#layla el faouly fanfic

[midgardian-witch]

Lazy Mornings

You wake up with only Layla sharing your bed and decide to enjoy the time together.

Part of both my Loving You (Plural) series and one of my entries for the Moon Knight Bingo.

AO3 [MASTERLIST]

Body Worship - Moon Knight Bingo

tags: gn!reader | body worship | nipple play | cunnilingus | polyamory | the Moon Boys are mentioned but don't appear in this one | mainly me waxing poetically about how fucking gorgeous Layla is

ships: Layla El Faouly/Reader

tagged: @spacecowboyhotch @moonknight-events @juneknight @eyelessfaces

"I won't lie and say I am not happy about having you all to myself for once," Layla murmurs in between yawns. 

You snort and shake your head against your pillow. Layla just grins at you, happy to have made you laugh. She's not wrong though. It's become a rarity that you get to spend time with only one of your lovers nowadays. You love having all of them around and yet it's nice to have the focus of one of them solely on you for once, and to have your focus solely on one of them in return. 

Steven had to get up early for work and hates to wake either of you (even though you know Layla is a light sleeper and probably wakes up each time anyway) so instead you know you'll be greeted by a sweet little note on Gus' fish tank once you leave the bed. 

If you leave the bed. 

You cuddle closer to Layla, limbs entangled under the blankets, and kiss her cheek. She looks so beautiful in the morning light with the early sunlight filtering through the curtains. Her hair looks unbelievably soft and you can smell her shampoo from where you are pressed against her. And her eyes, gods you could stare into them forever, the sun making her dark brown eyes shine like molten gold. You're not surprised Taweret chose Layla as her Avatar, to you she might as well be a goddess herself. 

"Any plans for today? Seems like we got the flat to ourselves,” she comments, pulling you out of your reverie, “For the next few hours at least."

Layla pulls you deeper into her arms and your lips find the crook of her neck, placing feather-light kisses on her soft skin. 

"Can we just stay in bed for a bit?", you murmur against her neck. The only answer you get is a satisfied hum, your lover thoroughly enjoying your undivided attention and affection. 

You know she can feel you grin against her as your kisses slowly drift further from her neck down to her chest. You linger over her breastbone, your hands traveling over her sides, slowly inching upwards. 

Layla's delighted giggles turn into breathy moans as your fingers faintly brush her nipples. She wiggles against you, displeased by your teasing. She can feel you chuckle, the warm puffs of air making her skin tingle. 

"I'll make it worth your while," you continue as you slowly pull up the tank top she uses as a night shirt. Layla hums affirmingly and sits up so you can undress her more easily, tossing the blankets off of you in the process. With quick, eager motions you remove her top, her breasts now on full display. Your eyes travel over her body, taking in her uncovered skin like she is a work of art to be admired. 

Layla reaches out to you, her hand covering yours. "You know you can touch me, right? You did a great job with it just a minute ago." The impatience in her voice makes you feel giddy and you slowly raise her hand to your mouth. Your lips graze gently over the back of her hand before you lazily place gentle kisses all over it. "Why hurry? We have so much time," you counter as you turn her hand and continue placing kisses on her palm. 

Layla groans in frustration and you can see her trying to be subtle, rubbing her thighs together. Your soft touches seem to already be having an effect on her. "Do I have to beg? Is that it?" Your grin spreads even wider as you continue to pepper her wrist with feather-light kisses. With a thoughtful hum you let go of her hand. "I'm not going to say no to that. Although we should probably not tell the boys that I can make you beg so easily," you give her a wink before slowly crawling over her, "Can't have them get competitive or else none of us will ever leave this bed again." 

Layla's laughter dies in her throat as you lean down and wrap your lips around one of her nipples. An elated moan escapes her perfect lips, her hand that you were just covering with kisses grabbing onto your shoulder to keep you in place. 

You chuckle against her skin, lazily switching between swirling your tongue around the already hardened nipple and sucking on it. You're using one hand to hold you upright over Layla's half-naked body while you tease the neglected nipple with your other, gently rubbing and twisting it between your thumb and pointer finger. 

Layla makes no attempt to stifle her moans, her sighs of pleasure filling the room. The sound is music to your ears; it's been too long since you had Layla all to yourself so you were going to make the most of it. 

Once you've spent a good time paying attention to each nipple with both your mouth and fingers you lean back to admire your handiwork. Her nipples, erect and flushed from the continuous stimulation, all but beg you for more, to be teased and tasted and bitten. Layla looks up at you, glassy-eyed, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. She can't help squeezing her thighs together at your heated gaze, desperate for any friction against her cunt. 

"Tell me what you want," you coo seductively, "Tell me and I'll give it to you." In response Layla spreads her legs, wide enough for you to settle in between them. "Eat me out?" she offers, more a question than a demand. You hum quietly as you kneel between her legs, your hands traveling over her soft thighs, slowly inching closer towards her underwear. Your fingers skim the frilly lace (a beautiful gift from Marc), goosebumps forming in response to your touch. 

"I can do that," you reply. Bending forward, hands holding onto her thighs for support, you start to place teasing kisses over her stomach down towards her clothed cunt. She gasps and shifts under you, eagerly chasing your touch. Your lips linger on the line between skin and cloth, your eyes never leaving her face. 

Layla groans, clearly exasperated by your stalling. "You're such a tease. Worse than Jake, I swear," she tilts her hips up, trying to grind against your face but to no avail. You lean backwards with a smirk. "Don't let him hear that. He's pretty proud of being a little shit," you counter and give her a sly wink. She rolls her eyes with a snort. "Then don't try and compete with him for that," her lips twist into a smirk of her own. Tenderly she grabs your chin, slowly tilting your head up to look deep into your eyes. "Or do you want me to beg before I can get your mouth on me?" she asks again, raising an eyebrow. 

You grin like the cat who caught the canary. “Now, while I would love to hear that,” you croon as you slowly push down her underwear, unveiling her already slick pussy, “I had something else in mind.” With a little help from Layla you get her panties off of her and put them to the side. She spreads her legs invitingly and you lean down to kiss her mound. “Let me worship you,” you whisper against her skin before you swipe your tongue slowly between her folds. 

Layla gasps as your tongue draws lazy circles over her clit. You gather more of her slick on your tongue, savoring her taste, before wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. Layla's hands try to find purchase, to draw you even closer into her, finally holding onto your shoulders in a tight grip. You giggle against her pussy, delighted by her eagerness. 

“Tell me how you want it, habibti . This is all for you,” you murmur lovingly. Before she can answer you give her clit another gentle suck and Layla curses under her breath. “Fuck, I don't know what's going to do me in first: your sweet-talking or your tongue on my clit,” she says breathlessly. Your smile turns into a smug grin. “Either way it's going to be my mouth that does it. So just relax and let me treat you like you deserve.”

It took you a while to be this bold with your affection, a little intimidated by how ridiculously gorgeous your partners are at first, but now it comes as easy to you as breathing. And to your knowledge your partners thoroughly enjoy that side of you too. 

“Finger me?” Layla asks as if you could tell her no. Slowly you slide one finger inside her, thrusting in and out at a leisurely pace before adding a second finger soon after. “‘s this good?” you ask, pulling your mouth away from her dripping cunt just enough for her to hear you clearly. Her walls clench around your fingers, urging you to keep going deeper. She nods quickly. “Stop talking and keep going or I swear I'll-” Layla gasps as you dive back down between her legs to devour her. You curl your fingers inside her cunt, searching for the spot that will make her see stars. When a strangled moan escapes her lips you know you found it. Your fingers and mouth work in tandem, guiding Layla higher and higher towards her peak. 

“Don't stop, please- oh fuck ”

Her thighs clamp down around your head, keeping you in place as her body trembles under your touch. Her walls tighten around your fingers as Layla comes undone. With your face buried in her pussy you can't see her face as she cums - to your great displeasure - but you feel her body tense with her orgasm and hear her high-pitched moans reverberate. 

Slowing your pace, you gently finger Layla through her orgasm. You apply gentle pressure to her clit with your tongue before switching to placing tender kisses over her mound instead, careful not to overstimulate her. Only once her breathing has calmed down and you feel her stop twitching around your fingers do you remove yourself from her cunt. 

Your lips and chin are soaked with her juices, as is your hand. With a satisfied smile you pull yourself up and take in the vision before you. Layla looks even more beautiful than before - if that is even possible. Her hair is a mess, some curls stick to her face while others frame her head like a halo. The rays of the rising sun reflect off of her now sweat-slick skin and give her an almost ethereal glow as she lays there between the crumpled sheets. 

She looks divine . 

“Get down here and cuddle with me,” Layla is beaming, arms outstretched towards you, beckoning, “I want to take care of you too.” You lay down next to her and as soon as you hit the mattress she is already pulling you into her embrace. “You don't have to,” you mumble as you nestle into her, “This was for you.” 

It's quiet as you lay there, limbs a tangled mess. The only sounds filling the air are your breathing and the beating of your hearts. 

“We should probably get up soon. Be productive or something,” you groan as you slowly try to get back up - to at least wash your hands and your face. Layla pulls you back down before you can even sit up straight. “I think,” she whispers into your ear seductively, “we can be plenty productive right here.” You laugh quietly and shake your head. 

“Why do I have the feeling that your definition of that word is very different from mine?”

“What do you mean? Don't you think a round two would be productive?”

Her lips trail down your neck, her teeth nipping at your skin teasingly. You gasp as her hands find their way under your pajamas. 

“Well, if you say it like that, who am I to argue?”

[drunkenbagel]

day three: overstimulation - layla el faouly

kinktober masterlist

Pairing: Layla el Faouly x f!reader Word count: 1,6k Contents/warnings: +18 MINORS DNI, wlw, one bed trope, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n, oral sex (f receiving), v fingering, use of pet names, overstimulation, A/N: i'm so sorry i'm publishing it late, i had some stuff going on and couldn't, i'm really sorry!!! hope you still like it :')

You knew Layla was a force of nature when you first met her. Fierce, strong, and so, so beautiful.

You two met when Marc called you for help on a mission, and the hotel had only two remaining rooms available.

“I've got enough sharing my head, I'm not sharing a room” he'd said, taking one of the keys with him as he left.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me” Layla said with an annoyed tone when she first opened the door to the room you were going to share.

You walked in, and saw what had caused her to have that reaction; the double bed instead of two twin ones. Was the thought of sharing a bed with you so bad? Did she find you that unattractive? You thought you had a couple of moments during the time you shared, but seems like it was you who only had an infatuation with her. That made you get a surge of shame in your body.

“I can sleep on the floor, they have some spare pillows and blankets. I've done it before, it's no issue” you said in the most neutral voice you could, while leaving your bag on the floor and starting to walk towards the closet.

“What? No! I didn't- I didn't mean it like that” she said, taking your arm to stop you. The touch of her hand against your skin made you feel like it had ignited you inside, and you inhaled sharply. Layla took her hand away like it burned, and you felt that shameful feeling rise again. “We can share the bed. It's fine. As long as i get to choose the side I'll be sleeping in” she said in an awkward chuckle.

“Sure” you said, going to the bathroom to change. While in there, you cursed at yourself for blushing at the slightest stupid touch of her skin against yours. Before going out again, you splashed your face with cold water to try and relax a little.

It's just a stupid bed, calm down.

You walked back to bed, and she was already tucked in.

“Oh, sorry if I made you wait. You can turn the light off if you want to now” you said while you got into bed.

“It's fine” she said with a small smile. God, she looked so beautiful in the dim light of the bedside lamp. You swallowed hard, and fought the urge to kiss her push lips.

You turned to your side as she turned the lamp off, and with your heart beating so hard that you were sure Layla could hear ir, you tried your best to fall asleep.

Next time you woke up, it was the middle of the night, and you could feel Layla's arm over your hips. When you opened your eyes, you barely could make anything up until your eyes adjusted a little to the dark.

Then your breath hitched.

Layla was fast asleep, face so close to yours that you could feel her breath fanning your cheeks. You felt your pulse spiking. Having her this close made you feel giddy, heat pooling in your lower stomach. You could kiss her. You could just lean in to those beautiful, plush lips and let them touch yours. A small, quick peck wouldn't wake her up... Right?

Well, fucking dammit.

You took a stray curl of hers off her face softly, not wanting to wake her. You stared at her face, then her lips, and leaned in to leave a small kiss on her lips. Fuck, they were so stupidly soft. It was only a couple of seconds, but when you opened your eyes while pulling away, she was staring at you.

“Oh god, I'm- I'm so sorry! I just-” you said panicking, mortified that you had gotten caught. You were going to keep going on your apologetic rant, but Layla moved the hand on your hip to the back of your head and pulled you in for a kiss.

It took you a second to process that you were kissing Layla. That she was actually kissing you back.

She tugged softly at your hair, making you open your mouth in a moan in the middle of the kiss, granting her tongue access to your mouth. The kisses were messy, full of need. Layla moved to be on top of you, and you both pulled away for air. You looked at each other with ragged breaths, and a small chuckle from her made you elicit one of your own.

“I wanted to do that for a while” she whispered against your lips.

“I thought you didn't want anything to do with me, much less share a bed with me. Even less kiss me” you said as your kissed her again.

“Oh I want to do a lot with you. To you. Believe me” she said as she kissed down your neck.

Her hands started to creep under your shit until they found your already hardened nipples, and brushed her fingers over them, making you moan softly.

“I'm gonna take so many more of those out of you tonight” she whispered on your ear as she started to kiss down your neck, pulling your shirt up. “Take it off.”

Her commanding tone made your cunt clench, and you did as ordered. She started leaving a trail of kisses down your body as she touched your chest, and when she reached your hips, he tugged at your pants, taking them off along your underwear.

“Is this all for me?” she said as she licked her lips and kissed your thigh, seeing your glistening pussy. “Such an eager and needy little thing, aren't you?”

Her voice and words only made you whimper in response, which she took as a yes. You gasped when you felt her tongue lick all the arousal that was leaking out of you, the touch of her fingers following after. She got a finger inside of you, eliciting a gasping moan out of your lips as you gripped the bedsheets.

“Please, Layla- Please I need-”

“What does my pretty girl need?” she said in a low voice that just grew your arousal. “Say and it will be my pleasure to help baby”

“I need- I need more, please” you said, feeling giddy from her moving finger inside of you.

“Good girl.”

She added a second finger as she lapped at your clit, sucking and biting it softly. It was too much. Her fingers were curved and touching every right spot, and soon after you could feel the familiar heat pooling on your belly.

“Fuck, Layla, I'm close- I-”

“Cum for me baby, let me taste your sweet release on my lips.”

Why did she had to sound do fucking hot?

It wasn't much later that your release crashed over you like a wave, tugging at Layla's hair softly as you moaned her name. She let you ride it along her fingers, but after slowing down a little, she didn't stop moving her fingers in and out of you, and neither did her mouth. Instead, she added a third finger, making you moan loudly at the sweet intrusion, and you could feel her satisfaction as she continued to eat you out.

Your sensations were still on fire after the orgasm, and not long after you felt your body getting ready for the next wave of an orgasm. You started whimpering as she kept abusing your clit and hole with her mouth and fingers, chanting her name like a prayer.

Layla was also greedy, and she knew it as soon as she took the first lap at your soaking pussy. Fuck, you tasted so good, she could eat you out for hours.

Arching your back, you felt your orgasm snap again, more intensely than the one before. You were now shaking and gripping the sheets for dear life.

“Layla- Layla it's too much, I-” you babbled, but even though she took her fingers off and licked them clean after, she put her mouth on your dripping cunt and kept eating you out as if she was starving. Your body felt like it was lit on fire, legs shaky and back arched.

It was too much. The feeling was too much for you to handle. Layla's mouth felt too good and she was showing no signs of stopping. She kept playing with her tongue on you, and after the next orgasm came crashing down, you started whimpering and thrashing, but she kept your thighs on their place with her strong hands.

She continued to do that for what felt like an eternity, enjoying every second of it. Your vision was blurry and you had lost count of how many times you came, but she kept greedily lapping and kissing and eating your pussy like a starved woman. You were just too fucked out, moaning and whimpering her name over and over.

When she decided it was enough, your legs felt tingly and jelly-like. She got up to get a small towel and clean you up as you mumbled a thank you. She came back to bed, taking you in between her arms.

“I hope you know I loved eating your pretty little pussy, expect some good morning in the morning” she said, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You sighed with a chuckle. “Good night, beautiful”

Next morning Marc looked at you funny when you all met.

“Good night's sleep?”

“Everything great” you answered with a slight blush.

“Yeah, Steven told me so. Turns out the walls are pretty thin here.”

Your face went bright red of embarrassment as Layla chuckled.

“Ah, fuck.”

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Florence

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

Pairing: Layla El-Faouly x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

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

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

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

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

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

Mine. 

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

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

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

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

This time had started innocently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She groans. “Fuck, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masterlist here.

[tom-whore-dleston]

A Royal Longing

Pairing ▹ princess! Layla El Faouly x princess! f. reader

Genre ▹ angst with some fluff

This fic contains ▹ fairytale (Snow White) AU, forbidden love, wlw, heartbreak, dark magic, death by poison, revival

Word Count ▹ 2,746

Summary ▹ I wish that it could be like that | Why can't we be like that? | Cause I'm yours

Notes ▹ Here is my very late submission for @the-slumberparty's I Spy (week 1) challenge. After a whole month of overthinking this piece, I finally just allowed myself to write it without being hard on myself. This is unbeta'ed so I take full responsibility if it's meh. Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed!

You watched from the top of the grand staircase as Princess Layla waltzed across the dance floor with your older brother, Prince Marc. A tear fell from your eye as they closed the space between them, lips sealing together like the promise to marry one another. 

Your kingdom was threatened by a magical but evil force. Driven by fear, the king and queen of the neighboring land formed an alliance with your parents against the evil force they call Agatha Harkness. Part of that alliance was arranging a marriage between their only child with your brother, Marc.  

The day you met Princess Layla was the day your life began. Your parents threw a ball in honor of Marc’s birthday, which turned out to be an excuse to discuss diplomacy with Layla’s parents. You were never one for dancing until the curly haired princess pulled you onto the dance floor and spun you around in circles. Dancing with her felt like floating on a cloud, and you were basking in the sunshine of her laughter. 

The two of you eventually stepped out for fresh air, strolling side by side to the garden. You shared your life stories, your hopes and dreams, and everything in between. She even taught you more dance steps, claiming that dancing would impress a suitor when the time comes. However, this hypothetical suitor meant nothing to you as she caressed your frame, guiding you with each step in the middle of the garden. This moment under the moonlight stirred emotions you couldn’t explain to a single soul for numerous reasons. That night, before you succumbed to slumber, you thanked the stars and heavens that they held your secret with care.

After the ball, Layla visited the castle often, sharing her time between Marc and you. Your brother made many attempts to win her affection, however, he was not all that successful. Understanding how close you were to Layla, Marc sought advice from you on how to woo her. Even after explaining in full detail everything to know about the princess, he was oblivious to your affections towards her. 

You were close to Marc. In fact, you looked up to him. While you were growing up, Marc was obviously the preferred child. He was a boy; a boy who already carried the kingdom in the palm of his hand at birth. Because the king and queen neglected you in favor of Marc, he was the one that always looked out for you. He taught you everything you needed to know. It was only fair you returned the favor, even if it meant hiding your true feelings for Layla and helping your brother win her hand in marriage.

The day finally came when Marc and Layla announced their engagement to one another. You congratulated them with open arms, but your heart shattered to a million pieces as they embraced you back. Later that evening after supper, you sat in your chamber painting Layla wearing the diamond necklace gifted by Marc. Her image was ingrained in your memory that you didn’t need her posing in front of you to create the masterpiece on your canvas. You were so entranced by your painting, you were unaware of Layla’s presence in your room.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, grasping your attention.

You stuttered, “Oh, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No, my apologies. I should have announced my presence.” Layla paused for a moment before tucking a chunk of her curls behind her hair. “I’ll come back-”

“Wait, please stay!” You interjected. She took a seat beside you, studying the portrait of herself. 

“I love how you painted my eyes.” The princess smiled like a flickering light in the darkness. “They look so full of joy. As if the innocence never died in them.” Although her voice faded, her smile never did. You turned to her, gazing into the brown orbs she spoke of.

“Something Marc taught me is that the world that I see through my own eyes is what I perceive as reality. As an artist, my goal is to be able to paint my reality, and show people the world I see.” You chuckled before continuing. “My paintings used to be so gloomy and dull. That was until I met you. I have had the absolute privilege of seeing the beauty and joy in you and putting my reality of you into color.”

You didn’t realize you had started crying until Layla wiped away your tears with her gloved hand. She stroked your cheek, holding it tenderly.

“I don’t want to marry Marc.”

Your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat. “W-why? But my brother is-”

“Your brother is kind, handsome, and noble,” Layla sighed, “but he doesn’t see me. In fact, nobody sees me the way you do.” 

You were in disbelief. Was this a dream? Or a nightmare? Why couldn’t you wake up from it? You kept stumbling over your words until Layla cut in again.

“I don’t love Marc. I love you, Princess!” Her words slipped from her quivering mouth, but you couldn’t stop them from bursting into shards on the floor.

“I-” You shook your head. “Layla, Marc loves you. He’s counting on you to protect our kingdom. Our parents are counting on you. Even the people.” You began to pace the room with the princess following behind you.

“I don’t care about them. I mean, yes, I do. But none of them matter to me the way you do.” Layla tugged on your arm, forcing you to face her with hot tears bleeding into your makeup. “You mean to tell me that after that painting of me, you don’t love me, too?”

“Of course I do.” 

“Then, why won’t you say yes to me?”

“You know exactly why!” You shouted louder than you wanted. Layla jumped in fear, sniffling as the tears stained her cheeks. As if an arrow pierced through your heart, you collapsed to your knees, muffling your sobs with your hand. Your body trembled as the gleeful illusion you became familiar with disappeared amongst your bleak reality. Layla stooped down to your level, unclasping the diamond necklace to put around your neck. She tilted your chin up so you could lock eyes with her one more time.

“If you can’t fully embrace my love, then I hope you can accept this token of it. You don’t have to keep putting your brother before yourself. You, too, deserve the kind of love Marc receives.” With that, she walked out of your room, leaving you with a crack in your heart that no painting or necklace can mend for you. 

A week went by since you turned Layla away. You were bedridden with no interest in any form of outside interaction. Not even Marc bribing you with a horseback riding session could lure you out of your room. He was secretly hurting, not knowing what was eating his younger sister. But no one felt the pain that Layla was experiencing every time she’d pass by your chambers, fighting the urge to knock on the door and wait for your voice on the other side.

Your parents, along with Layla’s, hosted another ball for Marc and Layla’s engagement. As much as you wanted to hide away in your chambers and paint until your hands cramped, you couldn’t miss this tremendous celebration for your brother. You changed into a pastel dress, complimented by the diamond necklace from the woman you yearned for. Once you arrived to the ball, your gaze landed on the couple to be, wrapped around one another, preparing for the waltz.

And so, you were left to watch them dance their way towards their marriage. Tears glossed over the gut-wrenching reality that was displayed for you. You could no longer stand to let your happiness slip from you so you quickly escaped to your chamber.

Suddenly, a cloaked figure with dark tinted hands stopped you in your tracks. You gasped, almost stumbling to the floor.

“Oh, my dear child, what seems to trouble you?” The figure croaked that sounded like an out of tune violin. 

“I’m sorry, you just startled me.” You tried to pass her but she stood in your way. 

“Never mind that. Now, tell me, what seems to trouble you?” You glanced over at Layla, who was still in the arms of your brother. The person under the cloak followed your gaze, nodding in understandment.

“A forbidden love. I should have known by the way you looked at her.” Even though their face was hidden by their hood, you could still sense their grin. “Lucky for you, I can help with that.”

Before you could question them, a dark violet cloud swallowed you whole, blocking your vision of the outside world. The purple substance diffused and you found yourself in your chambers. The door slammed shut on its own, causing your heart to race and your breathing to increase. The tinted hands pulled down the hood to reveal the witch, Agatha Harkness. You gasped again, this time, your fear at an all time high.

“I-it’s y-you!” You stammered. “You’re the witch! I’ve heard stories about you and how you want to destroy us.”

Agatha cackled, doubling back with her hand on her chest. Her laugh was even more frightening than you had imagined. 

“Wow!” Agatha sarcastically exclaimed. “That’s the narrative your mommy and daddy are shoving down your throat. You royals always have a way of twisting my words!” She paced the room, speculating every crevice of the room as if she was an architect ready to rebuild your room with her magic. “I don’t want to destroy the kingdom.” Her piercing eyes glared at the painting of Layla, angry purple flames scorching through her hands. “I want to destroy that wretched little brat! Princess Layla El Faouly.” She aimed one of her hands at the portrait, and shot a purple flame at it, causing it to disintegrate. You rushed towards the pile of ash on the floor, your heart sinking as rage and sadness filled the beating muscle inside you.

“How dare you-” You were silenced as Agatha waved a finger in the air, zipping your lips tightly together. The witch smiled in satisfaction. 

“As I was saying. Once upon a time, I was the fairest of the land. Everyone, even the mighty king himself, thought I was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. That was until the queen came along and they gave birth to your beloved princess.” Agatha found the mirror that stood tall against the wall. She walked towards it, staring at her reflection with melancholy.

“Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” Her reflection swirled like a storm until the image of Layla dancing with Marc appeared before her. Another flame hit the mirror, causing it to crack in the middle. You tried to scream for help but Agatha’s spell prevented you from opening your mouth. 

“I’m sure you are wondering how you fall into this, my dear.” Agatha paused before conjuring a crisp, red apple out of thin air. “This is no ordinary apple. It contains magic!” She whispered the last sentence as if it were its own spell. “With just one bite, all your dreams can come true, my dear.” All of a sudden, you twisted your eyebrows in interest with your head tilted. “You and your princess can live the happily ever after you both want. No need to worry about your brother, Marc, or your parents, or the kingdom. Heck, you don’t even have to worry about me bothering you two. Just you and Layla. And that’s it.”

Agatha handed you the apple. You studied the fruit with your fingers, making sure it was real and not a trick. The longer you held it in your hand, the more you believed that it was real. And the more you wanted to take a bite of the apple. 

“What do you say, my dear?” the witch inquired. You looked at her, pointing to her mouth. Agatha chuckled, forgetting that she sealed your lips shut, and withdrew her spell on you. 

“I really can have whatever I want?”

“Yes. The future is in the palm of your hands, my dear.” The dark haired woman stared back at you impatiently. You nodded, cupping the ripe fruit in your hands. The apple was so bright you could see your reflection in it. And so, you brought it to your mouth, taking a generous bite out of it. 

As you swallowed, your body instantly grew weak. The room turned into a fuzzy picture and the sound of Agatha’s evil laughter faded in your ears. You tumbled to the floor, your whole body turning numb and your eyes closed heavily. The bitten apple rolled out of your hand and the red turned to the darkest shade of black. As you succumbed to your tragic fate, images of you and Layla dancing in the garden to an unfamiliar, but soothing song played in your head. Then, everything went black.

A sense of loneliness overcame Layla at the end of the night. Marc broke off the engagement with her upon learning her obvious feelings for you. He was surprisingly calm about the whole thing. What mattered to him was that she was truthful to him and loyal to you. Plus, it was about time you had found someone worth living for.

Layla passed by your chamber, noticing the door slightly open. She called out for your name but heard no response. After calling out for you a few more times, Layla pushed the door open to find you lying on the ground unconscious. A distressed scream echoed through the hallway, alarming Marc and your parents.

“Please! I need help now!” She cried loudly, rushing to your side. Layla held your limp body in her arms, sobbing violently as she rocked you in hopes to wake you up. Marc comforted Layla while your parents immediately ran to find a doctor for you. He, then, found the rotten apple off to the side, inspecting it before shouting angrily.

“That witch, Agatha, got to her! She poisoned my beloved sister.” Marc began crying in rage, realizing there was nothing he could do to save you. This was no use to Layla either as she continued to cry against your cold body. She looked down at your lifeless face, caressing it like the first time she held you.

“My love, I am sorry I could not save you.” Her voice shook with melancholy as more tears streamed down her face. Layla ran her thumb over your cheek before hovering her lips over yours. She took a deep breath before pressing her soft lips against your chapped ones. They lingered there while she cried over your mouth. 

Layla pulls away in defeat. As she held you longingly, heat radiated your face, and slowly, to the rest of your body. Once Layla noticed this slight temperature change in you, she peered down at you in utter confusion. An abrupt gasp for air filled your lungs, causing you to aggressively cough out the bitten piece of apple from the back of your throat. Your upper body shot up and your eyes flew open.

Once your breathing became steady again, you frantically searched the room for the witch that poisoned you. You were babbling nonsense until the feeling of Layla’s soft touch against your hand brought you back to your senses.

“Agatha…she-”

“We know, kiddo, we know,” Marc responded calmly, leaning down next to you. He leaned his head against your shoulder, relieved that you were alive and well. Meanwhile, Layla beamed with joy and shock.

“We can worry about Agatha later,” Layla started. “We are just happy you are okay.” You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Marc and then back at Layla. As if reading your mind about them, Marc nodded in reassurance that your thoughts were correct.

You looked back at Layla. “I just wanted to be with you.” Your voice descended along with your head. “I still want you.”

The princess lifted your head with a sweet smile on her beautiful face. “We can be together, my love. Just say yes, and I am all yours.” Your smile matched hers and warm tears filled your eyes. 

“Yes, Layla, I do!” Like a pair of magnets, you and Layla kissed as if it would be the last time your lips would ever meet again.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Layla El Faouly Masterlist

[starryevermore]

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

something’s up ✧ layla el-faouly

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

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

pairing: layla el-faouly x fem!reader

word count: 775

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’d Marc go?” she asked. 

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

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

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

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

“I don’t understand.”

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

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

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

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

“Sounds perfect.” 

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

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

“…thanks for the advice,” Layla said. 

[tom-whore-dleston]

OH MY GOD I-I-I- DSGALKDGLAKHGHDAG

I am sosososososo happy you wrote for the challenge bc this is perfection!!! Honestly, if it weren't for the way you write Layla so poetically, I probably wouldn't simp for her as much as I do now. So thank you for making me fall in love with this gorgeous woman hehe 🙈🙈🙈 also I am obsessed with the fact that the moodboard has a purple theme bc its my fave color!! idk if you knew that already and intentionally made it purple or if its just a coincidence but either way I love it 💜💜💜

"Here, this one is free. I just was trying to separate my clothes. You know how it is, if I don't use different loads on whites and multicolors and blacks I think my mom will show up to yell at me."

omg I can just imagine her being all shy and awkward but in a cute way I love 😍😍😍 my mom would totally do the same thing tho ahahah

"Just being your friendly laundromat gal."

jdghadhghgj I just love this cute lil dork 🥹🥹🥹

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

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

lol I would totally get distracted too xD

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

THISSSSS!!!!! OH MYG OD I AM 😭😭😭😭 This was so beautifully written, you must share your secrets to writing such poetic lines like this

THANK YOU THANK YOU 3000 for sharing this piece for my challenge💜💜💜💜 I love you more than I can put into words 🫶🫶🫶🫶

encounter

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

Word Count: 700 words

Summary: Conversing with strangers have never felt so right.

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

Main Masterlist ・❥・Layla El Faouly Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, that's beautiful."

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

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

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

Then your stomach is heard. Aggressive and mighty rude.

"Long day?"

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

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

"Oh, you don't have to."

"Oh, I want to."

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

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

for updates please follow my library blog @fluffyprettykittylibrary

[silveme]

How it feels when Jake Lockley shows up unannounced in a mk fic where they still don’t know who he is yet

[bubuslutty]

if you litter, you're a bitch!

moon knight & reader - twitter crack au

a/n: special thanks to @runny-mascara for the help with the bit of Spanish in here. much love 💙 and this is for you anon, ask and you shall receive 💙

tags: @bobastayhigh @weblesstherains @h-leigh @unspokenmoon @ahookedheroespureheart @thursdaywritings @gebstargeb @softieekayy @fem-moony @peachjellypackets @pakhiya @darlinglittledevil @anixluxtt @mrs-cupidd @gebgeb @poeticabomination @i-love-sammwiches

[homeybadger]

Of Gods and Lattes (Part One)

Summary: When you- local coffee barista turned Avatar of an ancient Egyptian god- get kidnapped, you're thrust into a whole new world Warning(s): Non-detailed kidnapping of reader, mild non-graphic combat Note(s): I'm torn between a few possible deities in connection to this story: Thoth, Heka, Ra and Anubis. I'm open to any suggestions!

Coffee making had always been a kind of a personal ritual for you. Humming to the rhythm of the milk frother, each step was precise, measured. You'd often imagined that brewing a latte was akin to crafting a potion, each ingredient essential to the final result- smooth, energizing, and restorative. There was something special about it, providing tired mothers and businessmen alike with the necessary energy for their days. But, your shift was cut short when you were taken. You didn't remember the exact details- it all happened too fast. One moment, you were wiping down the counter after a busy lunch rush, and the next, someone grabbed you from behind, pulling you into an alley behind the café. A van. Darkness. Rope. Now, here you were, hands bound and sitting on the cold ground in some dilapidated warehouse. Cold metal presses against your wrists, the uncomfortable bite of handcuffs incessantly reminding you of your current predicament. You shift slightly, testing the restraints, and a wave of dull pain ripples through your body. Of course kidnappers weren't gentle. In front of you was a man. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing what looks like an approximation of tactical gear, face obscured by a mask. You narrow your eyes. This is the guy, the one who took you “Ah, you’re awake,” he says, his voice deep but trying a little too hard to sound intimidating. He paces slowly in front of you, his boots echoing in the room. You lean back- feigning more discomfort than you actually feel. It's difficult to feel very threatened when a literal god is nearby. "Yeah, guess I am. If this is about money, I’m not really-" “Money?” He cuts you off with a harsh laugh. “No, no. This isn’t about money.” He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. “I know what you are. I know who you serve.” At that, you raise an eyebrow. This should be good. "Anubis' power will be mine!" your captor croons, pacing once more like a professor rehearsing a lecture. You eye the crude symbols scrawled across the floor a bit behind him, white chalk instantly declaring their presence. They're meant to be ancient, powerful runes- instead, they look more like the artistic attempt of a child high on sugar. The symbols are sloppy, some even backward, and you swear a good portion of them are just random doodles. Whatever this guy thinks he's doing, it's nowhere near invoking anything close to Anubis. You feel him, your god, closer this time. Your captor continues his rant about power, the gods, and his supposed mastery of ancient Egyptian rites. Something about raising a man named Arthur from the grave. Arthur... Sparrow? Farrow? It was hard to hear behind his mask. You sigh internally, feeling the distinct thrum of your god's power settling behind you. "Anubis will rise," your captor says, voice reaching a crescendo, "and he will grant me dominion over life and death!" You can't help it. A chuckle slips past your lips. The man stops dead in his tracks, glare attempting to shoot daggers into your soul, "What's so funny?" You shake your head, biting your lip. "What?" "Your symbols." you gesture with your chin to the floor, "They're wrong. Even if Anubis was the one you were trying to summon, which- by the way, he isn't- this wouldn't work." His eyes narrow behind the mask, clearly thrown off. "What are you talking about? These are ancient runes of power, crafted by-" "By someone who hates you apparently." you interrupt, "You think you can bring death under your control with that?"

"You know nothing of these powers! Anubis will answer, and I will-" "You don't even want to summon Anubis." If it was physically possible for your captor to glare harder, you're sure he would have by this point. Your god stands in the corner, his eyes gleaming in the shadows. He doesn't speak, but his presence fills your soul with a sense of calm. Of inevitability. "What?" "Anubis is about funerary rites, guiding souls," you continue, "not... whatever it is you're aiming for here. Osiris is the one you're thinking of with this resurrection business." Your captor tenses, fist slowly curling into a ball. "You said you know what I am, you have to have assumed I researched things." He scowled, clearly thrown off by the correction, but before he could respond, the door slams open. She's quick, moving with a grace that immediately makes it clear she's not here to talk things out. You've seen her before- the woman who's been making appearances in the headlines recently, the Scarlet Scarab. Her appearance is striking, strong and purposeful, like she's not here to take nonsense from anyone. But it's what you see just behind her that really makes your breath snag in your throat. Hovering over her shoulder, watching with an intense curiosity, is the goddess Taweret. You almost wave- an instinctive gesture, like you’re greeting someone you recognize- but then you remember your hands are securely bound. Khonshu is there too, looming at the edge of the room, his towering skeletal form and crescent-shaped staff impossible to ignore. You’ve heard of Moon Knight too- another vigilante working alongside the Scarlet Scarab some days. Khonshu’s presence is cold, oppressive, but you know he’s not here for you. The Scarlet Scarab strides toward your captor, her expression hard. “It’s over,” she says flatly, no room for argument in her voice. Your captor stumbles backward, panic setting in. He gestures once more toward the chalk symbols on the floor, muttering something incoherent about power and magic. “Anubis is not coming to help you,” you say, unable to keep the exhaustion out of your voice. “And even if he was, this isn’t how you’d get his attention. You’ve got it all wrong.” Your captor spins to face you, his face contorted with anger. “You think you know more than me? I’ve spent years studying these texts!” You feel the sheer, absolute weight of your god’s presence now, a calm certainty settling over you like a familiar blanket. Your god is always with you- but in moments like these, his influence becomes palpable. It’s as if he’s standing just behind you, his ancient hands resting on your shoulders, steadying your resolve. Relax, you hear him whisper in the quiet corner of your mind, a voice like rolling thunder, yet somehow soothing. He is a fool.You shift slightly, testing your cuffs again. The metal bites into your skin, but you feel the tension begin to give, a soft pulsing energy coiling beneath your skin. There. he whispers again, Got it. The cuffs click, and with one last movement, they snap open. “I’m telling you,” you say, that same hum of power underscoring your words, “You might’ve spent years studying those texts, but you don’t understand a thing.” The captor’s rant finally falters. His eyes flick toward the Scarlet Scarab, and for the briefest moment, you see his bravado finally crack. She takes a step forward, ready to finish things, but something shifts in the air. An unnatural pulse of energy, twisted and wrong. A shadowy figure emerges from the darkness, an ethereal form that seems to manifest out of thin air. Some kind of twisted guardian or specter, summoned by the captor’s sloppy rituals. A flash of white and silver darts forward, crescent shaped weapons glinting faintly in the lighting. Your captor slams the door open, fleeing into the night- and you decidedly ignore the coward in favor of ducking.

[moonyflesh]

“Technical Difficulties” - [Steven Grant x Reader]

WARNINGS: fluff, single use of profanity

CHARACTERS: Steven Grant (Moonknight; MARVEL)

🌙 .*.. ☎️

Your eyes flitted over the open book in your lap, a soft yawn leaving your plump lips as you flipped one of the yellowing pages, your eyes droopy with exhaustion (and possibly a hint of boredom).

Lulling your head back into the large leather couch, your eyes hazenly scanned the large studio apartment, analyzing what a mess it really was.

A cozy, almost welcoming mess, but a mess nonetheless.

You stood, stretching with a slight groan as your back popped, and you tossed the old, hardcover book on the messy coffee table by your calves height, your eyes scanning the papers that littered the surface, analyzing the Egyptian studies and documents for only a moment, before you tore your gaze away from the “fascinating hieroglyphs”.

A soft, oh-so-sweet accent rang through the flat, drawing your gaze through the seemingly endless bookshelves.

Steven.

The strong cockney accent had you walking through the maze, your fingers dragging along the spines of the old, once-read books on each shelf, rounding a corner to be greeted by the adorable sight of none other than your loving boyfriend, Steven Grant, hunched over his brand new phone.

Paper manuals splayed out over the already cluttered wooden desk in a frantic splash of white and black text, illuminated by a small desk-lamp as you raised your eyebrows in amusement.

A small pair of “grandma glasses” hung precariously close to the tip of his nose, slipping lower before he would mumble a complaint under his breath and push them back up with a sigh.

“Did you call for me, baby?” You asked, rubbing at your eyes with a soft yawn, before running your hands through your hair, undoing any knots.

“Ah- there’s my beautiful darling!”

He immediately seemed a pound lighter when his posture straightened up from the device in his hand, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours for a brief moment, a smile of simple relief on his chapped lips.

“Were you sleeping, love?” He quickly questioned, his eyebrows knitting at the sight of your sleepy gaze on him, but smiled and nodded when you shook your head negatively.

“No. Was just bored- i was reading one of your books and just could not find any interest in the concept of worshipping cats,”

He chuckled, faking a face of offense at your distaste in such an interesting matter.

Well, to him anyway.

You wandered to his side, elbows first on the desk, ignoring the stacked papers as your eyes curiously draped over the phone in his hand, noticing how it still was flashing the bright white greeting screen, the word “hello” in different languages flashing slowly over the screen like some sophomore’s lazy slideshow presentation.

“I uh- well, I’ll admit i’m still not fond of your begging me to get a new phone,”

He chuckled out almost bashfully, pushing his reading glasses up the bridge of his crooked, tanned nose once again.

“I cant figure this bloody thing out, love.”

You smiled down at the device, tilting your head in your hand, a small laugh passing your freckled lips.

“I did not beg. I simply…asked. It’s 2025, Steven. You couldn’t keep using that damn flip phone.”

Steven scoffed, a small, playful frown on his face as he cocked his head oh-so-cutely to the side, scrunching his nose at the fact that you were probably right.

You always were, though.

He smiled, nudging your shoulder with his own playfully, scooting back out of the desk’s main area in the rolling office chair.

“I’m just askin’ for sum help, darling,”

He smiled lovingly up at you, like you were the most angelic being out there. Like he was so hopelessly in love with you.

How true that really was, you couldn’t imagine.

Sighing, you gingerly took the phone out of his hand and began the basic set up, casually pointing at buttons and certain things he should remember in terms of having a smartphone, like where the flashlight ability was, etc.

“Alright, you need a password. Something that’ll keep your phone locked, until you wanna use it.”

His eyebrows curiously knitted together, as if that was the silliest thing in the world.

“A…a passcode? Ooo, it’s like a riddle every time i want to contact you! Well- except ill already know the answer every time-”

Your heart swelled with a small huff, his innocence too much for your corrupted thoughts as you laughed.

“Uh- yeah. Like a riddle. So….?”

He pursed his lips for a moment, scratching at his black curls that were messily unstyled and stuck to his forehead.

“Make it…make it your birthday, yeah? That way I’ll never forget, and you’ll always be able to get onnit.”

He looked up at you, his hands reaching out for your hips, drawing you to his seated form, letting you stand between his thighs with a soft smile, one that absolutely melted you, and you couldn’t resist.

“…my birthday?”

He nodded eagerly, rubbing mindless circles into your hips through your loose trousers, shrugging.

“Would you rather it be our anniversary date-?”

God how dearly you loved this man.

“No, no- i just-”

He leaned closer to you, leaning into your stomach as he buried his head into your tummy, nestling his forehead there.

“I don’t deserve you, Steven.”

The man guffawed, and playfully smacked the back of your thighs with a small huff, chuckling into your tummy.

“Now why would you ever say such a thing? Course you deserve me, love. you deserve the whole bloody universe, really,” You smiled, running your fingers through his hair with a puff of acceptance, shrugging, before moving your attention back to his phone, typing away at his contacts, which consisted of, well, no one.

“i’ll add my number in, yeah? you want anyone else in here yet? Donna, maybe?”

The woman’s name brought forth a shudder from the man snuggling against you earning a bark of laughter from your glossy lips.

“alright, i’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

Pressing a few numbers, you inputted your number into his contacts, labeling it with the simple first letter of your name, and a brown heart emoji.

You cheekily pinned yourself to the top of his chat thread, but didn’t bother to tell him how you did it, or how to undo it.

“alright, you’re all set up, sweet boy,” you purred out, tugging softly on some of his curls, the raven strands of hair that stuck to his forehead being swiped away by your fingers gingerly.

“i’m probably gonna take a nap, if that’s okay? might steal your bed- that couch is awful for my back-”

He nodded, his lips brushing over the skin above your pant line, where his fingers had rested over your belly button under your blouse, curiously tracing the soft, speckled skin and stretch marks around your hips.

“y-yeah, that’s alright love. i’m gonna finish this tour outline and then i’ll join.” He smiled up at you, shifting so his chin rested on the plush of your abdomen, a lazy smile tugging at his face when you pulled the magenta glasses off his crooked nose.

“handsome chap.”

“pretty gal.”

You both chuckled at each other’s words, before you leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, and pulled away with a soft grumble of a ‘mm’ from his chapped lips, and he scooted back into the large pine desk with a soft, overworked sigh.

“don’t be too long, okay? ‘s cold without you in bed,” You mumbled, wandering further and further away from him in open space of his flat, to the sand ring round his bed, where you kicked off your house shoes and socks, and climbed into his crisp sheets with a soft sigh, smiling at his ‘won’t be much longer!’ from across the room.

Your eyes fluttered shut when your nose inhaled his scent on one of his many pillows, a content groan leaving your lips as you laid on your side, yawning.

Sleep welcomed you more warmly with the knowledge that Steven had an easier way to contact you.

…

And it was a plus that he had a picture feature now.

…

you were definitely going to abuse that opportunity.

[evilbubu]

hey, (Jewish) moon knight fans, i need help!

I'm writing a blog post called "Is Khonshu really a deity in Moon Knight? | A Religious Analysis" and I need a little help with Marc's beliefs. I'm not Jewish so I'm worried I might've missed clues on Marc's level of belief in his faith because it's not explicitly stated out loud. He's Jewish and that's that. (I'm basing this mostly on the series because that's how i was introduced to mk. but comics fans are also welcome to participate.)

What I'm trying to ask is how do YOU think Marc feels about Khonshu calling himself a god? Does he really think Khonshu is a god?

I already have my conclusion and opinion on this matter. But the more information I can get the better.

Also, this is not just a question for Jewish mk fans but also those that know/study Judaism.

You can either answer in the tags, comments, reblogs, send me an ask or even dm. i dont care. just please if you have any opinions or thoughts about this (and evidence too) I would greatly appreciate it.

[dameronalone]

hello people does anyone have any fic recs for moon knight (tv) that are focused on canon dynamics, especially jake centric and his relationship with Marc and Steven (and khonshu), that aren't ableist or treat him as the "violent, evil alter," or any (post)canon ones focusing on Marc and laylas relationship that don't end with them splitting up or.. is all of this too much to ask akadhakfks

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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(A/N: This update took a lot longer than expected, because I really wanted to flesh out Darius Carter's character here. As we discovered in the latest chapter, he is the avatar of Anubis and the past life of our moon boys (Marc, Steven and Jake). I can't wait for you to finally meet him and discover how he first met our beloved Mira (you) and became an avatar. Sooooooo, I will no longer keep you waiting. Enjoy!)

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - LIEUTENANT DARIUS CARTER

The year was 1914, and the world was on the brink of an inferno. The scent of gunpowder and the sound of marching boots echoed through the continent, war slowly rising on the precipice as the entirety of mankind braced itself for a conflict of an unprecedented scale. As the avatar of Mayari, the goddess of the moon, your immortality has not shielded you from countless conflicts that you have witnessed over centuries. But something about this one felt different.

As the majority of Europe has been set ablaze with the flames of war, you found yourself walking on foreign soil, far from the shores of your own homeland. Leaving the tranquil halls of Harvard University where you had just earned your medical degree being a pensionada, you have answered the call of duty in the first world war as you were dispatched to the epicenter of battle.

Not as a warrior, but as a healer.

It was a time of uncertainty, and your only duty was to save lives and alleviate the suffering caused by the horrors of war. It was a daunting task, but you were determined to do your part.

It was in a military outpost in France where you crossed paths for the first time. The air in the barracks was thick with anticipation and a hint of apprehension as fresh soldier recruits started to fill the encampment, their faces a mix of youthful enthusiasm and the dawning realization of what lay ahead. 

You stood among the medical personnel sent by the American Red Cross, observing the nervous yet determined faces of your comrades as you were being introduced to one another and your regiment officer. Your crisp, white medical uniform felt heavy with responsibility, yet you bore it with the quiet strength of someone who had seen far more than her youthful appearance suggested.

It was here that you saw him for the first time.

His towering stature caught your eyes immediately, standing tall and proud among your peers as his striking hazel brown eyes seemed to pierce through the haze of bodies and chatter. He stood out, not just for his imposing presence but for the way he carried himself—confident, yet with an air of humility.

His olive brown skin was littered with nervous sweat as he saluted, his military uniform crisp and new.

"Lieutenant Darius Carter, reporting for duty," he said, his voice steady and confident.

“At ease, Lieutenant”, the regiment officer said, patting the young soldier’s back encouragingly before his eyes fell on you and your colleagues. “You will be in charge of this unit, together with our friends and allies from the American Red Cross. Why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

It was there, amidst the sea of young, eager faces, that your eyes met for the first time. Darius found himself tongue tied as you stepped forward, his heart pounding loudly in his chest as he witnessed you raising your right hand to salute before introducing yourself to your superiors and your fellow army recruits altogether. 

“Myrna Katigbak, reporting for duty,” you spoke, managing a polite smile despite yourself as you felt a hundred pairs of eyes on you. And yet, Darius's gaze stood out from the rest of your comrades, his eyes sparkling with bold admiration as he felt a strong connection in that moment, an inexplicable pull towards you that he couldn’t possibly ignore. 

Something about your enigmatic presence drew him in. Having grown up in a family with a deep connection to Egyptology, you were like an undiscovered pharaoh’s tomb to the young lieutenant waiting to be unravelled. And like any archaeologist and Egyptologists he has known his whole life, he has made it his first mission to seek you out and fulfill his quiet curiosity.

The next time you saw Darius Carter, it was in the makeshift soup kitchen. The scent of broth and bread filled the air as you ladled portions into bowls, your hands moving with practiced efficiency. Your fellow medics and soldiers, both weary and hungry after their intensive training, lined up at the long table with gratitude etched on their faces as you started to distribute lunch.

The young lieutenant was but a few steps away from the long table as the line progressed, almost chickening out as he neared. As he slowly approached, you looked up and met his gaze fully for the first time. Handing him his bowl of soup and a half loaf of bread, you noticed him trying to linger, his eyes bright with a mixture of hope and shyness as he struggled to find the words to speak.

“You can come back for seconds later, Lieutenant Carter”, you smiled, amused by his poor attempt at small talk which you find endearing.

“Right, thank you, Miss Katigbak”, he stammered as he ended up butchering the last name of your latest alias.

“You can just call me Myrna”, you corrected with an amused smile, bidding him goodbye as your attention shifted to the next man in need of sustenance. “I don’t expect everyone to get my last name right”

Darius internally groaned as he mildly shook his head, managing a soft chuckle despite himself as he continued moving forward and out of the lunch line. He found himself sitting at a nearby table, still gazing longingly at the long table where you were as he started to eat. As the hours slowly progressed and the early afternoon finally made its way, the number of people in the soup kitchen slowly dwindled until the only ones left were him and you.

This time around, Darius no longer allowed his nerves to get the best of him. With careful steps, he approached you once again, his eyes emanating the same spark from when he first laid eyes on you. 

“Excuse me, Miss Katigbak”, he asked, finally pronouncing your last name correctly with his rich, baritone voice that resonated pleasantly in the empty vicinity. “May I help you with anything?”

“You got it right this time,” you nodded in his direction as you started preparing your workspace for your upcoming chore. “And yes, you can help by carrying those empty bowls from the lunch tables and I’ll wash them here.”

He eagerly obliged, his movements careful as he balanced multiple trays of empty bowls on his hands. As soon as they piled up, he worked alongside you and shared your dishwashing workload. It was a mundane task for a soldier like him, but it didn’t matter as he had you to keep him company.

Besides, observing you from afar was becoming his favorite pastime. Your smooth and flawless skin was the first thing he noticed, a warm, sun-kissed brown with golden undertones that radiated health and vitality. Your hair, ebony-black and rich, fell in long, soft waves around your shoulders, framing your face perfectly. Your facade possessed a delicate heart-shaped contour that added a touch of youthful charm, along with high cheekbones and small, slightly upturned nose that accentuated your femininity. Your lips, full and naturally mauve, curved into a smile that reflected the warmth of your spirit, a genuine expression that made him feel at ease.

But it was your eyes that truly captivated him. Almond-shaped and chestnut brown, they glistened with warmth and mystery, capable of conveying joy, sorrow, and strength in a single glance. Framed by long, thick lashes, your gaze had an intensity that made those who met it feel uniquely seen. Your naturally arched brows added depth to your expression, giving you a look of quiet confidence.

“You never did go back for seconds, Lieutenant Carter” you spoke out loud, slightly startling Darius from his own reverie.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, his voice warm and earnest as you ended up laughing at his amusing response. 

“I meant you could go back in line earlier after finishing your meal to get a second serving of soup and bread”, you ended up explaining in which Darius sighed with pure relief. “I was waiting for you”

“Oh, right”, he seemed to relax at your friendly tone. “I’m too shy, unfortunately, so I will most likely die of hunger before I ask you for seconds, Miss Katigbak”

“You can just call me Myrna”, your amusement grew as you observed his quiet awkwardness which you find endearing. “Miss Katigbak is too formal and besides, it’s only the two of us here”

“Myrna it is”, Darius nodded, testing your name in his lips. “And please call me Darius, Lieutenant Carter is also too formal”

“Sure, Darius”, you obliged, prompting a warm smile from the lieutenant. “And now that introductions and our collective nerves are out of the way, care to tell me why you’re really here?”

"Well, to be honest, I was hoping to engage you in a conversation since we’ve first met”, Darius scratched the back of his head, his gaze locked onto yours. “I've heard that you're a medical graduate, and I thought I might pick your brain about a few things."

"I'm happy to help, but I have to warn you that I'm not the most exciting conversationalist”, you laughed softly. “I spend most of my time tending to wounds and doling out soup."

“That’s quite all right”, Darius's eyes sparkled with interest. "In fact, I have a penchant for Egyptology. Did you know that the ancient Egyptians were pioneers in the field of medicine?"

“Egyptology, you say?” you couldn't hide your surprise. "That's an unexpected interest for a soldier. But I must admit, it's a topic I find intriguing as well."

“I could spend all day talking about it if you’re interested”, Darius started, his positive energy overflowing at finding an outlet to share his interests. “I came from a family of archaeologists and Egyptologist, hence my knowledge”

As he started going on about his recent discoveries in the history of Egyptian medicine, you slowly fulfilled his curiosity by answering his questions in correlation to your current expertise, marking your longer interactions with the young lieutenant. He didn’t keep the conversation one-sided and challenged your insights, asking about your journey from America, your studies at Harvard, and your impressions of the war. You answered every question with polite brevity, finding his earnestness both charming and amusing as the two of you find companionship amidst the harsh reality of the ongoing war.

Your paths crossed once again in the crucible of battle. The frontlines were chaotic and brutal, the air filled with the deafening sounds of gunfire and explosions, serving as a constant backdrop to your work as a medic. You and Darius found yourselves deployed and stationed together with him as the commanding officer of your sector. As a medic, you worked tirelessly to fulfill your duty to save as many lives as possible and tended to the wounded from your unit, often under fire. 

It was during one of these intense battles that you truly began to see the depth of his character.

Darius was brave, almost to the point of recklessness, always throwing himself into the fray to protect his comrades. It was after one such skirmish that he found himself injured, and you were the one to tend to his wounds. As you worked, he watched you with a mixture of pain and admiration.

"You have a steady hand," he remarked, his voice strained but appreciative.

"Years of practice," you replied, focused on your task. "Hold still, this might hurt."

He winced but remained silent as you cleaned and bandaged his wounds. When you were finished, he looked at you with gratitude. "Thank you, Myrna. I don't know what I'd do without you here."

You smiled softly. "It's my duty, Darius. Just as it's yours to fight."

In the days that followed, your interactions grew more frequent and meaningful. You shared stories, hopes, and fears, finding solace in each other's company amidst the horrors of war. Your connection deepened, and it became clear that Darius's feelings for you were more than just admiration.

One fateful day, your barracks were under siege, almost overrun by enemy forces. The chaos was overwhelming as German soldiers started to storm the base. Recognizing the dire situation, Darius Carter ordered your unit as its commanding officer to evacuate.

“Myrna, take the others and head to the trucks”, he said, handing you a slip of paper with coordinates. “You and the rest of the surviving sector will be taken to the rendezvous point.”

“Understood, Lieutenant”, you nodded, saluting Darius as you started to help your fellow medics and other soldiers escape first, ensuring they reached the safety of the military trucks stationed on the outskirts. As the alarm sounded, signaling the order to retreat, you urged the remaining few of your comrades to make haste, barking orders left and right as you refused to leave anyone behind.

“Darius, you need to go”, you shouted amidst the chaos around you, seeing the lieutenant fought bravely as he clutched his rifle close, firing shot after shot at the advancing German soldiers merely a few feet away.

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Myrna”, he declared, his voice firm with resolve.

“I’ll be right behind you”, you insisted and started to push him away to safety, but he held his ground unwavering. 

“No, I’m not leaving you!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours with pure determination as his tone left for no argument. “We’re in this together”

You sighed in defeat, allowing him to stay by your side knowing there was no time to debate. The situation grew more perilous by the minute as it became clearer that the enemy was closing in on the barracks. But you and Darius continued to stand your ground, determined to aid your fellow comrades and guide them to safety.

Together, you fought your way through the turmoil as the chaos and destruction intensified, dodging bullets and explosions while glancing left and right to ensure each other’s safety. The moment of truth came when the last of the military trucks departed, and the two of you finally decided to make your escape. 

The barracks were in shambles, and you could hear the sounds of enemy soldiers drawing nearer. The two of you made a run for it, racing toward the outskirts where an abandoned motorbike was stationed.

But fate had other plans. Just as you were about to reach the vehicle, a group of German soldiers appeared on the scene, hot on your heels. They spotted your position, and before the two of you could react, shots rang out followed by a sharp crack that rang out. Darius staggered as he cried out in pain, clutching his shoulder where a bullet had struck. You watched in horror as he fell to the ground, the world seeming to slow down around you.

Panic coursed through you as you knelt beside him, trying to assess the situation. The German soldiers closed in, their weapons trained on you both. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you let your own instinct take over. There’s no way in hell that you will let him die on your watch.

Without hesitation, you drew upon the ancient powers bestowed on you by your patron goddess Mayari, summoning her very essence that lay dormant within you all these long years until this precise moment. In a blinding flash, your form shifted as the ceremonial armor slowly materialized in a shimmer of moonlight, replacing the former medical uniform enveloping your body.

You, Myrna Katigbak, a simple medic, began to change before Darius’s wide eyes. The initial shock and disbelief he felt witnessing your transformation slowly turned into awe, marking the beginning of your intertwined fates being woven together.

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

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[tom-whore-dleston]

I wish that it could be like that

Why can't we be like that?

Cause I'm yours

A Royal Longing - Layla El Faouly x f. reader (Snow White AU) Coming Soon!

Created for @the-slumberparty's test your palette challenge. I tried to stick to the color palette but I like how it came out anyway. Hope y'all are excited for the fic!

[lunaselena]

amor, amor, amor.

956 words, explicit content.

warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni!

summary: jake knows what he wants; he wants her.

notes: for @little-worm-grant, our love for jake hits hard. 🫂🤍 what a man.

—

The day had been fraught with tension, Layla and Jake exchanging biting words like arrows in a strained archery match. As Layla retreated to the bedroom, the echoes of their bickering lingered in the air. She had tried to understand, to bridge the gap, but their interactions always ended in a clash of discomfort.

Little did she know, Jake grappled with his own internal struggle. The couch became his refuge when he took control, a physical barrier between him and Layla. Yet, beneath the surface, a secret soft spot for her gnawed at him, complicating the already tense atmosphere.

His persistent way of annoying her only resulted in her getting turned on. A part of her hated that, but she couldn’t help it when he looked exactly like the man she had fallen in love with. He wasn’t anything like Marc or Steven though. She didn’t know much about him yet— only that he liked his coffee black, sang 90s hits underneath the shower (Yes, she had evidence of him singing ‘Hit me baby, one more time.) and he had a thing for teasing her whenever he was fronting. It drove her insane, to the fact that even though she wanted nothing to do with him, she still walked around with a wet spot in her panties whenever he was near.

Like tonight. Her panties were translucent by now. Damn him. She had to take the edge off somehow. Layla locked the door, shut off the lights, and grabbed her vibrator from underneath her book in the nightstand. It had been a week since she got off, and although the vibrator didn’t come close to the real thing, it got the job done. She lit some candles and turned on some soft music to drown out any noise before settling in bed. Tugging Marc’s shirt over her head and tossing her panties to the floor, Layla’s thoughts drifted to something dangerous. Jake Lockley. The man hadn’t left her head since the moment he stole her piece of bacon that morning. Might as well take advantage and use him to get off.

She shut her eyes and imagined Jake looming above her, his fingers dragging across her chest rather than her own. He was the one teasing her body with his hands until she was begging for release. He was the one angling the vibrator so the G-spot stimulator hit at the right angle which made her see stars. He was the one… Wait— knocking on the door?

Her eyes flew open and she sat up in an instant, gasping as the vibration intensified, making her eyes roll back. “Layla.” Jake knocked harder. “Open the fucking door.” Layla groaned into a pillow as she pulled the vibrator free from her slick entrance and shut the button off. “Yes— one moment.” She replied, voice coming out raspier and huskier than she would have liked. The knocking stopped. Layla slid out of bed, legs feeling wobbly as she searched for Marc’s shirt. Running her fingers through her messy curls, she cracked the door open. “What do you want?” His dark brown eyes scanned her face. “My pillow.”

“What? You already have one.” He looked at her with a strange expression. “And?” Layla pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don’t need another one, Lockley.” She pushed the door closed, but he pressed his palm against it to block it from shutting. “I do, Layla. Wait…” He raised a brow, sniffing the air. “Cinnamon?”

“It’s a candle. So what?” “You lit a candle?” He repeated, clearly amused, before his eyes widened with recognition. Didn’t Steven always lit up a candle for Layla to get into the mood? “Aha. The candles, the music, the…” his eyes glanced down at the thong on the floor. Layla’s cheeks flushed. She tried to close the door again, but his strength prevented her from doing so. “How do I get an invite, princesa?” His eyes darkened, the heat of his gaze making her almost turn into a puddle. Almost. “You’re not invited. Bye Jake.” She pushed against the door, but his hold remained strong. “Let me make you see stars, hermosa. Fuck. Please,” he rasped. A single plea had her walls crumbling like a poorly made cake. She shook her head. “Not going to happen.” But what was the worst that could happen? She was desperate for relief. She was desperate for him.

The truth hit Layla like a punch to the face, stealing her breath. A lump formed in her throat. He pushed slightly back against the door, wedging his foot between it. “I’ll beg.”

Layla released her grip and took a step back. “Fine. Beg for me.” Jake didn’t blink as she walked further into the bedroom. She was going to regret this in the morning. “Are you going to beg, or are you going to stand there all night? Watch me make myself come harder than you ever could?” His jaw clenched. “Are you daring me, Layla?” He growled softly. A mischief glint flashed in Layla’s eyes. “It’s a promise, papi.”

Something snapped in Jake. His nostrils flared, tongue dragging along his bottom lip as he turned to close the door behind him. “On your knees.” Layla breathed, watching him closely. He took a step closer towards her and sank to his knees. He swallowed. “Stay there and look pretty for me.” The brunette mused. Jake smirked. “Now what?” Layla slid back into bed, searching for her vibrator before turning it back on. The soft hum echoed through the room. “What are you doing?” Jake’s brows furrowed. “I said you could beg for me. Not that you could make me come.” A soft hitch of breath escaped his mouth. His stare sent a shiver down her spine.

“Don’t touch me. Got it?” Her eyes glanced down at the straining erection in his sweatpants. He gave her a short nod, a hint of fascination visible in his expression. “I’m in control.” Layla whispered, dipping the toy between her thighs. “You want to hear me beg, Lay?” Jake placed his hands on the floor, getting on all fours. “You want me to beg for that pretty little pussy?” He tilted his head to the side. “I want to taste you so fucking bad. Want to see if it’s true what the others say. You drive them wild. Feral.” He got up from his position, only to join her on the bed. Layla’s stomach fluttered.

“Fuck off.” Layla hissed— though she kept the toy right where it was, nestled deep inside of her. “Spread those legs wider. Or I’ll do it myself. Got it?” Jake threw her words right back at her. “Got it…” Layla spread her thighs, making Jake groan, his cheeky grin immediately fading.

She slowly pulled the toy from her wet cunt. The silicone glistened with her slick. Jake leaned in closer to look at it. Her body dipped closer from his added weight, his arm brushing against hers. “Layla,” his voice sounded strained. Layla pressed the warm tip of the vibrator against her sensitive clit, back arching up from the bed. Jake continued to watch. A soft moan escaped from Layla’s lips. Jake took hold of the vibrator, making the girl huff. “Let me taste you.” Jake’s voice cracked.

Layla glanced at him and dipped her finger inside, pumping slowly. The vibrator slipped from his hand, jaw going slack as he stared down at his roommate fucking herself with her fingers. “Show me how wet you are,” Layla added a second finger, soaking it as she continued to push in and out. Her lower body pulsed. Eyes focused on him. She lifted her fingers, showing him how wet she was. “Let me taste you, Lay. Please.” He begged.

She followed his command, reaching her hand out to have him wipe away her slick with a few strokes of his tongue. He hummed. Layla watched him in awe, cunt fluttering as Jake closed his eyes to savor the taste of her. “Please, touch me.” The words came out as a soft whisper, but it was enough for Lockley.

He spread her legs wider, moving between them. He took his time, kissing each of her thighs until she was squirming underneath him. His lips brushed against her soft skin, goose bumps spreading over Layla’s body, a nip of his teeth making her whine for more. Her fingers dug into his hair, tugging him towards her dripping entrance. “Fuck me or fuck off, Jake.” Jake chuckled softly. “Bossy, Lay.” His tongue darted across her swollen clit and he dragged the tip toward her aching opening. “So needy. So fucking sexy. I wonder how it feels to have your tight pussy wrapped around my cock.” His tongue sunk inside of her. Layla moaned, back curving. His fingers dug into the skin of her ass cheeks, his dark eyes focused only on her. The torture of his mouth drove her closer to the edge.

Her toes curled, thighs pressed against the side of his head as her eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck. J-Jake…” wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her body. Jake didn’t stop licking, sucking and stroking until her body gave out, her release coating the entire lower half of his face. Even the damn mustache glistened. Layla blinked up at the ceiling, trying to calm her breathing. Jake kissed her puffy clit one last time before crawling up. He cradled her face and pressed a kiss to her lips. The taste of his smoky breath and her arousal made her hum against his lips.

Jake pulled away. Layla reached out, grabbing onto his hand. Was this it? What even happened between them? She wasn’t ready to face the consequences of this yet. “Thanks Lay.” He pecked her lips one more time before he got up. “Where are you going?” Layla propped herself up on her elbows. “I’d rather leave before you come back to your senses, princesa. Don’t want you to kick me out of my own place.” Layla bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have done that if you asked to stay,” she blurted out, eyes widening a little. Jake flashed her a soft, reserved smile. “Good to know.” He replied, grabbing a pillow from beside her.

Turning towards the door, he gave her one last look over his shoulder. “You know where to find me, amor.”

Layla sighed and let herself fall back on the bed as Jake left the bedroom with the pillow underneath his arm. She considered crawling beside him on the couch, but kept herself from doing so. She was too flustered with the thought about the consequences of something like that.

What was the worst thing that could happen?

Fall in love with Jake Lockley.

tagged: @little-worm-grant @bambeenie

[starsarekind]

Marc Spector was not particularly skilled in the kitchen.

In the months he'd been without Layla, he'd grown accustomed to greasy gas station snacks — devoid of most proteins but enough to satisfy an empty stomach on a job for a moon god.

When Marc wasn't on a mission, Steven took care of himself. Jake, who they'd learned about more recently and whom he was still getting used to, deemed himself the chef of the system, which was more or less accurate and incredibly infuriating.

Marc had a recipe pulled up for fried rice, and only about half of the ingredients he needed. If Layla wasn't at the kitchen table, he'd give up and order something in. Maybe he wouldn't eat at all. But no, Marc was trying to ease back into mundane married life, and he had a lot of slack to pull and a lot of shit to make up for. He could make Layla some damned fried rice for dinner.

Layla played quiet music from her laptop. Realistically, she was not looking at the screen. Her eyes were focused on Marc — the familiar tensing of his jaw, the way he held his shoulders, the crease between his brow as he concentrated on the stove. She soaked in all of the things that made him her husband. On one hand, it relaxed her to see. On the other, more selfish hand, Layla wanted to be as equipped as possible in recognizing when a switch happened.

Even now, after slow weeks of getting accustomed to their new life after defeating Ammit, the flat was demonstrably Steven's. The floors were still littered with stacks of books that had no places on shelves. Books on Egypt and egyptian mythology and hieroglyphs were left open to certain pages on every desk and table, no matter how often Steven tidied up. Mug stains from old tea dotted every wooden surface in an almost admirable way.

There were small signs that Marc lived here, too. The bed was made in a rigid and practical way, with no margin for error. A wedding photo of him and Layla now hung by the bed. But otherwise? This space had not been meant for Marc.

Zoning back in, Layla saw Marc murmuring under his breath, getting frustrated. Layla could practically see the steam coming from his ears. She moved to his side in a second, assessing the situation and scanning the recipe.

"Oh, baby, you'd better--"

"I don't need all these comments from everyone." Marc replied, before Layla could even finish her sentence.

It startled her for a moment. Not the tone, or the defensiveness, but the language — the word: everyone. The air felt thick when she realized she was not the only other person in the room.

"Is it Jake?" She asked, softly but without room for avoidance.

Marc's jaw tensed again. He didn't meet Layla's eyes, but he nodded. "He won't cook, but he'll make fun of me for doing it wrong."

His head tilted to the side, and Layla recognized a conversation she was not privy to. As Marc was distracted, Layla was careful to nudge him away from the stove. She wasn't the greatest cook either, but she was better than Marc, especially when he was starting to dissociate.

Layla was still working on getting used to the blank look in Marc's eyes as he looked past her, never sure if he was pulling back into his own head, or if he'd be right back. She busied herself with the recipe.

The flat fell into comfortable silence, save for the faint music from the laptop on the table, and the sizzle of the pan, as Layla finished cooking dinner.

"Cheers, love," Steven smiled over to her, blinking a bit to gain his bearings. "Oh! You made dinner, yeah? Lovely. I'll set the table."

She noted, quietly, the way Steven stood with his shoulders slightly hunched, like standing up straight would make him too much of a focal point. His eyes were wider, too, and somehow the creases that always made Marc look so tired seemed to subside.

Layla's heart ached. She didn't mind the intrusion, knowing that if Marc's gone away, it was for good reason. And, in fact, she was quite fond of Steven, and even warming up to Jake.

This did not change the fact that sometimes she wanted to eat dinner with her husband, and that sometimes it was difficult to see his face and know it did not belong to him.

Despite this, she smiled.

"Thanks, Steven."