Tumgik
#layla el faouly x you
pimosworld · 10 months
Text
Care to join?
Tumblr media
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 🏳️‍🌈
560 notes · View notes
honeypotsworld · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Fake tweets cause I finally remembered the app’s name 😭
249 notes · View notes
refiwrites · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
no thoughts; head empty, just her.
2K notes · View notes
Text
Waters
Tumblr media
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
Tumblr media
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.” 
Tumblr media
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.)
275 notes · View notes
inklore · 2 years
Note
i want NEED more of layla x marc x reader's relationship bestie !! i feel like layla would've been softer than marc but she'd also would keep it in balance. like usually being soft but stays firm when you're acting bratty and doesn't back up from punishing you,,, and and and do you think she'd be more into praising or degrading you ???
ops i totally forgot about marc being in the relationship too --
all ours.
Tumblr media
pairing: layla el faouly x (f)reader x marc spector
word count: 965
warnings: minors dni please, pov switch, illusions of sex, oral, fingering, cum eating, choking, slight hand kink, praising, dom/sub undertones, layla wears the pants in this three way ok.
etc: bestie when i tell you i blacked out in bi when i wrote this i mean it, like layla? dream, please give me a chance. marc AND layla? thee dream team that i would sell my soul to get a chance with! i also made marc the softer one….because i couldn’t help myself lmaksk.
i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!
Tumblr media
“Look at her,” Layla’s grin is more mocking than it is soothing; happy, teasing. The swipe of her fingers spreading your folds, the slick sound as they move against your clit - just enough to touch, a small taste of what you want, what you need - makes your cheeks heat even more; your teeth dig into your already sore bottom lip. 
When she lifts her fingers, your hips try to trail after them pathetically. The two fingers she holds up are visibly wet, coated, your arousal put on display for the three of you. The smirk she sends Marc makes your stomach sink, your resolve breaking. You would feel embarrassed, should feel embarrassed, neither of them have touched you all night. At least nothing more than the small fleeting ones here and there; a brush to your back through your dress, a puff of air from speaking close to your neck, your ear, wafting over your skin. The tiniest of finger grazes when Layla would give or take. 
No it was the looks they had given you. The lack of the deep set scowl that faded away when Marc was in the mood. The way Layla’s eyes kept sweeping along your body, how she would comment on how cute you looked to Marc, “Isn’t she so pretty? So beautiful, all ours”. The smile that followed from the statements a mix of teasing and admiration that sent your stomach plummeting, and heart racing. 
And maybe that's why she did it. Maybe she loved watching you squirm, or watching the way it was so easy to tell you wanted them, wanted her - it was always the same. 
It wasn't hard for her to see it, to see that shift in your body. The looks, the way you pressed your thighs closer together, or the way you kept staring at her hands. Your eyes sweeping over each finger, her wrist, her palm, whatever object she was holding or touching at that moment - the gleam of want in your eye, the hard bob of your throat - the dirty thoughts she was sure were going through your head making you move uncomfortably in your seat. Layla could feel the gravitational pull of your body, of your need, the more you would stare, the less you would talk; the heavier your breath got when she would take pity on you and give you only a taste of what you wanted.
Layla could read you like the back of her hand, as could Marc. You displayed your lust like a beautiful picture book to them, always open, always ready to be read, to be learned, to touch, to place, over and over again. 
Though, she never knew what mood you were in until they got you home, or until you couldn't take it anymore and you all but begged to be touched. Sometimes you’d want her to wrap her hands around your throat and make you come on her fingers until you were screaming and Marc was swallowing them down - or muffling your cries with his cock. 
Other times you wanted to feel the soft press of her fingertips all over your skin, wanted her to tease and pick you apart slowly, so so slowly, until you were grinding your hips up into hers, or her thigh. Making you come untouched. 
Some nights all you wanted was to watch Marc make her come over and over until you begged to have a turn - or until Marc has come inside of her and presses your face into Layla’s cunt to swallow down what wasn't buried deep. 
Layla liked it all, she liked you begging for her to touch you, to fuck you, to let you come. She loved how eager you were to please, how cute you looked being dominated by both her and Marc. How submissive you could be, the sad little moans you’d give when you wouldnt get your way, wouldn't be allowed to come. 
Marc being the softer one of the two when it came to letting you finish when you’ve been a little too bratty; didn't listen to directions, made a move when you were told to stay, to take, to please. If it were up to her you would beg for hours to come, days if that's what it took for a lesson to be learned. 
“Please let me come, please.”
“Oh, baby,” Layla would purr. Smile against your cheek, or wherever her lips were currently torturing you at. “I don’t think you deserve it, not just yet.” 
“Layla.” Marc would answer for you, groan for you. 
But Marc was a softy when it came to his girls. And she couldn’t deny the love she had for the soft intimate moments the three of you shared when you went slow, took each other to that precipice, to that crest with the intimacy of something more than just fucking, than fuffiling a need or punishment. 
“You’re so pretty when you come, look at her Marc.”
“Fuck.”
“Such a good girl.” 
And right now the look Marc has in his eyes, the heavy rising of his chest as he stares at the wetness on her fingers, at your arousal - enough to get both of their mouths watering - Layla can tell that tonight is going to be a giving night. 
That they were going to be a sweaty heaving mess by the time all was said and done.
Walking over to Marc, her steps slow and methodical, she grabs his jaw with a light grip; something flutters inside of her as she watches him open his mouth without her even having to ask. His lips wrapping around her fingers, the suction of his tongue as he licks your arousal off of her fingers, has her smirking, “I get her first.”
1K notes · View notes
ozarkthedog · 8 months
Text
AU: your camera roll but you’re dating Layla El-Faouly
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
77 notes · View notes
moonlight-prose · 2 years
Note
first you flirt with layla and end up kissing her- which ends up making marc jealous in return. he spends days moping about and starts making snarky comments to hide his jealousy (he’s not so great at hiding it)
then you kiss steven, who can’t stop thinking about it for the next couple of days. filling his and marc’s head with thoughts about you
eventually marc ends up drunk at your front door crying about being the only one being left out (he’ll deny he cried about it)
Tumblr media
KISS ME, KISS ME, KISS ME
a/n: this drabble was MEANT to be super short and small, but i ramble so here we go my darling. i hope you enjoy!
word count: 1556 (don't look at me)
pairing: layla el-faouly x reader, steven grant x reader, marc spector x reader
warnings: kissing, more kissing, and some spit kink (again really don't look at me)
The first time you kiss Layla it’s soft. Softer than you imagined it would be—a direct opposite to what you usually get when kissing other people. She doesn’t swiftly grasp for you; doesn’t bite down harshly on your lip to remind you who exactly was in charge. No, it’s tender, gentle and by all means reverent. She leads you into a dance of subtle hints and sweet smiles, until you feel a dizzying high that’s so different from anything you’ve experienced before.
Before you even notice it, she’s licking slowly into your mouth—tongue pressing against yours and you swear you can taste that coffee she always orders in the morning. Her hand is buried in your hair—not enough to hurt—just enough for you to clasp onto. A reminder that this wasn’t Marc or Steven…this was her.
She pulls away, eyes fluttering open to take in your almost intoxicated expression. That sight alone draws her lips up in a smile—not quite a smirk, but you can see it beneath the surface. She likes the way you look. As if you’d bend to her will with yet another kiss and the truth of the matter was…you would.
“Fuck,” you whisper, eyes hazy as your mind came up with scenario after scenario.
“You’re so pretty,” she murmurs. Sliding her thumb along your bottom lip with barely any pressure, she gathers the saliva left behind and pushes inward until your lips are wrapped around her finger.
If you died in this moment—you’d be okay with it. Given the way your insides had turned molten and your brain short circuited the second she placed her lips on yours. Whimpering, you drag her closer until your lips are back on hers and she’s once again leading you through a dance you never wish to stop. You want the taste of her burned into your mind. So sweet and subtle, but strong enough to get drunk off of.
You don’t stop kissing her until she has to leave and even then you beg for one more in the open doorway of your home.
Tumblr media
You kiss Steven for the first time three days after Layla. What came over you to reach over, drag him in by the collar, and slot your lips against his you’ll never know. But you’ll never forget the way he gasped—a shudder running down his spine as you tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. It’s not nearly as intoxicating as Layla and you’re thankful he doesn’t overtake you, but it’s beautiful.
He sighs into your mouth like he’d thought of nothing else for months, before he’s lightly dragging his hands upwards. The pressure of his palms against your waist is enough to drive you mad. Or at least drag him so close his scent is burned into your senses, the way his tongue hesitantly sweeps through your mouth. He doesn’t know how to kiss—that much is obvious—but it doesn’t stop you.
Oddly enough the door opens and Layla walks in. A smile gracing her face as she finds you practically sitting on Steven’s lap, your tongue sensually pressing against his until he’s shaking. You nearly feel bad for making him whimper, beg, plead for more. Except then you pull back to see his face and realize…this is what Layla must have seen on yours.
It’s a new kind of high to see Steven’s eyes all glassy—his lips in a perpetual pout that has your own curving up to a smile. You like him like this. Putty in your hands as you slowly lean in to kiss him again. Layla’s lips press against your bare shoulder—whispers of how good you two look together echo in your ear before she’s pulling away. She had her time with you…now it’s Steven’s turn. Fair is far after all.
That doesn’t stop you from licking into Steven’s mouth, gathering saliva on your tongue before moving away to cup the back of her neck, pressing an open mouthed kiss on her lips—pushing Steven’s spit into her mouth. She moans into the kiss, her hand tightly gripping at your hair before shifting back and leaving the two of you alone once more. Steven is greedy enough to cup your cheeks and turn your face back to his with enough timidness to melt your heart.
He wants you—craves you, and it’s there you realize that you’ll give him whatever he wants just to have a chance to kiss him like this again.
Tumblr media
“Well I just don’t see the point in kissing them both,” he mutters into his glass of whiskey.
Your eyebrows raise as you attempt to bite back the smirk that threatened to show on your face. “You don’t see the point in me wanting to kiss…both of them.”
He grumbles, the scowl you recognize so well on his face once again returning. “Well yeah. Layla is my wife–”
“Divorced.”
“And Steven is literally apart of me–”
“I’ll give you that but–”
“So why did you want to kiss them and…” he trails off, staring into the amber liquid as if it would give him all the answers he sought.
Smiling, you lean forward to cup his chin and drag his head upwards so his eyes lock on yours. “Marc…did you want me to kiss you too?”
The red flooding his face tells you everything you need to know. “No,” he states. “Absolutely not. Have fun with both of them.”
Letting go of his face, you lean back—swallowing the rest of your drink and shrugging. “Whatever you say Spector,” you tease, getting up from the table. “Enjoy your drink.”
It’s two hours later that a sullen knock is hitting your door. Before you even open it you know it’s him—can feel it in your bones—and low and behold you swing the door open to see him…drunk. He leans against your doorway, the curls more pronounced and falling into his face the way Steven wears it. You nearly mistake him for Steven until he begins speaking—the American accent coming through thick and strong.
“Why didn’t you kiss me too?” he asks, eyes glassy with unshed tears.
The sight alone nearly makes your heart shatter. “Oh baby,” you whisper.
“Steven’s been replaying the kiss you two had and all I can think about is…why didn’t you kiss me? Did I fuck up somehow? Or…or hurt you?”
He didn’t know how wrong he was. You had wanted to kiss him the first day you met him—the anxiety of the day still prominent in your mind, but you could recall your imagination running rampant with thoughts of him. Of Marc and his lips. Without another word, you drag him into your home and shut the door. He’s moping, you can see it written across his face. Of course, you won’t tease him about it. You know what longing for kisses feels like.
“Do you want me to kiss you Marc?” you asked gently, cupping his face to keep his eyes level with your own.
“I just–” His eyes close. “Yes. I would.”
Leaning in slowly, you press your lips against his and feel the steady rate of your heart speed up until your nerves are all you can focus on. Even when he’s not trying, he’s good at this. He moves sluggishly, breathing harshly against your cheek, until his brain finally catches up with what’s happening. The world turns on its axis as you’re walking back until you hit a wall, his lips now giving you a run for your money. Whereas Layla was teasing and giving, Marc takes. Steals your breath and makes you beg for more.
Where Steven was soft and hesitant, Marc is strong and dominant. There’s something in his hold that says he wants this—you—but he’s also afraid of hurting you. As if you’ll break beneath his palms. Moaning into the kiss, you shudder when his tongue sweeps along yours, running along the top of your mouth and dragging another sound from your throat. Why you hadn’t kissed him sooner, you don’t know. You were sorely regretting waiting so long at this moment.
“Marc,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut when his teeth pull at your bottom lip gently.
“Mhm.” It’s mumbled against your cheek, his breath hot along your skin.
He’s driven your mind to madness, the heat burning through your body until you can’t think straight anymore. You don’t even fucking want to at this point. All you can sense, taste, feel, is Marc and you want more. You want him to drag you to hell and back with his lips alone. Tugging at his hair, you manage to gain the upper hand, sucking on his tongue and smirking into the kiss when it’s his turn to moan.
“You’re right,” you breathe, choking when he nips down your throat. “I should have kissed you a lot sooner.”
It’s a day later when Layla hears about what happened. You bet the hickeys on his neck tell her the story and you joke that they are now matching. Steven is last to find out—laughing at Marc’s expense when he learns what exactly occurred. It’s enough to make you smile. Even though Marc refuses to accept the fact that he begged…let alone nearly cried.
That however is soon rectified when you press your lips against his again.
705 notes · View notes
fluffyprettykitty · 2 years
Text
Sultry
Tumblr media
Pairing: Marc Spector x Layla El Faouly x female reader (no other specifications!)
Word Count: 2020 words
Outline: Meeting the strange couple across the bar sealed your fate for that hazy summer in Cairo.
Warnings: only smut, swearing, open relationship, sub/dom undertones, nipple play, degradation, choking, spanking, facesitting, spit play, scissoring, daddy kink, praise kink, cockwarming, finger sucking, oral fixation, pet names, dirty talk.
Author’s Note: This story doesn't feature Steve, only Marc! Beta-ed by @alohastyles-x <3 <3 <3 <3
P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics || banners by @maysdigitalarts
Main Masterlist ・❥・ Marc Spector Masterlist ・❥・Layla El Faouly Masterlist
Tumblr media
NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI.
Tumblr media
It feels mesmerizing the way they both switch between your nipples, nibbling and licking them, full of need and want; tantalizing and sweet. Each trying to outdo the other. You are naked and pliant under their touch, breathing heavily while you are arching your back. There is a buzzing in your head, from the earlier drinks they brought you back in the rooftop bar and burning inside your loins. A pool has long formed between your legs and yet they both seemed so enamored with your nipples, that it felt as if they would never let go. Both of your hands are on their faces, trying to push them away as the pleasure begins to get too much for you.
You need more and you need it now. 
“Please.” You breathe out, your stomach sinking in as your body arches more, trying to get away from their mouths. “I am going to!” You moan out loud again and that’s when you feel cold air approaching your breasts, they have now pulled away, choosing to kiss one another deeply and passionately, putting on a performance just for you. You try to settle on the back of your hands looking at them completely in awe while they looked like they were devouring the taste of your breasts on each other's lips. 
 “Fucking hell.” You curse out while rubbing your legs together at the sight, mouth hanging open. 
The curly-haired woman chuckles as she pushes the man away from her -you didn’t know their names, you didn’t have to, it all added to the erotic mystery of the summer night. Her hand is on his chest as she pushes his shirt away and he mimics her movements pushing away hers. You are watching in awe as he pulls her bra down with such ferocity that makes you moan. He crushes his lips between her breasts, darting out his tongue and licking them with such need that made your pussy clench. That was once you received that pleasure one moment ago. Feeling neglected you lean forward wrapping your hands around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss. She tastes sweet and different. Like a rare warm summer night on the brink of dawn. 
Lust overwhelms you as you hungrily kiss her deeper, pushing your tongue inside her mouth to brush it with hers, her hands cupping your face. She lets out one loud groan inside your mouth that catches you by surprise but you glance down to look at the black-haired man rubbing his palm over her pussy. 
What a fucking sight to see.
Using the tip of his tongue he is licking around her areola and that’s when you notice for the first time that both of her nubs are adorned with gold piercings. As if she could get any more perfect. With another moan, she pushes her head back and you are looking at her neck, so beautiful and, oh, just so biteable. Drunk in your lust you lean forward and catch her neck with your teeth biting softly yet needily at it. 
“Fuck!” She proclaims as she moans again to the apparent amusement of the man. He lets out a deep chuckle. “What a fucking whore you picked, my love, look at her. Ready for anything. We are going to have a lot of fun.”
The next thing you feel is his hand around your throat as he pushes your body back down on the bed in your previous position. Layla is pushing away her remaining clothes and he is staring deep inside your eyes while he is choking you. He is testing you, wanting to see just how much he can use you, and what kind of pain levels you can tolerate. The way you are trying to rub your body against his, tells him all he needs to know. 
“A fucking kinky whore. Top-quality.” He chuckles again and lets go of your neck. Watching you as you take a deep breath of air, looking up at him with a playful look. 
“What do you want to do with her?” Her voice feels like a warm satin sheet wrapping around you. Pure velvet. 
“I want to fuck her brains out. Shove my cock so deep inside her mouth she won’t ever be able to speak clearly again.” His tone is serious and authoritative, and lets you know he is the one who calls the shots in their relationship. 
“Or we could tie her up, see how much she can really take, look at how wet she is. She is soaking the bed and she hasn’t even seen your cock.” You whimper at her words, there is nothing more you want than you want to have them both fuck you, have each and every inch of your body, use you till you can’t see anymore. 
“Please, touch me.” You plead drawing your eyebrows together and looking at them both. They are turning to each other, sharing a look before the hand that was one moment ago around your throat now goes to your pussy, slapping you hard and making you cry. 
“What I say, goes,” Marc says, looking at you, his serious, stoic, look driving a flame inside you. “I make the rules here. Understand, whore?” You frantically nod your head. But he only shakes his head, landing another harsh slap on your pussy, making your whole body vibrate. 
“Understand?” He repeats and you open your mouth to softly speak.
“Yes, I do,” Layla smirks at your response and then is hovering above you, her whole naked body at display just for you. Anticipating what’s next, you look as she descends her pussy down on your face, momentarily you glance at the man, remembering that he calls the rules. 
“Can-can I have her, s-sir?” You look at him with pleading eyes while you watch him nod his head slowly. 
“She catches on fast.” The woman comments before landing her pussy on your face, holding on to the bed frame. 
“Good girl,” Marc comments while you are placing her hands on her hips, darting out your tongue to taste her sweet nectar. Hearing some fumbling, you can tell Marc is pushing the rest of his clothes away only to be followed by the sound of spit and him spreading it around his cock.
 “Let’s take turns fucking her face.” He says and before you can even process it, you watch Layla disappear from your lips and him shoving his cockhead inside your mouth. Layla moves to your pussy, rubbing hers over yours, the first contact making you moan fully around his cock. He doesn’t play nice though, he never seemed that type either, he is shoving his cock in and out, slapping you with it before shoving it inside again, having placed his hand behind your head freely moving it however he pleases.
On the other hand, Layla is practically riding the fuck out of your pussy, slick over slick, spreading more and mixing together while she is shaking your whole body on the bed. You can’t breathe and the pleasure is getting a lot, and before you know his cock is so far deep inside your throat it makes you gag, saliva dripping forcibly down your chin while he is keeping your head steady. 
You can feel an orgasm coming but you can’t warn anyone, and just like that your body rises, stomach sinking in while ecstasy hits you, your toes curling. Layla slows her movements and softly rubs her pussy on yours while Marc is slipping his cock out of your mouth. You try to breathe, your eyes filled with tears at the way he used your face. 
“Good girl. She knows who her daddy is.” He comments and you tirelessly nod your head trying to swallow. 
“Still gonna need to hear your words.” He repeats wearing a certain softness in his voice. 
“Yes, daddy.” You proclaim and he smiles at you. He chuckles as he slaps his cock against your face one last time and then lays on the side next to you. 
“Now make my wife cum for me, pretty girl.” His command feels like the best thing in the world and you eagerly look at Layla as she returns to her previous position on your face. This time around though she starts rubbing her wet pussy over your mouth while the close sounds of Marc stroking his cock rile you up. You dig your nails deep on her hips trying to control her movements a little, as she is riding your face as if you are a pillow or better yet -her husband’s cock.
But you are determined to make her cum intensely and once you get your tongue on her clit you begin to suck her so harshly that she’s immediately halting her movements, her legs trembling, to the complete impression of the man who is complimenting you. 
“Look at you. Proper fuck machine. I ain’t never letting you go. Gonna put you to really good use.” He continues as Layla lets out a loud cry and her hands yanking your hair when the wave of pleasure overwhelms her. 
“Fuck!” She screams out, panting heavily above you. “We’re keeping her.” She chuckles while moving her legs and body away from you, your chin covered in her juices, and moves back to her husband sharing a deep kiss with him. You are panting looking at them both, glancing down at his palm around his cock. 
You want so desperately to ask for more while they are getting lost in kissing each other, her hands wrapped around his neck and his free hand on the back of her hand. The loud sound of their wet kisses overfilling the room and leaving your cunt empty and aching. You are licking your lips together, wondering if they would mind if you touched yourself a little seeing how good they look together. Instead, you watch them pull away from each other, the man piercing his black eyes to yours. 
“This is only the beginning.” He smirks and you can feel a heat entangling your whole body. 
“Come here and warm my cock for me, pet.” He instructs you and a pride overfills you, electrifying your body to the sound of your pet name. Dutifully you go to him, moving his hand away from his cock, taking his hand and raising it up to your eye level, darting out your tongue to slowly lick and suck his fingers. It wasn’t what he expected as he watches you with his mouth open, moving your body to straddle him. Layla has now gotten up from the bed, picking up an old-looking book and sitting back down on the bed, naked and glorious.
“We have work to do, pet, gonna need my fingers.” He tells you and you let go of his hand with a pout. That’s when you finally line up his cock to your entrance, moaning once you feel his cockhead stretching you out. 
“And keep quiet.” He looks at you shaking a warning finger in front of your face, that only makes you wish you could suck it again. Biting on the inner of your lips to keep yourself from screaming, you move your pussy on his cock, further sinking down. Marc reaches for a lighter and a pack of cigarettes that is on the nightstand and proceeds to light one up, the pure act of it unfolding in front of you making you groan quietly. You might have tried to muffle your sound but you can’t muffle your pussy clenching around his cock. He is shaking his head while putting the lighter away, blowing smoke out.
“Keep quiet. We have work to do.” He repeats once again and you try to relax. You know you can be good. 
And that’s how the rest of your summer in Egypt unfolded, with a strange couple claiming you as theirs. The various bites and marks all over your body will make the winter that is yet to come a little less harsh and a lot more filled with a promise of eternal summer in Cairo.
~continued here.
Tumblr media
If you want to be notified about my future stories please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on notifications!
821 notes · View notes
stranger-nightmare · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐰𝐨 | 𝐃𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐚 𝐄𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐲
requested by 🦊anon
A/N: Layla my beloved!! I’ve been so excited to write for her, thank you for the request, this was so fun to write!!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You stretch your body and smile lightly as you take in your surroundings; the gorgeous and spacious hotel room you were currently in, the warm early morning Cairo sun leaking through the curtains, giving the room an ethereal soft glow. And, next to you on the grand bed, your beautiful girlfriend. You stare and admire her for a just a moment before she too is yawning and stretching out her body as she wakes up. The most perfect of smiles graces her face when she catches you staring at her.
“Good morning baby,” you murmur as you lean down to kiss her.
Layla mumbles a greeting as she returns your kiss. The kiss is languid and slow, laced with a sleepy sensuality. Both of you are smiling soflty into the kiss as you enjoy the morning bliss, the feeling of simply being with each other. Layla moans quietly against your mouth as you begin to move your body against hers, working a kind of push and pull movement as the kiss grows more and more heated. You hold Layla firmly in your arms as you shift the two of you, lying you both on your sides as you keep kissing her deeply, your tongue slipping into her mouth.
At the same moment you push a leg forward until your thigh slotted between Layla’s, pushing up until you could feel her warmth on your bare skin, her pussy separated from you only by the thin material of her panties. She sighs softly into the kiss, her hips starting to move on instinct, grinding against your thigh. You smirk at how responsive she is, even this early in the morning, sleep still lacing her eyes.
You then feel her match your smirk when she shifts to shove one of her thighs between your legs as well, pushing closer until you were gasping into the kiss when your covered pussy came into contact with her thigh too. Light and gentle giggles escape the two of you as your lips move together, matching the rhythm as you grinded on each other’s thighs, frantically humping, desperate for that friction through the underwear that you had both worn to bed.
Your hips move faster and faster as you both race towards your climaxes, your kiss becoming sloppy as your concentration is lost to blissful friction between your legs. Before long euphoria courses through you, a blissful high to match the blissful beauty of the morning, of your gorgeous girlfriend. Shortly after Layla is gasping and moaning as her own high crashes over her; it was a sound and a sight you knew you’d never get tired of. The two of you stare at each other for a moment as you come down from your highs, fucked-out and sleepy smiles adorning your faces. You can’t help as the two of you break out into gentle giggles as she bumps her nose against yours, nuzzling gently.
“Good morning indeed,” she mumbles against your lips.
Tumblr media
Main Masterlist // Kinktober 2022 Masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media
158 notes · View notes
kasplonkable · 2 years
Text
Domestic Hcs: Layla El-Faouly
Tumblr media
I just get the feeling she's an early riser. But by early riser, I mean she's up an already organising what you're both doing, while also in the process of waking you up too
Like, it'll be 5am and she's there with a cup of coffee, letting you know that she's going on a hike in less than an hour, and you're coming with her
"Babe, it's literally 4:47 AM, the sun isn't even fully up yet"
"But it's almost up, which means we're wasting time!"
Despite that, it's always worth it to see the way the early morning light casts shadows on her face; she looks even more striking than normal in the orange glow of the sunrise
You have these extravagant movie nights, where you end up making a blanket fort and putting up fairy lights, and making hot chocolates heaped with whipped cream and marshmallows
She gently kisses you when you get whipped cream on your top lip
She also gets mad at the movie you're watching, like if it's a horror movie then she's yelling about the logic used
"Oh yeah, great idea!! Split up with a serial killer in the house, what could possibly go wrong?"
But it's worse if it's a romance movie
Both of you will be playfully gagging at the kissing scenes and rolling your eyes at the cheesy lines, giggling whenever something dumb happens
Dancing around the kitchen in fuzzy socks
You get so caught up in the moment that you forget the pasta until it bubbles over, making a loud hiss that makes you both jump
I imagine her house being really bright and airy, and full of cool artifacts
When you first saw them, you thought they were just cool replicas, until you eventually figured out the truth
"Wait, Layla, is that the real statue of khufu?"
"..........it's too nice to sit in a museum"
"How did you even get it?......Babe?!"
It's not like you're going to tell anyone though, so for now it'll just have to stay on the bookshelf, right next to her collection of French poetry
One day you walk into the kitchen to find Layla talking to a stray calico cat at the window. She had given her a small plate of chicken that she'd been cooking for lunch and a bit of water
You didn't want to disrupt the moment by walking in, so you watched from the doorway with the most loving expression a person could muster
After that, the cat would keep coming back. Same time everyday there would be tapping and loud meowing coming from the kitchen; the signal it was time to feed her
You're not quite sure when it happened, but eventually she kind of let herself in, roaming the house, before getting comfortable on the bed and falling asleep
Since then she's never left
Layla always considered herself more of a dog person, but it melts your heart when you see her with the cat curled up in her lap
She has. So. Many. Boots. And because she takes them off at the door, you find yourself tripping over a pair sometimes when you're on your way out
But then, you leave books around the house constantly, sometimes to the point where she can't even see the table underneath all the papers
One would think you get annoyed at eachother for these things, but somehow it's endearing to find boots at the door and know Layla is home from a long day. Just like how she finds books on the table and knows you've become passionate about something new
Despite that, I reckon she's a pretty tidy person
She takes spring cleaning very seriously. On the first day of spring, she puts up a checklist of everything that needs to be sorted out, and systematically works her way through it
It's too much to get done in one day, but you work together and the list is cleared within about a week
It's nice to take a moment to sit down, knowing that there's nothing left to do except curl up, and enjoy eachothers company
---
Is it obvious yet how much I love her? I've been wanting to write this for ages, but studying has been getting in the way. Speaking of, this will probably be my last post for a couple of months. Exam stress is getting real and I want to give myself the best chance I can to do well! I do have some more stuff in the works, but I won't be looking at it until my exams are done. Hope you enjoyed this though, and as always, feel free to request anything and I'll get to it when I can!! :-)
328 notes · View notes
angel-of-the-moons · 3 months
Text
Layla el Faouly Masterlist
Marvel Masterlist
Tumblr media
❤️‍🔥 -- Means NSFW
💘 -- Means Eventual NSFW
🍰 -- Means Fluff
🥀 -- Means Angst
11 notes · View notes
hederasgarden · 2 years
Text
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. 
Tumblr media
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.
328 notes · View notes
sweetly-yours-and-mine · 10 months
Text
Florence
Tumblr media
Summary: You and Layla enjoy your honeymoon the way honeymoons are meant to be enjoyed.
Pairing: Layla El-Faouly x f!Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: wlw, smut 18+ only, fingering (Layla receiving), porn with like a sprinkle of plot, bad smut most likely you've been warned
A/N: Had this in the works for a few months but here it is! If you enjoyed it you have @pennyserenade to thank for it because she gave me the final push to finish this.
Tumblr media
Ever since you’d slipped your ring onto Layla’s hand, you’ve gone a little feral. There’s barely been a moment you’ve spent outside your room, though Florence glitters in the hot sun like a jewelled labyrinth, waiting to be explored. 
You suppose that honeymoons were never really meant for tourism anyways. 
You can’t really look at Layla without a primal little sprout growing in your chest, a curl of possessiveness that shuts off all other thoughts except for ‘mine’. 
Mine. 
Gods, you want to bite her, to swallow her whole. You have bitten her, the evidence clear on her skin, and she has done the same to you in turn. 
Though this is anything but the first time you’ve had her in bed, screaming until her voice is hoarse, it’s the first time that it’s felt like this. Each brush of her skin against yours, the fan of the sounds spilling from her plush lips raise wave after wave of desire in you in ways you’ve never experienced before. 
One look, one kiss, one glance at her ring and you find yourself pressing her down into the sheets, and wrapping your hand around her throat, determined to see what kind of noises you can coax out of her this time. 
She seems to only egg you further, asking for more, more, harder and faster, until she’s quivering. Until her legs are gooey and mushy and there’s a sheen of sweat on her chest that you’ll be depraved enough to lick it away, bite down and make her whine from the overstimulation and the pain. 
This time had started innocently. 
In the bathtub, her back pressed to your chest, you found your hand wandering, trying to clean away the traces of sex from her skin with the tepid, sudsy water. You had worked at her shoulders, tried to loosen the tension knotted into them. 
It really had been innocent, a well-needed break for the both of you to rest and eat before the next rounds. 
It would have been innocent had you been with anyone else but Layla. 
And then she had to go and moan in that delightful way that she did. 
The water only came about halfway up to her stomach, her chest bare and exposed, golden skin even more golden in the low light of the washroom.
Her pussy shimmered for you from underneath the bubbles on the surface of the water. 
You’d abruptly changed course, fingers on her nipples, playing with them until they hardened over for you. Her body always responded to your touch as easily as if it was the only thing she knew how to do. 
Layla had asked you what you thought you were doing and you’d shushed, pressing your lips against her neck and taking in the smell of her. On instinct you’d nipped at the skin, soothed the spot over seconds later with your mouth. 
When she hadn’t complained and only moaned in earnest this time, her back arching sharply for you, you’d gotten out of the water to lay down a towel on the ground and all you’d seen after that was the red hot colour of the ember of lust. 
You’re manhandling her, her body soaking the towel underneath her, the cold grip of her ring against your hip driving you up the walls. 
In seconds you have yourself hovering over her cunt. You press down and the softness of her wet flesh against yours makes you cry out, dizzy and disoriented for a couple of seconds. 
The hardened nub of her clit brushes yours, and you come to. There’s a fucked out look in her eyes and that makes you want to bite her. 
With another press of your hips, you lean forward, follow the line of her throat with your nose and decide where you want to sink your teeth in now. 
There are no other thoughts running inside your head except for mine, mine, mine. 
Building up a steady rhythm, you choose the soft skin about her collarbone, before biting her just on the other side of harsh. The sound she makes goes straight to your head, a heady combination of a cry and a moan. Letting go, you soothe the spot over with your tongue, though a depraved piece of you wanted to keep on the grip you had on her skin and tear off a piece for yourself. 
Your hand goes underneath her lower thigh and you hike her leg up, moving her around the way you please. The angle switch for her seems to do it all. She moans and cries out for you, a gentle tremble starting to grow in the muscles of her leg like the beginnings of an earthquake. 
Her reaction to such a small change is so intense and natural that it makes you laugh gently, “You like that, Layla?” 
She groans. “Fuck, baby.” 
You start to arch your back further before each time you grind down onto her pussy to get better leverage. The mixture of your arousals drips everywhere and gets stirred in with the bathwater on your bodies. Yours and Layla’s thighs are wet and soaked. There’s the faint, wet click each time your hips meet hers and it’s music to the sounds she’s making underneath you. 
The humidity in Italy has done wonders to her hair, and it splays out underneath her and makes her look like an angel. 
Moving your hips in circles, you raise an eyebrow at her teasingly, “You want a finger, baby?” 
Her eyes open only to see if you’re in earnest or only teasing her in the way you’re often fond of at home, keeping her tethering on the edge for hours at a time, coming up behind her and kissing her neck and making her soak through her jeans. She nods frantically, her hips coming up to meet yours with each thrust of yours. 
Pressing two of your fingers in her mouth, she starts to suck at them. You circle her tongue with your fingers and she moans again, muffled, and you can feel the vibrations of it through your hand. You continue your rhythm against her cunt and her chest arches up for you. You move her leg to rest on your waist before you take her breast in your hand and just hold it for now. 
Taking your fingers out of her mouth, you reach behind you and run them through her folds. Lust is so strong with you that you marvel at the control you have over yourself to be able to play her body so well and leave her at a loss for words. 
You press inside her easily, and her pussy sucks you in almost instantly, barely letting you move your hand and fuck her. 
You slow down your hips to move measured and deep presses against her cunt, in time with your fingers as you move them slowly in and out of her. 
You remember the first time you slept with Layla. The olive slip dress she’d worn through the dinner all through the night, the way she was so clearly not wearing a bra underneath. The way her legs went on for miles with the heels she was wearing. 
She had walked you back to her place and you’d invited her in for another drink, which she never did get, but she did get to be pressed up against the wall with the wine rack against it. She had sighed and moaned and wrapped her leg around your waist because her dress also had a delightful little slit in it that you could slip into and trace up her inner thigh to run through the dark curls between her legs. 
Right there against the wall, you had rubbed her clit over and over in a teasing, come-and-go pattern that her shaking as she gripped onto you for dear life as she came. 
That was when you knew how much fun you could have with Layla. 
Then she’d pressed you back onto bed and licked at your core until she made you come three times and then she’d moved you into much the same position you have her in now and rubbed her cunt against yours until she was crying out in pleasure and gripping onto your forearm for dear life. 
The next morning, you’d woken her up and repaid the favour and didn’t let her leave your bed until well-past noon, rolling around until the sheets had fallen onto the floor. You’d pressed her up against the door to your apartment and only let her go after she made you promise that you would come over the next evening and let her make you dinner. 
Right now, she’s starting to cry out in the way that lets you know that she’s close. Your thoughts have aroused you so much that you know that simply seeing her release will push you over yours. 
You push in a third finger and her pussy squelches for you. The sound makes you break out into a trilling laugh, you want to touch the towel underneath her and see how wet it’s gotten from just her arousal, “Gods, Layla.” 
Building up a quicker pace with your hand and hips, you roll the pebble of her nipple between her fingers until she’s breaking out into short pulses of moans and cries. She comes with a scream of your name and a sharp arch of her back. 
As you had expected, the marvellous sight in front of you of a goddess drowned in pleasure, pleasure you’ve given her, pleasure you only will give her from now on because she’s your wife, sends you into a white hot release, your palm on her breast, your grip firm. 
Tumblr media
Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.
Masterlist here.
105 notes · View notes
wakandas-vibranium · 11 months
Note
#2 please? #2 I see you're a Moonie so maybe with FemDom either Layla or Reader? Honestly anything with #2. 😂
2. "So I hear you like pain."
Tumblr media
Pairing: Layla el Fouly x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, smutty smut, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, pain kink
Word count: 0.9k
You were on vacation in London, sitting at the bar of a local pub nursing a dirty martini when Layla strolled in by herself. The waves in her hair created the perfect framing for her face. She reached out to you after seeing one of your social media posts. She texted you the location and said she’d meet you here in an hour.
In your eyes, Layla was sheer perfection. She was an amazing wife, friend, daughter, and fighter. Everything about her was enticing. You and her had run across each other’s paths multiple times over the last four years. 
You wanted Layla carnally and each time you pursued her she would shoot you down saying that she was married to Marc. You understood that she was a married woman, but it was clear that she didn’t get the tender love and care from her husband. 
“So I hear you’re into pain,” Layla blurted before taking a sip of her second rum and coke. You opened your mouth to respond, but then closed it. You actually didn't care who shared your pain kink with Layla.
“I am,” you replied, nodding your head as you gazed into her beautiful chestnut-brown eyes, “I love it when it hurts so good.” You were on your third cocktail and feeling rather confident. Layla was looking exceptionally delicious, and you needed to let her know you still wanted her.
“I can make it so good it hurts,” she said, downing the rest of her drink while maintaining eye contact. Her eyes sparkled mischievously in the dimly lit bar. You shifted in your seat, thighs rubbing together as you nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s get out of here.” Layla stood up, reached into her pocket to retrieve her wallet and slapped two twenty dollar bills on the table. 
You downed the rest of your martini and followed her out of the bar, clutching your purse. You were thankful that your hotel was only a ten-minute stroll away. You asked her on the way there what had changed after all these years of shooting you down, and she informed you that her husband had asked for a divorce with no explanation. She explained how he ditched her months ago without even saying goodbye. You came to a halt and pulled her in for a much-needed hug, expressing to her husband how dumb and ungrateful he was not to recognize how incredible she was. She hugged you tightly, chest pressing against yours as she held back tears of sorrow. She quickly changed the subject as you both parted and continued walking down the busy street towards the hotel you were staying in. 
And now here you were, splayed out on your hotel bed with Layla on top of you, kissing you passionately. Your blouse, bra, and panties were discarded and flung on the floor. You were left in your purple mini skirt. She undressed quickly and slid between your legs. Layla was completely naked and breathtaking. Body even better than what you had been imagining all these years. 
As she leaned down, you grabbed her soft ass and crushed your lips together in a heated kiss. Her hard nipples grazed yours, making you shiver. She broke the kiss and shifted down your body, leaving open-mouth kisses against your skin. She closed her mouth around your sensitive nipple, sucking gently while cupping your other breast and giving it a firm squeeze. 
You moaned softly as her free hand slithered up your skirt and found your throbbing clit. When her middle finger brushed over the sensitive bud you jerked slightly in anticipation. 
“Layla,” you said, letting out a high whine. 
“Mmm, already so wet for me,” she praised as her tongue flicked your nipple.
"Shit!" you cursed as she nipped your nipple and tugged. It hurt so good you felt more wetness ooze out of your tight hole. She moved to your other nipple, repeating the same notion while her other hand was rubbing your clit in tight circles. The coil that hung low in your belly began to uncurl. Before you could cum she let your nipple go and moved down your body. 
Layla clutched your calf and ran kisses up your thigh. You sighed deeply. Her soft lips felt good against your skin. She sank her teeth in the meat of your thigh, biting the flesh gently. You shouted and jolted against the bed as the pain took you by surprise. Your thighs were very sensitive. You hissed in pain as she brought her hand down hard on your other thigh, smacking it hard enough to leave a welt. She rubbed soothing circles into it and kissed the bite mark. Your eyes fluttered closed and you moaned loudly as Layla licked up your slit.
She kissed your clit before flicking her tongue against the bundle of nerves. You squirmed against the bed, head thrashing against the pillows. It felt so good. She slipped two of her long fingers inside of you, closing her lips around your clit and sucking meticulously. You entwined your fingers in Layla's wavy locs, burying your teeth into your lower lip as her lips tugged harder against your clit. 
Soon enough, the wet sounds of Layla lapping up your juices filled the hotel room. You tugged on her curls as you began to grind against her pretty face. The tightness in your belly began to uncoil and your thighs started to shake as you felt a warmth rush over you, “Layla, I’m cumming!” You whined as your orgasm ripped through you. 
“You’re so pretty when you whine like that,” Layla purred against your sensitive clit, licking you through your orgasm.
46 notes · View notes
ozarkthedog · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
summary — you surprise Layla with some sweets after a rough week at work and she loses herself in the moment.
Tumblr media
warnings — alt universe. milf!Layla x afab babysitter!Reader. fluff. sexual tension. finger sucking. Marc makes a brief appearance.
word count — 1.1k
author’s note — this fic is part of my ongoing series, Slow Like Honey, but it could be read as a stand alone. 
thank you — @negronispagliato for the baklava idea. 💙
Tumblr media
☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☾
❦ 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ❦ 
— 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 ❧ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 — 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝/𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 & 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!
Tumblr media
Just as you pull the hot sheet pan sizzling with freshly baked Baklava out of the oven, Layla walks through the door with a heavy sigh. She kicks off her heels and hangs her purse on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. 
She looks tired and downright done with the week. Normally, she’s light in a dark room. With untamed curls, tender eyes, and a wily smile. It was so easy to fall head over heels for her.
“What’s that smell?” She asks, quizzically. “I know that smell.” 
She pads into the kitchen with curiosity and stands next to you at the island looking over the sweet treats on display. “Oh my goodness! Baklava!” She exclaims with a smile as bright as the sun.
Your heart swells watching her stress melt away. “Well, you were having such a rough week at work and I wanted to do something nice for you.”
Layla beams. “That’s so thoughtful. Did you know this was one of my favorite pastries? Did Marc tell you?”
You shake your head. “No, he didn’t. I noticed whenever we walked by the bakery with the kids, you always made heart eyes at the Baklava in the window display.” You explain as you pour water, sugar, and lemon juice into a small bowl and begin to stir the ingredients.
She lets out a laugh. “Ah, you got me. It’s hard not to fawn over the things I love.” She admits, watching as you mix the confection. She turns her body into yours, slowly closing the distance while you’re distracted. 
Your eyes flick from the bowl up to her when you feel warmth radiate your left side. Heat flames your cheeks when you realize how close she is.
“This was really sweet of you.” She purrs while resting a tender hand on your shoulder.
Your belly flips from the touch. The skin beneath her palm burns forcing you to bite your tongue to keep the soft moans from spilling.
“You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do for you besides taking care of the little ones.” You say while poking your finger through the thick liquid and giving it a taste. “M’hmm. It’s perfect.”
She quickly dips a finger into the syrup before you can drag the bowl away with a “tsk”. She wraps her lips around her finger with a lash fluttering, risque groan.  
Your grip on the bowl tightens upon hearing her make such a sinful noise. 
“Come on. One more? Please?” Layla whines while reaching for the bowl once more. 
“No! I need it for the Baklava!” You chastise with a laugh as you fight her off. She slips a finger by you and gathers another dollop but this time she pokes your cheek with the sticky digit instead.
You stand in shock as the room temp syrup drips down your cheek. Layla laughs as she dips another finger in the bowl and brings it to her lips sucking on the sweet liquid.
With a mischievous smirk, you gather the fallen syrup from your cheek and try to prod her own in retaliation.
She holds your wrist easily at bay as the two of you laugh, wrestling until your bodies are locked against one another and you’re pinned to the side of the island in defeat.
With a satisfied sigh, Layla presses her soft curves against your frame and brings your wrist up to her mouth.
She presses your finger to her lips and sucks the syrup coated digit into her mouth. She rolls her tongue languidly and licks the sugar from your skin with a lewd moan. Your belly twists as she stares you down and drags her tongue around your finger lapping every bit of the sweet syrup.
Ever so slowly she pulls your finger from her lips, taking her time watching your wide doe eyes glaze over by the second. “You taste so sweet.” She murmurs against the pad of your finger. Her plush lips tickle the sensitive tip and make your knees buckle.
“I - I think that’s the sugar.” You barely manage to squeak through the hazy trance.
Layla shakes her head. Curls bouncing in disagreement as those frisky, chestnut eyes zero in on your lips. “No, it’s you.” She affirms with a sly smile.
Energy pulses between your bodies like a circuit waiting to explode. Earthly magnetism draws you closer as she removes her hold on your wrist and lightly grasps your chin between her thumb and forefinger. 
Your mouth drops open as her fascinated eyes dance over your face before landing on your bewildered ones. She’s wanting to ask for permission but she’s fighting her temptation to take what she wants.
A tender thumb grazes your bottom lip experimentally giving you time to pull away but you don’t budge. You’re careful not to move a single muscle in the hopes that you won’t ever wake from this dream.
Layla’s lips tug into a smile before she leans even closer. Your eyes flutter shut waiting for the sweet press of her lips when suddenly the side door opens.
You quickly turn on the spot and busy yourself with plating the leftover pastries. One drops upside down on account of your heart beating like a jackhammer. Layla rights herself and brushes a few fallen curls away from her face as Marc steps into the kitchen.
“M’hmm. That smells delicious whatever it is.” He says, shrugging off his jacket before hanging it on the hook next to the door. 
“I made some Baklava for the family.” You reply with a forced smile.
Marc clutches his chest playfully, “What did we ever do to deserve you?”
He combs a hand through his wavy, jet black hair as he steps around the kitchen island and gathers Layla into his arms. “Hey Baby. How was your meeting?” 
Jealously gets the better of you and you peer over your shoulder at the couple as they embrace and Layla vents about her day.
Oh, what you’d give to be held by both of them. To be loved by both of them.
Your belly twists when you notice Marc’s stare is trained on you. His features are curious and perverse as he trails his eyes up and down your body. Heat burns from the inside out making you turn away in shame.
You do your best not to squirm under their gaze while you finish fixing and arranging the desserts and do away with the dirty bowls and pans in the dishwasher.
“Well, I’m off.” You announce as you toe on your shoes and dig your car keys out of your backpack hoping to make a quick exit so you can finally get a breath of fresh air and quell the ache between your legs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh, one moment,” Layla breaks away from Marc’s hold. “Will you share that recipe with me for the sweet syrup tomorrow?” She asks, eyes sparkling with hope.
“Yes. Definitely.” You muse with a coy smile.
Tumblr media
posting before I get cold feet 😬🙈
223 notes · View notes
moonlight-prose · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
♱ BELONG TO YOU ♱
Tumblr media
a/n: this was a fic on it's own that had been sitting unfinished in my wips folder for months. but i'm shoving it into kinktober, because it is filthy as fuck. enjoy!
day twelve - threesome + body worship | kinktober 2022
summary: a never-ending game of give and take between the three of you, and you thrived off it.
word count: 1.4k+
pairing: marc spector x f!reader x layla el-faouly
warnings: MINORS DNI, cussing, threesome, body worship, cum eating, fingering, my horrible attempt at dirty talk.
Tumblr media
He looked pretty. That’s all you could remember in this situation, his question of what you thought about him when you first saw him now muddled in your mind. His hands ran down your sides, dragging you into his lap slowly and you did your best to give him an answer. What did you think about him? There were too many words to describe such a situation at a time like this. Fuck, you could barely even tell him what you wanted him to do next.
“C’mon tell me,” he cooed, head tilted back against the couch as your hands rested on his shoulders.
“I—”
The words caught in your throat when a second pair of hands trailed up your back. Their touch, lighter than his and yet still prominent enough to drive you just as crazy…if not more. You didn’t need to look over your shoulder to know she was smiling. Her eyes alight with mischief as she caught his gaze. They knew the effect they had and still they did this on purpose either way—drew you taut with pleasure through only their so-called innocent touches.
“What did you think of me baby?” she asked—voice barely above a whisper. It had the hair on the back of your neck standing up, eyes fluttering shut as she kissed the juncture of where your neck and shoulder met.
You whined when she pulled away, desperate to have her remain right where she was. “Please…”
He tutted, hand reaching up to wrap lightly around your throat and tilt your head to face him. “You know how to get what you want.”
The words died in the back of your throat. You wanted to shout them, tell them the truth to finally have their touch remain in the places that you needed, but you could barely form a sentence. Layla’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear, her breath washing across your cheek, sending a shudder down your spine. They were doing this on purpose. Breaking you slowly with every caress, every whispered word, because they wanted you as much as you needed them.
“I remember you telling me he was pretty,” she breathed, eyes flashing to Marc’s over your shoulder. “Didn’t you?”
You nodded quickly, choking on your stuttered breath when his hips jolted up into yours. He’d placed you on his lap in such a way that your cunt now pressed directly against the bulge in his pants. They would drag this out until you were past the point of begging—half mad with built up pleasure that you wouldn’t be able to function without their help. In a way it made you want to remain silent even more.
“You’ve gotta speak up,” Marc said. “I know you want to.”
Whimpering, you shifted in his lap, breath stuttering when Layla’s fingers began unbuttoning your top. There was no doubt in your mind that they owned you completely. That you’d die for them if asked, because you couldn’t imagine living your life without them being a part of it. The road to get here was a long one; filled with enough twists and turns to leave you dizzy.
Yet this…their touch, their love, it was all you dreamed about and more.
“C’mon baby.” His voice had turned dark, an edge to it you’d only heard when he was in the midst of a fight.
You supposed this was a fight in itself.
“Be good for us,” Layla breathed, lips ghosting along your shoulder as she stripped the shirt from your body—chills spreading rapidly down your spine with a mere brush of her breath against your skin. She knew the effect she held over your body—your being—and right now she was wielding it to her strength.
Molding you to her hands, her wants and desires. Just as Marc was doing.
“He was—oh—” Her hands dipped lower, opening the button of your pants with ease, fingers trailing along the waistband.
Marc’s hand still remained around your throat—a grin spreading across his lips as he watched you shudder with every stroke of Layla’s touch. He’d told you before that there was nothing he enjoyed more than seeing you like this. Fully pliant in their holds—nothing occupying your mind except them.
“I was what?” he asked softly, his other hand curving around your hip.
“You were pretty,” you gasped, head falling back against Layla’s shoulder as her fingers dipped into your already soaked underwear.
“Oh baby,” she cooed. You could feel her smile press against your cheek. “Is this all for us?”
Nodding, you rocked your hips forward, desperate for her touch to press even further along your cunt. She did as you wished. Spread your slick up to your clit and circling it lightly until you were shaking in her hold, chest heaving. Marc made quick work of your bra with one hand, tossing it to the side before leaning forward and taking a nipple into his mouth.
You dug your hand into his hair, a broken moan tearing from your throat as he laved his tongue over the peaked bud, tugging on it lightly with his teeth to elicit another strained sound from you. They were ruthless in their suppleness. Both exacting their pleasure on your body to drag you right where they wanted you. A never-ending game of give and take between the three of you, and you thrived off it.
“So beautiful like this,” Layla murmured, biting along your jaw, her fingers speeding up along your clit and drawing sounds from you that made her head spin. “Sitting on Marc’s lap like a goddess.”
He growled against your breast, biting into the side of it with an edge that made you jolt. He knew you liked a taste of pain with your pleasure—something he found he rather sided with as well. Nothing too hard, never enough to rip you out of the daze they put you in, but perfect enough to heighten in. The tighter grip you had on his hair told him how you reacted—his lips curving into a smile.
“You’ve got a perfect body.” His thumb rubbed into the side of your neck soothingly. “You fit our hands like you were fucking made for us.”
Layla hummed in agreement, her lips pressing against yours and guiding you into a kiss that left you gasping for breath. Their praise brought you into a new kind of high—sending your body into overdrive. It was their way of driving you insane, of reminding you who loved you at the end of the day. Who was there to protect you and keep you safe. 
You never felt more at ease—more at home—than when you were in their arms.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” she whispered.
“Me first,” Marc retorted, sliding his tongue into your mouth with practiced ease. He kissed you as if he was finally breathing for the first time in ages. As if you were the only source of oxygen for the both of them.
“She’s close,” Layla said; the audible squelch of her fingers on your cunt now mixed with your panted breaths, your eyes barely open as they took what they wanted from you.
He groaned, grinding his hips up into yours and pressing Layla’s fingers even harder against your clit. That was all you needed to go tumbling off the edge with their names on your lips. She turned your head with her other hand and caught your lips in a sloppy kiss of teeth and tongue. You felt her hand fall to lay over Marc’s that still remained on your neck—both of them reminding you that you were theirs. No one else could have you, no one could take you.
Your mind whited out as pleasure shattered across your body, until the only thought in your head was of them.
“That’s it,” Marc encouraged you, his teeth digging into your neck before sucking the skin into his mouth. “So perfect for both of us.”
“Our love,” Layla breathed, ceasing her movements when your hand shot down, gripping her wrist.
You barely opened your eyes long enough to see Marc lift her fingers to his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. It caused heat to curl low in your stomach, a feeling of need building up with every passing second you watched him lick her fingers clean. You wanted them again, wanted to be the one who tore pleasure from their body just as they did to you. Marc’s heated eyes met yours, a grin curving on his lips. He’d gotten a taste of the thing he craved most and now he wanted to drown in it—in you.
You’d have them both by the end of the night. This you knew for sure.
220 notes · View notes