small whimper at his words, unable to hold in how much you want him. His forehead rests against yours, “Tell me you need it as much as I do.”
You attempt to push against him, to capture his lips with yours, but he doesn’t let you. His hand keeps you just far enough to keep you from what you want. “Please.” You beg. Rather than giving in, he parts even further from you and you’re met with that hungry look of his once more.
“Say it.” He sounds so serious, his voice low and rough, but you can tell he wants it as much as you do. He needs this. He needs to hear it.
“I-I want it.” Your hands come up to cradle his face, “I want you to kiss me, Marc Spector. I need you.” The last word is barely audible as you crowd closer to him, nose nudging against his as you lean in.
You feel yourself melt against him as his lips meet yours, warm, soft, and bitter from the beer. There’s an unexplainable feeling that zips up your spine when he kisses you back, hungrily moving his mouth against yours.
You didn’t know a kiss could feel this good.
There’s a push and pull as you move against each other. As the kiss deepens with desire it’s abated by a softened touch as light as a whisper. You love the small sighs he lets out when you sweetly pull back, letting him chase your lips for softer, more playful nips. And then the deeper sounds when you’re flush against him, eagerly drinking him in.
By now, you’ve been pulled onto his lap, legs straddling comfortably over his. His chest rumbles with a groan as your tongue brushes against his, desperately taking in his intoxicating taste. You lean further into him, needing to feel his body against yours.
Your hands drift from his jaw into the soft curls of his hair, tugging gently at the ends, if only to hear that breathless groan of his once more. His hands wrap around your waist and drop to squeeze at your hips, holding you closer as if you aren’t already fully against him.
At some point, you have to break the kiss, if only for a second of air. You look at each other breathing heavily, wrapped around one another, unwilling to part any further.
Silence hangs in the air, but it’s light. Barely even there.
You look at him, and he looks right back, lips swollen with love, or at least the adjacent.
You let out a breath, more like a sigh of relief, when you see it: that sparkle. It’s still there.
#marc spector#marc spector x reader#marc spector x you#steven grant#steven grant x reader#moon knight#steven grant x layla el faouly
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these spot the difference games are getting harder nowadays 🤨
#moon knight#moon knight thoughts#Steven grant#marc Spector#jake lockley#mr. knight#oscar isaac#moonknight#marvel#mcu#marvel’s moon knight#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#khonshu#Taweret#layla el faouly#puppies#moon knight series
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episode 6 of moon knight review
that is all
#moon knight#moon knight spoilers#the bisexual panic I felt was unparalleled#marc spector#steven grant#layla el faouly#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#layla el faouly x reader#rambles
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Moon Knight (2022)
Episode Two: Summon The Suit
With little time to react, Steven is thrust into a war of the gods as a mysterious partner arrives.
Two years ago today.
April 6th, 2022
#oscar isaac#steven grant#mr. knight#steven grant x reader#khonshu#marc spector#marc sector x reader#moon knight#may calamawy#layla el faouly#layla el faouly x reader#marvel#mcu#marvel mcu#disney#disney+
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I said, that's my baby, and I'm really proud
#steven grant#marvel#mcu#moon knight#jake lockley#marc spector#layla el faouly#mcu moon knight#mcu mk#moonknight#steven grant x reader#memes#lol#oscar isaac
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LAYLA EL-FAOULY IS MAKING HER COMIC BOOK DEBUT!!!
#marvel#marvel comics#marvel cinematic universe#mcu#disney+#disney#disney plus#moon knight#steven grant#jake lockley#marc spector#layla el faouly#scarlet scarab#taweret#may calamawy#Konshu#Oscar Isaac#scarlet scarab x reader#layla el faouly x reader#moon knight x reader#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockely x reader#ramen-flavored
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18+ only — mdni
Layla and Marc would be so tender with you. Especially knowing it was your first time they’d take it extra slow. Learn every curve of your body, find what touches makes your body purr, and which make you tremble with bliss.
They’d be loving, doting teachers too. Layla would be on her knees next to you as she shows you how to go down on Marc. She’d hold his cock for you as you kiss the swollen tip and whisper sinful praise as you swallow him down.
She’d hold you tight as Marc eats you out like a man possessed. The curl of his tongue along your folds would make you arch and drive your hips against his face desperate for more and Layla would relish in your pleasure filled sobs.
Layla would smile down at you as you take your place between her thighs. She’d thumb the apple of your cheek as you lay your head against her open thigh and gaze at her soaked petals. She’d nod and encourage you to have your fill of her, taste every inch before you curiously push a finger into her warmth.
“Here try this. She really loves it.” Marc would offer as he kneels behind you splaying his chiseled chest against your back.
He’d press one of his thick fingers into his wife’s pussy and direct your own to a spot you never knew existed.
“Marc…” Layla hisses as he curls his finger under yours and prods the muscle behind her clit.
You watch fascinated as her pussy blossoms. Arousal slips from her core and puddles beneath her leaving a shiny stain on the bed.
Marc’s sand paper jaw scrapes your cheek, “Keep focusing on that spot and she’ll come so hard. Then we’ll get to clean her up together.”
this has been sitting in my drafts as inspo for my au! layla x babysitter x marc series. idk maybe some feedback/horny screaming will help motivate me to update the series. 🙃
#layla el faouly#marc spector#layla el faouly x reader x marc spector#layla el faouly x reader#marc spector x reader#moon knight#alt universe#may calamawy#oscar isaac
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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 🏳️🌈
#fawpride2023#steven grant x reader#moon knight#marc spector x reader#moon knight smut#layla el faouly x reader#layla el faouly x you#jake lockley x reader#layla el faouly x reader x Steven grant#moon knight x you#moon knight fanfiction#pride2023#bisexual#moon knight x reader#steven grant
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When your tinder date turns out to be a dumpster fire of a person, your evening is rescued by a handsome stranger.
Drive
Need (Driver x F!Reader | Explicit | 600)
He’s quiet, even when he’s fucking you.
Blade Runner 2049
Interlinked (Officer K x F!Reader | Mature | 1.9K)
Stepping in to help K is instinct, but what comes after is a choice, one that’s easy to make.
Halo
Everything They Made Me (John 117 x Makee l Explicit l 1.7K)
How weak must she be that a simple kindness undoes her so? (A missing scene from episode 8.)
♡Main Masterlist♡
Thank you @callsignhurricane for my beautiful headers!
#john 117 x makee#john x makee#john 117/makee#master chief x makee#master chief#makee#halo fanfic#halo#masterlist#moon knight#layla el faouly x you#layla el faouly x reader x marc spector#layla el faouly x reader#layla el faouly#marc spector x reader x layla el faouly#marc spector x female reader#marc spector x you#marc spector x reader#marc spector#miles miller x female reader#miles miller x reader#miles miller x you#harrison knott x reader#harrison knott x you#harrison knott imagine#sierra six x reader#sierra six x you#sierra six imagine#court gentry x reader#court gentry x you
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Do we've heard about Jonathan and Mira and their other but what are your thots on the moon boys and Layla and how obsessed they are with theirs
👀
So I think that you would definitely be the mediator between Layla and Marc (mostly telling Marc to get his head out of his ass while comforting Layla and giving her someone to talk to) and she likes watching you and Steven with his almost frantic softDom energy as he fucks you and she loves sharing French poetry with you as you try to decipher what they're saying, and with Jake they love cooking together as you read from the cookbook or sit on the counter as the designated "taste tester".
They are fiercely protective of you and are willing to fight the Ennead themselves to keep you safe and happy.
#Steven Grant#Marc Spector#Jake Lockley#moon boys headcanon#steven grant headcanon#marc spector headcanon#Jake Lockley headcanon#moon knight headcanon#moon knight#layla el faouly x reader#layla el faouly headcanon#layla el faouly x reader x steven grant#layla el faouly x reader x marc spector#layla el faouly#Oscar Isaac#may calamawy#oscar isaac headcanons#wicked wednesday#the cryptid answers
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not him - 2
summary: marc has had his eye on you for a while now. he's seen your interactions with steven and has held himself back from taking you for himself, but what happens after he finally makes a move?
pairing: marc spector x reader
rating: more angst
cw: pining (really intense pining), jealousy, miscommunication, mentions of past kiss.
wc: 2.7k
part one
[author's note is at the end of the chapter to avoid chapter spoilers!]
---
Marc’s POV
It’s your laugh, that soothing, sweet sound – so inviting that he wants it to soak right into his skin. When he hears it, he holds it close to him, making sure he doesn’t miss a single note. Letting it replay in his head until the next time he sees you.
Marc has never considered himself a funny guy – or hadn’t for a while. He never had a reason to joke around, a reason to smile or laugh, but then there was you.
So now he tries his best to incite that laughter, if only for a mere taste of your sweetness.
He’s equally addicted to that view. The sight of soft lips parting into a bright smile, your shoulders shaking with each stilted breath, your eyes glistening with unerupted joy; a bliss that he’s craved to know since the day his brother passed. And it’s genuine.
Everything about you is genuine.
Then, when you come down from the laughter, you look up at him with a ghost of a giggle still thrumming in the air, still tugging at the corner of your mouth. He can’t help but stare back, wishing this moment could last forever.
It’s just you and him, nursing sweating bottles of beer on his ratty old couch, the TV running quietly in the background as you unconsciously lean closer as the night progresses. He plunges into that gaze wrapped in innocent moments and admiration, a look that whispers unspoken sentiments and unattainable promises.
You are looking at him, yes, but you also see him.
He feels it wrap around him, a warmth that reminds him he’s worth being around, that you want to be there with him. It sparks a revelation within himself that if he could make you laugh, or even look at him the way you do, maybe…being him is ok.
And maybe he wants to stay.
But then there’s that smile – no, not your usual amused grin or the bashful one he attempts to lure out whenever he gains enough confidence to tell you how pretty you look – the cherry-red lie that’s specially curated for Steven.
It’s a mask you use to preserve your friendship, to convince the oblivious man that you’re happy for him even when your side of the bond is crumbling, struggling to stand up straight.
The first time Marc saw that smile was from the reflection in his apartment.
He usually doesn’t stir or interfere while Steven is fronting, unless there’s an emergency of course, but there was a pang of energy that woke him up. And now he’s wondering if it was you.
He watched broodily from the fish tank; jaw clenched tight as Steven sat in front of you holding your hands in his. He knows he shouldn’t be jealous, but he can’t help the ire burning low in his chest as he watches you position yourself closer to Steven, eager to hear what he has to say.
Marc’s eyes drift from your hopeful face to your joined hands.
He wonders how that feels: to hold your smaller hands in his, to squeeze them just so as to remind him that you’re real and there with him, to feel you squeeze back and run the soft pads of your fingers over his callouses.
Your softness smoothing over his jagged ends.
You like it – the touch. Steven’s touch.
He can see it.
But you’ve always liked it when Steven gives you physical affection, even if it was all platonic. You’d lean into him, practically craving it, eagerly presenting yourself to his hand. And he’d give it to you, merely enjoying the closeness you offer him – nothing more.
Your eyes are wide, and you lean in, listening intently, but at the same time, you’re not hearing a thing. Marc can see that you’re lost in Steven, a feeling he’s often had around you.
The giddy comfort you felt from his touch instantly dissolves as he continues to speak, “And we kissed…” You lean back from him, quickly covering your reaction with a blank expression. Marc can see right through it.
Needless to say, Marc also isn’t too happy hearing about Steven’s escapades with his estranged wife; He’s always been protective of Layla, but now more than ever. Layla had once been his rock, keeping him grounded as life attempted to sweep him away. She was the only person he trusted for a while, the only one he could lean on and hold whenever he wanted to give up.
Because of that, he left.
Too much of a great thing can only lead to a horrible ending.
Right?
He convinced himself he did it because he didn’t want her to get involved in his life of violence, of his life as an avatar. She was always getting dragged into business that wasn’t hers, used as bait to lure him out of the shadows, and Khonshu was starting to hint at making her his next avatar.
That is a reason, a sound reason, but he can admit now that that wasn’t the main reason. At some point, Marc realized could never love her the way she wanted him to.
When he first felt it, he couldn’t shake it. He was forced to face it until it utterly consumed his thoughts, until he could taste it hanging from each word, turning every whisper into a sour void. He felt unworthy of her affections and ashamed that he continued to take and take, drinking in every last drop of warmth she could supply. Anything to numb that looming darkness that threatens to drag him under the bloody viscous waves of his past.
And all he could give in return was surface-level words and cool kisses. Guilt dripped from his embrace and soaked against her soft skin, and he knew he had to pull away.
Steven, the lovesick puppy, was completely oblivious to what he was inviting her back into: danger, violence, and an unspoken truth.
Marc should be jealous that his wife and alter are continuing to fraternize behind his back, or angry that Steven went against his wishes and welcomed her back into his life, but he’s not. Mostly, he’s nervous to face what he wasn’t strong enough to do, scared that he’ll continue to push it away until it swallows him whole.
Then there’s you.
Your eyes are glassy and empty as you nod robotically as Steven rambles, lost in his own words. “...the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met.” Your hands attempt to retreat from his and Steven doesn’t notice, but he does.
The audacity of Steven to talk about this stuff to your face astounds him. How can a man who shares his body be so clueless? So stupid to not see what’s right in front of him, offering herself for any ounce of attention he shows.
“I love her.”
And there he sees your heart shatter.
“That’s great, Steven. I’m so happy for you.”
—
All he can do is stare back, eyes taking in your swollen lips and wrinkled clothes. Your bodies breathe together, catching a breath as you process what just happened. There’s a voice in the back of his head urging him to pull you back in, to drink the ambrosia of your lips until you melt against him and beg for more, while he still has the chance. But he knows that if he were to move the spell would be broken.
And he was right.
When the stare breaks so does the moment. You clumsily slip off of his lap and sit back on your side of the couch. His hand hovers over your figure as you move away from him, a ghost of the touch he once had on you, desperate to stop you from leaving him. Fingers grip painfully into his palms as they curl into a fist of frustration and loss.
You both sit there for a second. It’s easier to think when your bodies are pressed against each other. When you aren’t tempted to lean in for one more kiss.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, he wasn’t supposed to get this far.
Ever since meeting you, he’s tried his best to keep his distance, to watch you pine for Steven from afar as he harbored his own longing for you. Marc never believed he deserved it, you, always taking three steps back before he could touch a perfect thing. Before he could ruin what was already breaking.
He’s supposed to be detached from real life, from anything outside of his work. He’s convinced himself that he was okay with letting you go, even promising Steven he would give him complete control of the body once he was done with Khonshu. But now he doesn’t think he can. He can’t leave you.
Marc finally builds the courage to look over at you.
Your eyes are closed, not squeezed shut, just closed. The soft glow of the TV pools over your body. You could probably feel his eyes on you so you begin to talk.
“I’m confused.”
“Confused.” He repeats with a soft nod, letting the word settle in his mind.
He doesn’t know what else to say. Of course, you’re confused, this whole night has been a series of bold actions and heated words. One second you’re having a pity party at your crush’s flat and the next you’re crawling on top of his alter. You still haven’t had time to really go through your emotions.
“You like me…” You finally look at him, brows furrowed as you navigate through your thoughts.
“I do.”
“And I like Steven…” He frowns at that but nods. You both know it, that’s how you ended up here in the first place. “..And Steven likes Layla, but you’re still…married?”
He sighs, “It’s been over for months, sweetheart.”
“Well, aren’t we a group of lovers?” You joke.
Neither one of you laughs.
Deep brown eyes meet yours, “I meant what I said. Steven is blind if he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”
“I-I don’t know where to go from here.”
He places his hand on top of yours. And you let him.
“Stay…” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, didn’t mean to say anything at all, but when he’s with you, he feels out of control.
He sees the little furrow of your brows as you digest the implications of his suggestion. Stay and forget about the consequences. Stay and pretend it's just us. Stay and let me love you.
“Marc –”
He interrupts you before you can finish your thought.
“For tonight.” He just isn’t sure he’d be able to take what you were about to say. If you could stay like this, even for one more night, just you and him and the memory of that embrace, he thinks, maybe he’ll be okay. Even if you leave him in the morning. Even if you run away from what could have been. “It’ll be easier to understand after a night of rest.”
You stare solemnly at the edge of the couch, “Yeah.” For a moment he holds some hope that he’ll be able to hold you tonight and sleep like everything is right in the world. But then you gently slip your hand out from under his. “I should probably go though.” His palm burns. You push yourself off the couch in search of your discarded jacket and shoes.
“You can crash here,” He feels desperate. You’re slipping from his hands and he’s frantically grasping at the evading warmth. “It’s late and there’s more than enough space in this flat.” He wants to reach out again but he’s afraid you’ll reject his touch this time.
“Steven has work tomorrow morning.” You say sheepishly as you slip an arm into your jacket. Of course, you’d know Steven’s schedule. “He needs to wake up early…and it would be awkward to find me on the couch.” As if he’d let you sleep anywhere but in his arms.
“Ok, but I should walk you home.”
You tug at the bottom of your coat, flattening it onto your body. “It’s fine,” You look back at him, hovering by the door, “Really, I’m fine.” He doesn’t miss how you’ve switched from talking about the situation to yourself.
He murmurs your name, not knowing what he can say to make you stay.
“Marc.” You echo back, voice soft and – tired. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
—
“Whot was that?”
Steven didn’t wake up for work the next day. In fact, he didn’t ‘wake up’ at all. Marc did. He woke up around 1 pm with a throbbing headache and a loud, berating British man yelling at him from the inside out.
After you left, he sat there in silence and moped, hoping you’d stop in the middle of your commute home and realize you wanted to come back to him. You didn’t. Once he received the ‘got home safe.’ text from you, he decided to drink whatever was left in the fridge before passing out. He’s regretting it now.
“Steven, please.” He presses a hand over his forehead, trying to soothe the ache as he blearily stares at the mess of empty bottles from last night. “Not right now.”
“Not right now?! You snogged my best friend!”
“Oh, come on.” Marc tugs on a shirt before making his way to the bathroom. In the small cheap mirror, Steven stares right back at him, a disgruntled glare burning right into his skin, “You weren’t going to do it.” That makes him blush.
“If–If I had known…”
Marc tries to ignore him, splashing some cool water on his face to wake himself up. How can Steven even complain about it when – “Wait – how did you even find out?”
“I saw her…” He says uneasily, “pulling away.”
Marc groans into the towel as he dries off, “You were there? How much did you see?”
“It’s not like I planned for it! I’m not a perve or anything, I was just…pushed to the front all of a sudden!” Shit, he must’ve gotten too excited. “I tried to leave as soon as I got there.”
“For the record, I wasn’t planning on any of that happening either.”
“Why would you do it then? You’re going to confuse her.”
“Confuse her? Steven,” He shakes his head, “She’s obviously in love with you and you still wave whatever weird relationship you have with my wife in her face.”
“Well, hold on a minute–”
“Go back to sleep, Steven.” Marc walks over to the couch, longingly staring at the spot he was in last night. “I gotta clean up.”
–
Your POV
Your hands nervously fiddle with your phone, opening, closing, and reopening your messaging app. You stare at the text you sent last night:
‘got home safe.’
You actually got home 15 minutes before sending the text, but he doesn’t need to know it took you that long to type out 3 words. It’s crazy, you tell yourself, how many texts you drafted, edited, and deleted before hitting send. What if he doesn’t want to hear from you again? What if Steven gets it instead of him? What if he thinks you’re being clingy just because you shared one kiss? One, blissful, enamoring, show-stopping, kiss?
He hasn’t answered it yet.
Read 1:56 am
Which is fine. You’re fine. It’s only 3 pm and Steven is probably still at work, so he hasn’t had a chance to text you back. It’s fine.
You hate the way your heart skips a beat when a typing bubble comes up. Fuck, did he see your pathetic attempts to text him earlier? You quickly exit the app, not wanting to expose yourself if he sends the text and you immediately ‘read’ it. The phone vibrates abruptly in your hand as a banner drops from the top of your screen.
‘Hey 🤠! –’ Already from the emoji use you can tell it’s Steven, ‘–Wanna meet up for tea ~4:30? Let’s go t…’
You let out a sigh. You know you shouldn’t feel disappointed. Steven is your best friend and you love hanging out with him, but there’s this anticipating giddiness when you think about Marc. The feeling you used to have about Steven…
It’s crazy how one kiss can flip your life so completely. Not just that, but how fast you went from mourning the chance of one relationship to melting into the development of another.
You open up the conversation. You really should talk to him.
‘okay 🫡 i’ll meet you there'
---
a/n: sorry this took so long (literal months). i had half of this written for a while and was so sure i'd get it done within a few weeks, but then I let it sit in my drive until I picked it up TODAY and finished it lmao.
so most of this chapter delves into marc's thoughts before and during what happened in the first part, some of steven's thoughts + the aftermath of the kiss. i know a lot of ppl wanted a confrontation between the reader and steven, but I didn't want to rush into it when we don't even know how marc really feels ab the reader :3
i thought it would be interesting if steven found out about the kiss through marc (and I also didn't know how to write out the reader admitting it to him) bc that's how marc found out ab steven breaking the readers heart. i also wanted to explore how the reader is grappling with her feelings towards the two guys!
i def want to write more, but I can't promise when the next part will be out. I'm a notoriously inconsistent and SLOW writer, so bare with me. thank you for all the support on my angsty journey and I hope you enjoyed this chapter <3
#marc spector x reader#marc spector#steven grant x reader#steven grant#moon knight#angst#steven grant x layla el faouly
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The Climax Problem
Literally thought that this was so funny and I wanted to make it a small story lol
Also, this was basically from this post by @faretheeoscar
This is the link to the original post! ^^
Gender neutral Y/n x Steven Grant
Warning: 18+ Mentioning of climaxing (aka: c*mming), some inappropriate jabs here and there
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
We all know of how innocent Steven is and crazy for you. But him releasing during a make out session? That's crazier.
You cupped his face as you kissed him passionately. Your tongue fighting with his and moaning into each other's mouths. You gently pulled his curls as he moaned from the action.
The passion needed to die down as you needed to go to work.
"I gotta go, baby." You pecked his lips and he responded with a small whines.
"A- Alright, love! I'll be waiting for you!" He waved goodbye to you as you waved back and closed the door.
Steven sighed as he looked at his pants. The noticeable bulge in his pants as he unzipped them and revealed a patch of his seed in his boxers.
"Bloody hell..." Steven mumbled to himself.
He got up and took off his pants and boxers to the dirty laundry. He walked to the restroom and looked at the mirror.
"Why do I even do that..." He massaged his temples.
"Looks like someone has a hard time to stop cumming." Marc looked at Steven in the mirror with his little smirk.
"Look, I just can't help it...! Y/n makes me feel so good! I- I- I just can't help it!"
Steven turned around facing at another mirror staring at his reflection.
"You gotta ask some advice for that problem of yours, hermano." Jake crossed his arms and cocked a eyebrow.
"You don't think I know that, Jake?"
He sighed as he cleaned himself with a wet towel.
"Have you ever tried to masterbate before? That could help you, Steven." Marc chuckled.
"What!? Marc! You know I could never do that! And I'm gonna wait til I marry Y/n...! How could you even think of that!?
"Steven, you poor sad little virgin." Marc sighed.
"What about you go on reddit and go to r/Advice?" Jake smirked.
"Reddit...? No, I shouldn't..."
"It's the only thing to help you." Jake chuckled lightly.
"D'oh... alright..." Steven sighed as he grabbed some new boxers and put them on.
◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤
"Steven, I'm home!!" You placed your bag on the floor as you took off your shoes. You walked into your shared bedroom and see him laying down.
You laid down next to him and peppered his face with small kisses.
"Hi." You smiled lightly and played with his curls.
"Hey..." He smiled lightly but then faltered to a small frown.
"Aww... what's wrong...?" You cupped his face.
"It's uhm..." He sighed. "Love, uhm... during out make out sessions... I uh... I cum."
You frozed when you heard that.
"Like, pre-cum or...?"
"No, like full-on climax... and it's embarrassing... just instantly releasing during a make out session...! And I went to Reddit for advise... I- I just know that you're gonna judge me..."
"Steven, that's not embarrassing at all... to be honest, I find that really flattering."
"Really...?"
"Yes, it makes me feel good. It let's me know of how good I can make you really feel..." You leaned into him and gently kissed him softly.
He pulled away and smiled.
"Thank you, love..."
This got me cracking up 💀
Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this :]
#♡mochimoqa♡#moon knight#moon boys#steven grant#jake lockley#steven grant x y/n#steven grant x gender neutral reader#steven grant x reader#steven grant x you#moon knight system#moonknight x reader#moonknight fic#moonknight fanfiction#steven grant smut#steven grant fanfiction#moonknight#marc spector#layla el faouly#oscar issac characters#oscar isaac characters#oscar issac imagine#oscar isaac
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