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writeforfandoms · 9 months

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Howlin’ For You - epilogue

Find the CoD masterlist

Well, I know people wanted more of these two. And after a conversation with a shameless enabler, this is what I came up with! I hope you all enjoy.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of marriage/mating, talk of children, shifter social norms, shifter behavior

Word count: 2k

You shifted your weight in the seat yet again. “You’re sure they won’t mind?” you asked quietly, unable to keep the anxiety at bay.

“Love, they’re right thrilled to meet ye,” Soap murmured, squeezing the hand held captive between both of his. He was a long line of warmth against your side in the chilly train, pressed up against you from knee to shoulder.

You blew out a breath, noisy but short, venting a bit of your nerves. “Right. Okay.”

He nuzzled your cheek softly, squeezing your hand again. “Ye’ll have fun,” he murmured, a soft promise in his tone. “And if ye donnae, we’ll go. Aye?”

“Right.” You did relax a little at the reminder.

“Never done a meet the family?” The words were gently teasing, even as he tried to tug you closer. You swatted his thigh, because you’d already refused to sit in his lap. Twice. This trip.

“Never.” You bit your lip, wrinkling your nose. “Especially not with, y’know, the rest of the stuff.”

“Stuff.” Soap huffed a little laugh. “Funny way of puttin’ it, love.”

“Oh hush.” You warmed, tucking your head down against his shoulder.

“They’re all excited,” he murmured. “Might get a few rude sniffs, though.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed quietly, relaxing into him. Which, of course, was his goal all along.

“Promise, love,” he murmured. “Won’t be a problem.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. You’d just have to trust him for now.

You two got off the train, Soap herding you through the station easily and out to the pickup area. A woman waved at the two of you, dark hair shining in the sunlight, an easy smile on her face.

“‘Bout time,” she called as Soap herded you to her car, taking your bag to put in the back. “How was the trip?”

“Uneventful,” Soap said with a shrug.

"You must be his mate." She smiled at you. "I'm Layla."

You gave her your name, a little shy.

"Ah ken, Johnny willnae shuddup 'bout ye." She flashed a bright grin at you.

You warmed and quickly got into the car. Soap settled next to you, ignoring Layla's snickering.

"She's one o' my big sisters," Soap told you. "Got two more."

"Big family," you murmured.

"Aye." He smiled at you. "Jeannie already has two bairns o' her own."

You nodded, leaning a little into his side, unable to entirely quell your anxiety. Soap hummed softly, twining his fingers with yours.

"Mum has everyone for dinner tonight," Layla said as she drove.

"How many people is everyone?" You were almost afraid to ask.

"No more'n twelve. Ach, no, fourteen, forgot the two littles."

"Oh." You blinked. That… was a lot of people.

"Ye'll be fine," Soap whispered to you. "Promised, aye?"

"Right." You breathed in deep, trying to relax.

Layla chattered the rest of the drive, and you understood most of it. But she used some words you didn't know. Not that you said anything - you got the gist of it. Mostly, she and Soap caught up.

Which worked great for you.

Layla parked the cat outside a big house, and you swallowed.

"C'mon, love." Soap patted your hand before he got out.

One last deep breath and you got out too. The house was lovely, the grounds green and lush.

And then there were four pups crowding around you, yipping and sniffing and (in one case) nipping. You squeaked, a little overwhelmed.

"Behave!" Layla called, heading up to the house. The one that nipped you looked apologetic.

"Uh, that's okay?" You patted the top of that one's head.

All four pups crowded you again, little tails going a mile a minute. They all had that same wolf-husky look that you were used to from Soap, though they varied in color. Two were red and white, much like Soap, while one was mostly gray and the last was black and white.

And all of them still had floofy puppy fur.

"I… oh my god you're all cute," you muttered, looking down at the pups. "Is it okay if I pet you?"

One of the pups immediately flopped over on his back for belly rubs. Which you obliged. Except you only had two hands and there were four pups. It took all of a minute for them to gang up on you and knock you flat on your back on the grass.

A sharp whistle pierced the air, and the pups all scrambled off you. You sat up, pretty sure you looked disheveled now.

"Ah, Mum wants t' see ye." Soap appeared to offer you a hand up, hauling you to your feet easily. His strength didn't surprise you anymore.

He walked you up to the house and around back to a set of chairs and a table. His mum was very clearly his mum, her hair salted but still thick and dark, the same glint of humor in her eyes that you saw in Soap's.

"Be welcome in our home," she said, soft and melodious.

"Thank you." You sat when she waved to the chair across from her.

"So, ye caught Johnny's eye." She gave you a quick once-over.

"Seems that way." You smiled a little, nervous.

"Good. He's a handful, but he's a good man." Her smile was soft and proud.

"He is," you agreed. "Even though he did spring the whole shifter thing on me."

His mum laughed. "Aye, he told us."

"I suppose there was no good way to do it," you admitted. "And at least Captain Price was pretty nice about the whole thing."

"Was he? Good. Ah'd hate t' haveta have 'nother talk with him."

"Another?" Your eyebrows shot up.

"Oh aye." Her smile twinkled with mischievous glee.

"Tell me more?" You leaned forward, intrigued.

"Johnny, be a dear an' go help yer da."

Soap huffed but pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. And left you alone with his mum.

Who proceeded to tell you all about the time she yelled at Captain John Price and then informed him that the 141 had all been unofficially adopted. You kind of wished you'd been able to see that.

At some point you were ushered inside and seated between Soap's mum and Soap. All three of his sisters were there, along with the five children between them - the four pups you'd sort of met, and one baby. His da was a quiet man that was quick to smile.

It was the best kind of overwhelming, honestly.

Until his sister Jeannie asked, "So when are ye having yer first?"

You coughed as your drink attempted to go down the wrong way. Soap thumped your back, shooting his sister a look.

"We, um, haven't talked about it," you said, gaze flitting between the lot of them.

"Tha's a surprise." Maggie, the third sister, had both eyebrows raised as she looked between you two.

"Maggie," Soap warned, eyes narrowed.

"Just askin'," Maggie said, still looking between you and Soap.

"No need ta growl," Jeannie added.

You blinked and Soap actually did growl. And that was all it took for chaos to descend, the entire table weighing in with their opinion. It quickly became completely unintelligible, accents getting thicker and more completely unrecognizable words getting thrown in.

You quickly gave up on trying to translate anything and just sat there, shoulders a little hunched, watching it all with wide eyes.

His da caught your eye and jerked his head, standing quietly. You followed suit. Nobody even batted an eye, all caught in the argument.

Outside was much quieter, and his da sat in one of the chairs and patted another for you.

"Are ye happy? With my boy?"

"I am." You smiled, a little abashed. "I never expected any of this, and it was definitely a shock at first. But I'm happy."

"That's all that matters." He smiled at you, warm and gentle. "Dinnae fuss 'bout the rest."

"Okay." You relaxed.

There was a shout from inside and then a chorus of puppy barks. His da sighed.

"Is it always like this?" You couldn't help but ask, grinning.

"Och aye. Mated to a hellion, I am." But he looked pleased with himself.

You couldn't help but laugh, just a little. It was actually pretty peaceful out here with just the two of you.

Except then he stood, motioning you to wait. You blinked and watched him walk off to the side. But when he started to strip, you immediately looked away. You knew it wasn't a big deal, not to them, but you couldn't get over the ingrained feeling that you needed to look away.

A big wolf padded over to you, darker brown with a tan underside. He was even bigger than Soap. He sat in front of you and rested his chin on your knee.

"More comfortable that way?" You asked, curious. He huffed softly. "Can I…?" You held out one hand, waiting for him to tip his head in permission. Then you stroked the top of his head softly. "You really don't mind I'm not like you?"

He looked up at you and very deliberately shook his head. You smiled.

"Thank you." You relaxed into your chair, absently stroking the top of his head, listening to the furor inside slowly calm.

"Love?" Soap poked his head out the door and huffed. "There ye are."

"Mmhm." You smiled at him. "Nice and quiet out here. A bit chilly."

That was all it took to have Soap draping himself over the back of your chair to be your personal space heater. His da huffed with doggie laughter.

"Alright, love?" Soap nuzzled the crook of your neck.

"Mmhm." You tipped your head a bit. "Long as nobody else asks about stuff we haven't discussed yet."

The sudden, absolute silence from behind you was damning. You sighed.

"Okay. What else came up?"

"Dinnae matter." Soap tightened his grip on you.

"Hey." You poked his arm. "C'mon. Tell me so I'm prepared."

Soap sighed. "They're wonderin' when we're gettin' mated. Properly."

"Hm." You paused for a moment until his da budged your hand, then continued stroking his fur. "Can we put them off until we've talked about it?"

His da chuffed at you, soft but encouraging. Behind you, Soap chuckled.

"That's a yes," he translated. "He likes ye."

"What can I say? I'm charming." You tipped your head to grin at him.

"Ye charmed me," he agreed.

"I picked you up on the side of the road."

"Charmed me with food."

You laughed, leaning back into him. "Best decision I ever made."

"Ye are right smart." He kissed your cheek. "Ye ready to go to bed?"

You shrugged a little, careful not to disturb him. "In a few minutes. This is pretty nice."

Soap hummed softly, nuzzling the crook of your neck again.

"Full moon is in two nights?"

"Aye. We'll all go." He paused. "Unless ye want–"

"Absolutely not. You're going hunting with your family, sweetheart. I'll read."

His da chuffed again, tail wagging slowly. Soap made a startled noise, and his da chuffed again. You knew you were missing that conversation, but you didn't feel left out. It was hard to feel anything bad when you were so securely between the two, both of them radiating warmth and comfort.

"Da says he'll keep ye company, if ye like."

"That's your choice," you told the wolf, stroking along one velvety ear. "I certainly won't say no, but I don't want to deprive you of the hunt."

His da huffed again and tipped his head into your hand. You didn't need a translation for that. You just smiled.

Maybe his family wasn't so terrifying after all.

#howlin' for you #shifter au #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #f!reader

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tsukina-1-9-9-8 · 2 months

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Headcanons of Miguel at work:

• When creating the Spider Society, he made sure that they gave empanadas in the dining room at least twice a week for all the Spider-people.

• Peter B. Parker sometimes stays nearby because he wants to accompany him, but beyond that, he sometimes leaves Mayday to Miguel. Not exactly because Miguel offers, but because he knows that although Miguel doesn't show it to anyone, he plays with Mayday when no one is around and gives her a soft smile.

• When he is too focused he puts his hand on his chin and starts babbling words in Spanish.

"Carajo."

• His work area is not always clear, but when it is he tells LAYLA to play 80s/90s Latin music, in low volume tho. And sometimes his daughter Gabriella's favorite song, the one they used to dance together.

• His favorite time to work is during the night, obviously. So calm and quiet for him. He finds it calming to see the distant night lights of his futuristic city while drinking coffee when he finishes saving a file, for example. But he is still bothered by people making fun of him being a vampire.

• More than once he has scared spider-people at work (especially new members) just with the shadow of his fanged mouth. Damn, maybe he was just yawning his mouth too much or something. Listening to the little muffled screams he simply rolled his eyes.

• Late at bedtime he wears a black robe with gray slippers.

(Your welcome)

• He can actually control the speed at which his platform lowers, it's futuristic technology (? But of course he chooses to lower it slowly while giving his incredible and serious monologues about the missions.

• Gives a coupon for two more empanadas to the best spider-man/woman who have successfully completed several missions in the month.

(okay the last one is just hilarious thanks bye)

♥

Dividers by @across-the-art-verse

#just me and my imagination #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel #miguel atsv #across the spider verse fanart #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #beyond the spiderverse #btsv #miggy #miguel spiderverse #spiderverse #headcanons #miguel headcanons #miguel o'hara headcanons #atsv #marvel #sony animation

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ozarkthedog · 6 months

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summary: while having a private moment with your boss, the ceo unexpectedly drops by… or so you think.

pairings: Boss!Layla El-Faouly x afab intern!reader x CEO!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. Alt Universe. slight dubcon but reader is willing. power imbalance. free use. f/f -> f/m. established relationship (layla x reader). oral sex (fem receiving). fingering. sex in a private office. dirty talk. praise kink. cum feeding. cream pie.

word count: 3.8k 😅

author’s note: if a fic could come to life, i'd choose this one. thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta'ing and the mental support. i haven't written a fic this long in a while. hope you enjoy. 💙

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

“I have the paperwork all ready for you to sign, Ms. El-Faouly.”

Your boss, Layla, peers up at you with her deep brown eyes from behind her monitor. “Hey, one second. I’ve got to finish this email real quick.” She sends you a soft smile in return before nodding to the right towards a big stack of papers sitting messily on her desk.

Layla had one of the corner offices and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite spot in the entire building. It floods with sunlight all day long and it’s got a great view of the city. Layla was also another reason why it was your favorite.

“How was your day?” She asks, typing as you place the paperwork on top of the stack.

She’s wearing that dark gray, silk blouse and skirt combo you helped her pick out last week during a night out on the town. You told her it made her look powerful and inviting as you got down on your knees for her later that same evening.

“It’s going alright.” You sigh, drawing imaginary patterns on the corner of her desk.

Layla clicks send on the email and turns her attention to you. She leans her elbows on the edge of her desk with a pensive brow. You can see her brain working on ways to fix your problems before you even tell her. “What’s wrong?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Nothing is wrong, I swear.” You raise your hands, shaking your head while the gorgeous woman looks you over quizzically.

Stretching your arms over her desk, you grasp her hands, giving them a squeeze. “Honestly, I’m fine. I just..”

“What is it?” she asks, tucking a few strands of her wild curls behind her ear. She leads you around her desk by your clenched hands and pins your chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Tell me.”

Your eyes dance around the room, landing everywhere but on her. She gives your chin a slight shake and forces your eyes back to hers.

You take a deep breath. “Am I doing a good job?”

Layla’s heart sinks. “Of course you are. Why on earth-”

“It’s just, it’s so much work.” You cut her off, spilling your worries now that the dam has been broken. “I hate not being able to get everything to you on time. Not to mention there’s so much paperwork. No one ever says thank you but they’ll definitely yell when you’ve done something wrong. I don’t know if I’m doing things right-”

“C’mere, baby.” She ceases your ramble and pulls you down into her lap and into a searing kiss that makes your head swirl.

Tender, yet fierce lips encompass your own, stealing your gasps with fond affection as she winds her arms around your waist and maneuvers you into the position she wants.

You settle into the pose, kneeling over her lap with your legs on the outsides of her thighs, the cushion of her expensive chair a grateful soft bedding as she forms you to her body.

“Should we really be doing this?” You ask between broken, breathless kisses. It was after 5pm, so it was less likely anyone would walk in on you and her. Still, hesitation nestled in your belly.

“Everyone is gone for the night.” She confirms before lewdly dragging her tongue along the seam of your lips. “There’s no need to worry about them.”

Layla presses her forehead against yours sensing your apprehension. She searches your timid eyes for a moment trying to find the right words to express her gratitude.

“You’re doing a wonderful job. I’ve gotten no complaints from anyone. So if they have an issue, they haven’t told anyone,” she says, holding your gaze. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you more about how lucky I am to have you. My life has been so much better since you started working here.”

She holds your face, rubbing her thumb along the apple of your cheek. “In more ways than one.” She winks, playfully.

“Layla!” You gasp, lightly swatting her on the chest.

She sends you a look you know all too well. The raised eyebrow and slightly parted lips mean trouble is coming. In a good way.

“Oh, baby, you don’t know what you started.” Her hands tickle your ribs in a flash making your eyes bug as you try to keep your giggles at bay. You squirm incessantly in her lap, wishing you could break free but she had a strong hold around your waist.

Your skirt slid up your thighs in the process of all your wriggling, no longer hiding your want for her as your panties are noticeably soaked through.

“Oh, baby, you really are desperate for me.” She coos, eyes growing soft as she feigns a pout. “Poor baby.”

She skillfully undoes the pearly buttons on your white, flower-patterned blouse, sliding the thin material off your shoulders and onto the floor. Soft, warm hands palm your breasts, feeling your heartbeat beneath your skin before she makes you gasp by wickedly pinching your sensitive nipples.

She teases her fingers down further then and along the soaked cloth of your panties, drawing light circles over your throbbing, hidden clit. You whimper into her chocolate curls, a soft pathetic mewl, begging her for more as you perch wearily in her lap.

“What do you say?” she asks with a sharp tongue and pointed stare.

She weaves her arm around your hips, smoothing a palm over the curve of your ass and dragging your panties down in the process before seeking out your aching warmth once more. A well-manicured finger teases down the slick, puffy seam of you from behind, teasing and torturing you until she’s satisfied. She loves breaking you into little pieces and putting you back together.

“Please-” You gasp as your hips buck on their own accord, chasing her fingers for relief. “Please, Layla.”

The older woman’s painted lips tug into a sly smile, “That’s my good girl.”

Your world is consumed. Her brunette curls smell of lavender and spice. They tickle your cheek and senses as she plays your body like a well tuned piano. Her hold on you is immense. There’s never any doubt that she doesn’t adore you.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Layla coos, grasping the back of your neck with her free hand as her other cups your searing mound. You jolt from the touch but do as she says, meeting her soft yet stoic expression with watery eyes.

She pins you with a firm stare as she slowly presses two fingers into your soaked core. You know better than to turn your gaze from her but your eyes flutter as she finally grants you the sweet relief you’ve been begging for.

“That’s my good girl,” Layla praises as she fills you to the hilt, knuckles grazing your puckered hole and claiming every inch of your cunt.

Deft fingers glide with prowess as a steady, toe curling rhythm is set. Your body trembles as a foggy bliss rolls into your mind. Your knees shake, desperately meeting her thrusts, wanting nothing more than to come around her fingers.

“You take what I give you, sweet girl.” Layla coos, nudging her nose against your cheek. She doesn’t like it when you get greedy. “You know that.”

One of your hands clutches the back of her chair while the other has her blouse in a death grip. A scolding is in your future but you could care less as you rock back onto her fingers chasing the pleasure she’s finally allowing.

Something heavy in your gut twists. The knot Layla began tying when she first got you onto her lap starts tightening. Your muscles ache, ready to collapse under the pressure when she gives you the word.

Just then, a quick succession of knocks rap on her door.

Your head whips up as Layla’s fingers go still. Ice courses through your veins freezing the searing wildfire that burns in your abdomen. You knew it was stupid to try anything at work. Besides the occasionally secretive kiss, you both kept things to a dull roar. No one knew about your relationship and you wanted it to stay that way.

“Shh. Be still.” Layla whispers, unfazed, as she cups her free hand along your jaw. “You trust me. Right?”

You nod in her tender hold, hips pressing just a bit harder into her palm. “Good girl.”

“Who is it?” Layla calls out. Your body jolts as her fingers begin moving again and you send her a bewildered look.

“Marc,” a gruff voice sounds from the other side of the door.

Shit — it was the CEO.

Marc Spector built this company from the ground up. He and Layla had been working together since almost the beginning. They explicitly trusted and respected one another even when they didn’t meet eye to eye.

You’d met Marc only once. It was a brief interaction as one of your coworkers showed you around on your first day. He was personable and made you feel welcome even though you were a lowly intern.

You thought he was handsome and could kill someone with his smile. His jet black quiff would curl on humid days when he forgot to gel it. It made you admire him even more for some reason.

“Come in.” She answers while holding your worried gaze with her own unwavering one.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “Layla, what’re doin-” you hiss, squirming to get free from her arms again.

“Remember your safe word.” she says, quickly just before Marc walks in.

“Layla, I was wonderin-” Marc starts as he steps into the office and instantly cuts himself off at the lewd display.

You can’t breathe. Shame and embarrassment flood your system. If the floor could open up, you’d gladly jump in.

Marc stands in awe. You couldn’t turn to face him but you spy his reflection in the darkened window and that’s more than enough. You don't know how you could ever look him in the eye after this.

“What’s this now?” He ponders, intrigue shaping his words as he steps closer, tapping his knuckles on Layla’s oversized desk.

“I was just rewarding her for doing such a good job,” Layla responds like she doesn’t have you propped in her lap with her fingers buried deep inside your cunt.

You see Marc nod in the reflection and take another step closer. Your body burns like red hot coals as you feel his eyes on your body mainly where Layla’s fingers slowly thrust into your shiny, slick opening.

“That right?” Marc questions with a curious tone as he rubs a hand along his rough five o’clock shadow.

“She’s so attentive and such a hard worker.” Layla praises, finally looking in your direction. “I had to show how much I appreciate her.”

Marc chuckles. It’s a deep huff of laughter that rumbles from his chest and it makes your insides melt. “Is she any good at helping relieve some stress?” he asks pensively while looking at your holes like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“She most certainly is,” Layla smirks, raising a sculpted brow before sliding a finger under your chin, tipping your face in toward her. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

You’d been with Layla since the first day you started working, shared any and all free time together along with the inner workings of your bedroom. Explored each other’s bodies freely and with such passion. Falling to Layla’s feet came naturally to you and she made you feel complete; loved even.

You trusted her to push your limits whenever the time came but you didn’t think you’d ever be in this situation.

“Why don’t you show him how much you love being employed here, baby.” She dubiously insists, slowly nodding her head for you to comply.

You finally gather the courage to look over your shoulder.

Butterflies flutter wildly in your belly as you take in the devilishly handsome man. His hair is mused, like he’d been running a hand through it all day and his button up shirt is loose at the collar, exposing a column of tan skin with two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up exposing his muscular forearms. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

A nervous chortle bubbles up your throat at the nickname. Your insides turn to jelly; and your brain to mush. Your core can’t help but clench as the older man takes you in with a ravenous gaze.

“Oh, she likes that.” Layla quips upon feeling your pussy clamp down on her fingers.

“Does she now?” Marc croons, stepping up right behind you. He smooths his hands along the shape of you. His warmth feels good against your skin and you can’t help but moan when Layla curls her fingers along that spongy spot that makes you feel lightheaded.

“Damn, that’s a pretty pussy.” He drawls, crouching down behind your bent form. With your ass in the air, you already felt so exposed and now the owner of the company was getting a front row view of the most private parts of you.

Sticky, wet noises fill the room as Layla splays her fingers deep inside your velvet channel. You bite your lip to keep your moans at bay. So overstimulated and heated, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Want a taste?’ Layla asks, jogging you from your stupor.

Marc grunts in response. You look back in time to watch Layla feeding him her shiny, cream coated fingers. The debauched noise he makes while he licks and sucks her fingers clean has your heart falling into your lower half.

You meet his lust filled gaze as he stands. Layla’s fingers leave his lips with a pop, and he palms his hard length through his dark slacks. “You gonna show me how good you are at serving your superiors?”

A nervous whimper escapes from your throat at his question.

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, lapping at some of your fallen cream as he pulls his cock out and gives it a languid tug. You watch dumbstruck as he pumps his length, from the obscenely thick base that’s littered with dark wiry hairs to a bulbous, desert blush tip that weeps in his hand after every twist.

“Is that a yes, sweetheart?” he questions.

A smirk lifts the corners of his mouth at your stupefied gaze. Marc raises a hand and grasps the back of your neck, moving your head in a crude up-down motion. “This is how you say, yes.”

Another deep chuckle burrows into your brain and makes you go even more dumb.

Fire ignites in your belly and races up your body, making your face burn. Your mouth bobs open and closed like a fish, wanting to answer him but you can’t even form the simplest word.

“She tends to go a bit brain dead when she gets overwhelmed.” Layla thankfully answers for you.

She thumbs your cheek. “But that pretty pussy of hers makes up for it.”

“You don’t say…” Marc quips before tapping his tip on your soaked folds. Your slick drips down your inner thighs showing that you would indeed make up for your lack of communication.

He notches the thick head past your dripping opening before slowly sinking into your cunt. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out, pressing his full length all the way and grinding the cut of his hips against your ass.

“God damn.” Marc grits, hissing through his teeth at the way you squeeze him.

You whimper from the immense stretch. It feels like his cock is burrowing a new space inside your body. “Layla. Too much–” You gasp, having never felt so full before. “So. Big.”

She cups her hands around your face, hushing your cries. “I know, baby. I know.”

Marc’s hips never falter. He plunges into your heat with an unyielding, merciless pace, pushing slick and cream from between your folds, making your belly twist in pleasurable pain.

His strong hands knead your fleshy hips, pulling you back on every brute shove, forcing you to take every inch he gives. “Such a good girl. Doin’ just what we say.”

Your core clenches that much tighter knowing you’re making them happy. “You love it don’t you, pretty girl?” His heavy balls slap against your exposed clit making you mewl and writhe in the combined hold they had on you.

Sticky, sweet bliss drowns your senses. You’re a wanton mess. A plaything between two beautiful gods as they have their fun..

You whine when Marc slows his rhythm, canting his hips so his cock stays buried deep. “I thought you were one of the best.” Marc sighs with a shake of his head, his curls bouncing with the movement. “But it seems you’re not as attentive as I thought.”

Your brow furrows as you look at him over your shoulder.

“I think it’s time to show your Boss how much you appreciate her.”

Marc moves quickly, dragging you out of Layla’s arms and down onto your knees in front of her spread legs. Layla quirks a brow at him.

“What? I wanted to see how attentive she really was.” Marc says, talking about you like you weren’t speared open on his heavy cock.

Layla pulls her dress up over her legs and spreads her thighs. Her panties looked much like your own, wet, sticky, and just begging to be removed.

“Go on. Show her how much you love being on your knees for her.” Marc commands. With a snap of his hips, he jolts your bones and forces your head between Layla’s thighs. “Eat your boss’s cunt.”

Heat flames your face at his words when a familiar hand curves around your jaw. Layla pulls her panties to the side and leads you gently, well as gently as she can while you’re being plowed from behind, to her slick folds.

She sighs as your tongue licks a long stripe from her weeping opening to her clit. You flick the tiny nub, drawing tight circles for a brief moment before sliding down her folds. You lap hungrily at her slit, freely licking into her tight hole and sliding your tongue in and out from her heat.

“There you go.” Layla coos down at you with a smile. She scratches her nails along your scalp making you purr against her clit. She grinds her cunt against your mouth, chasing her pleasure. Nothing made you happier than making Layla feel good. Your core throbs when she gasps and fucks her mound onto your tongue.

A rough, grating moan crawls from Marc’s chest as your cunt quivers and milks his length. “Such a good girl letting us use you like this.” He grits, slamming his hips harder into your ass and knocking your face steadily into Layla’s cunt. “Like you were made for it.”

Your core spasms at his words. You did love being on your knees for them. At their beck and call, wanting to be of service however they needed.

Marc lays his body along your spine, pressing his clothed chest against your bare back, and nuzzles his curved nose along your cheek. A large hand slinks around your hip and notches nimble fingers against your clit, swirling tight circles around the throbbing nub. “Wanna know all the pretty noises you make when you come.”

“Oh, they’re just the sweetest.” Layla moans, breathlessly as your lips lock around her clit. You suckle the tiny nub until

she’s digging her fingers into your hair, writhing and gasping.

Marc groans at the sight of his business partner unfurling with pleasure. His breath is hot in your ear and he crowds you even more, leaving no chance of escape.

“Come on, girl. Be good and come for us.” Marc commands, shifting his hips until his throbbing tip grazes that hidden spot behind your clit.

With Layla humping your face and Marc sheathing his cock further inside you with every shove, you’re pushed to the edge before you can even think. Your cream coated lips fall open with a feverish wail as your body locks tight.

Your muscles shake uncontrollably as you careen off the edge. Your soaked core clenches like a fist, forcing Marc’s pace to stutter and drag him along with you. He lets loose a dark roar when his balls draw up and he fucks your trembling core to the brim with his thick seed.

His cock twitches between your folds, pumping you full with every last drop. “God damn, you weren’t kidding. She more than made up for going all dumb eariler.” He slowly eases from your core with a hiss and tucks his half hard length back into his slacks.

Your head is still reeling from the powerful orgasm and Marc’s compliment makes you just that much more lightheaded. Thank goodness you were already on the ground.

“Oh you’re making such a mess.” Layla gasps when she sees the thick river of white that runs down your thighs. Your knees ache from being on the hard carpet for so long but the pain is forgotten as the pair crowds over you.

You whine as Layla and Marc drag their fingers through the hot stickiness and press them into your mouth.

You gag heavily around the two sets of fingers, tears pricking your eyes as they cover your tongue in the combined spend. “Good girl. Clean up the mess you made.” Marc nods slowly, heavy lidded with a deep moan of satisfaction as you choke and sputter while Layla proudly smiles down at you. “Did so well for me; for us.”

She shares a curious look with Marc before turning her gaze back to you and thumbs the last bit of white into your mouth.

“Might need to borrow her again sometime soon.” Marc comments as they help you onto your feet. “You know how stressed I can get.”

Your legs are shaky, like a newborn doe, as Layla brushes down your crumpled skirt while Marc helps you back into your blouse, securely buttoning you up.

“We’ll see about that.” Layla responds as she gathers you into her arms and sits back down on her chair, tucking your sleepy head under her chin.

“I’ll see you ‘round the office, sweetheart.” He raises a hand and tenderly grazes your dewy temple with his knuckles.

As he sees himself out, he winks at Layla and she smirks before he shuts the door leaving the two of you in peaceful silence.

As you relax in Layla’s arms, burrowing yourself into her safe warmth, you notice through sleepy eyes that her monitor is still on. The email she was typing when you dropped off the paperwork lights up the screen.

𝚃𝙾: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 (𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸𝚗𝚌)

𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: 𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 - 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙻𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚊 𝙴𝚕-𝙵𝚊𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚢

𝙲𝙵𝙾 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸𝚗𝚌

*evil laughter* they were in cahoots the entire time!

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

#layla el faouly #marc spector #Layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly x reader x marc spector #marc spector x reader #oscar isaac #may calamawy

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thesoftduckling · 2 years

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I wanna see her in dresses and hair down so🥺

#Layla gray #Spy racers #Comm i ask

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Text

Chapter 1: The Awakening

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake (she's the real MVP)

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Summary:

Doctor Steven Grant accepted a job as a professor at a prestigious college in New England. While you're on your way to your first history class in your second semester of your junior year, you run into an attractive English man at the coffee shop. The two of you hit it off, and since you're both headed in the same direction upon leaving, you decide to walk together. You're both excited to have met someone you have clear chemistry with right off the bat until...you realize that you both were headed to the same building, and that he's your new history professor.

When you discover that there's even more to this man than meets the eye, things get even more complicated than you could've imagined. Loving one man who's almost twice your age in a place where your relationship is forbidden is hard enough, nevermind three.

Chapter Summary:

It's your first day of class, and you meet a nice guy at the coffee shop on your way in. Too bad when you find out he's just out of reach.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded.

Word Count: 3.8k

It was the first day of the semester and you were already looking forward to it being over. With the holidays out of the way, you should be feeling refreshed and ready for the second half of your junior year, but when the sun beat through your dorm room and directly into your eyes, in combination with your screeching alarm, you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed. Your roommate was stirring on the other side of the room in her own bed, and you were sure she felt the same.

Coming back from winter break was never easy. You had to get used to a new schedule, and leave behind the laziness of gorging on food and festivities with your family. You picked up your phone and turned off the alarm with a groan before flopping back over on the mattress. It was only 7:15am.

Layla grumbled into her pillow. “I don’t want to go.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You agreed, throwing your blanket off in a huff.

“What class do you have first?”

“History with… Dr. Grant, I think.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, he’s the new professor who came over from England I think.” She sighed and got out of bed.

Her dark curls were a mess and bouncing all around her as she walked over to the small mirror in the wardrobe and picked something out of her teeth. You remembered hearing there was a new professor for this history course after the last one got kicked out for having inappropriate relations with a student, but you had forgotten the name of the replacement until now. History wasn’t really your strong suit anyway.

“My parents told me I have to ask him for tutoring.” You said, picking some clothes out of your drawer. “I flunked last year.”

“I remember.” She said with a hair elastic in her teeth while she pulled her curls back into a messy bun.

You got yourself dressed, put a little makeup on and finished getting ready. The air outside was chilly, and you pulled your coat tightly over yourself. You stopped in at Moonbean Coffee to get your usual pick-me-up before your first class. One of the perks of an open campus was the luxury of grabbing a real coffee before spending hours in a lecture.

The line in front of you was fortunately short, only one person stood between you and the barista. You noticed the man in front of you fumbling around in the pockets of his gray jacket. He let out a sound in frustration.

“Bollocks.” He said under his breath, patting himself down. “I think I left my wallet…”

He looked panicked, and you felt bad, having been in that position before. You decided it was time to do your good samaritan act of the day and you pulled your own wallet out of your bag.

“Here.” You reached around the man and handed the woman at the register a bill.

The man turned to you and his lips curled into a big smile. His tired eyes looked you up and down. You took note of his disheveled appearance. He clearly needed his drink as badly as you did.

“Oh! You don’t have to do that, I’m just-erm…I don’t have to have it.” He said, clearly anxious from your kind gesture. You took note of his thick English accent.

You shrugged and smiled at him comfortingly, “I’d die without my morning coffee. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good morning…” the barista said your name.

“Morning, T.” You said as she got started on your usual drink.

The man still stood there to the side. “That really was very kind of you. Very sweet.” He sipped the cup. “Oh bugger.” He cursed. “That’s hot.” A small chuckle escaped him.

You giggled. “Don’t mention it. I’ve been there, done that.”

His gaze lingered on you, lips still curled in a cheeky grin. He gasped when his wrist buzzed. He looked at it quickly.

“Oh, I really have to get goin’. You come here often, yeah?” He asked, looking at you eagerly.

“Y-yeah, I do.” T handed you your coffee as you handed her another bill and told her to keep the change.

Following him to the door, he opened it for you, letting you out first before exiting as well.

“Good, maybe I’ll catch you another time then, I’ll getcha back.” He nodded. “Alright then. Bye!”

“Yeah, sounds good!” You smiled foolishly at him, “bye.” You waved before realizing he was walking the same direction you were going.

He let out a laugh as you kept pace with him. “Well of course we’re walkin’ the same way. That’s not awkward at all.”

You chuckled, “Well, you can make it up to me now then, walking alone can be boring.”

When you saw the way he looked at you, your stomach fluttered. You’d seen that look before. He was interested in you. The man was clearly older than you, but you didn’t care. He was good looking, and judging by his messy curls, gentle gaze and overall demeanor, he was just your type.

“Alright sure, yeah, I can do that.” He said eagerly.

You introduced yourself. “…what’s your name?”

“Oh, name’s Steven, with a V.”

The two of you started walking in the direction of the building your class would be held in.

“So, Steven, clearly you’re not from around here, what brings you to a small college city like this?” You sipped your warm drink while the two of you walked through the chilly September air, not wanting to rush.

“Well, a job, actually.” He sipped from his cup, too, this time not flinching at the temperature.

“Oh, what do you do for work?” You asked, realizing you were approaching the brick building where your class was held all too quickly. You wished it was just a little further so you could get just another moment with Steven.

He stopped in front of the building, as if he knew you were stopping there before you told him your destination.

“I’m a history professor. This is my stop actually! Sorry, not a long walking partner.” His friendly and naive smile was about to fade when he realized the awful irony of the situation you were both in.

It hit you like a truck, “a-are you…Dr. Grant?” You asked, brows stitched together as your heart dropped into your stomach.

It made sense now: the English accent, out of place in a New England college city, the messy hair, the messenger bag and binder of notes that you just then took notice of. It should’ve been obvious from the moment you met him, everything about his appearance screamed ‘college professor’.

For some reason, this felt awkward. It was obvious just in the short time you’d known this man that you both were somewhat attracted to one another. Not that it was serious, of course, but there was an undeniable flirtatious air surrounding the whole encounter. The way he looked at you, and the way you looked at him, sharing timid smiles between promises of coffee, it was plain as day.

Now, he was shifting awkwardly in front of you as you were tapping the paper cup in your hand deep in thought. There was nothing wrong with buying your new professor a cup of coffee when he forgot his wallet, and there was nothing wrong with your new professor walking his student to class. You were both walking the same way anyway.

“Erm…yeah, yup.” You could see him trying to shake off the fog, the fantasy you both had entertained for the two minute walk.

“Well, that’s so ironic.” You tried to push past it, hoping it would help diffuse the new tension. “I’m in your class.”

He nodded despondently, his dark circled eyes looking to the ground to avoid your gaze. He hastily opened the door for you, and you thanked him as you walked in. You were stiff as a board as you made your way inside the classroom. Even though there was really nothing wrong with the interaction you’d had, something felt maddeningly nerve wracking about the whole situation.

You took a seat somewhere in the middle next to someone you remembered seeing around in other classes last semester, but never remembered her name. You hoped Dr. Grant would take you sitting in the middle table as a way of saying, “that whole interaction was totally normal, not awkward at all, see? I’m sitting in the middle instead of all the way in the back corner to avoid you.” You silently hoped the message translated.

You pulled your laptop out of your bag. You opened it and peered over the top. Dr. Grant’s eyes were stuck on you for a second while he shuffled the papers on his desk before he nervously looked away and sat down.

You tried to look at anything other than him, but you couldn’t help stealing glances at him over the top of your screen. He put his laptop on his desk and opened it. You watched him inconspicuously as he put his jacket around the back of his chair and he pulled out a pair of glasses, placing them on his face. They made him look older, but you didn’t think it made him any less attractive. In fact, you liked the way they looked. You quickly shook the thought from your head.

You need to stop this, you’re acting ridiculous, you told yourself.

“Alright, well.” He stood up, let out a deep exhale, and put the glasses back on the table. The final students were trickling in. “I’m Dr. Grant, but you can all call me Steven. Dr. Grant is a bit formal, innit?” He chuckled, but the rest of the class remained silent. “Alright.” He rubbed his hands together nervously.

You felt bad, seeing him clearly trying to connect with the uncaring class. He messed idly with his dark blue tie before patting it down and clearing his throat.

“Well, I won’t start us off with anything too flashy today. It is the first day after all.” He began.

The lecture was a couple of hours, but Dr. Grant made it feel like it was much shorter than that. He was like a completely different person than the anxious man you’d met at the cafe. He was excited, smiling and full of energy while he taught the first lesson. To see someone so passionate about something sparked excitement and admiration inside you, even if the subject itself wasn’t your strong suit.

The amount of times he said, ‘I mean, wow’, was surprising and more than a little endearing. He certainly had a way of making a topic that you weren’t very adept in much more interesting just from his own enthusiasm. As he was wrapping up the lecture, you checked the clock. 10:20am. Your next class wasn’t until 1:00pm, leaving you plenty of time to talk to him about tutoring. Only tutoring, you reminded yourself.

You felt anxious though, standing there after the last student left. You clutched your satchel to your side like your life depended on it. He didn’t notice you at first, because you’d started to walk away with the crowd, trying to decide if you were even going to ask him to tutor you or not, but then you remembered your father’s words. I’m not paying for you to waste your time in school, you already picked a meaningless major, the least you can do is get decent grades.

You stepped up to his desk and cleared your throat. He peered up over his reading glasses and jumped when he saw you.

“Oh, erm, hi, class is dismissed.” He said anxiously, so different from the person speaking with utmost confidence to fifty or more students just a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you started, “I know, I just needed to talk to you about something.”

He started getting nervous, you could see sweat beading on his forehead above his strong eyebrows. If someone asked you why you were so anxious about asking your new history professor to tutor you, you’d tell them you had no idea, but deep down you knew it was because the two of you definitely had a weird connection at the coffee shop.

“Oh, is this about…it’s about the coffee, yeah? I really-”

“N-no, Dr. Grant-“

“Steven.” He corrected you.

“S-Steven.” You cleared your throat once again. “No, I’m, uh, I’m not worried about the coffee. I need to ask for tutoring.”

He pressed a hand to his chest in relief, “Oh, heh, right, yeah, ‘course.” A large smile on his face.

He felt the connection, too, you thought, and he’s relieved you didn’t bring it up.

“Well, there’s plenty of other students around who do that, yeah? Maybe go to the library, I think that’s where you sign up for something like that.” You didn’t know what it was about this man that captivated you, but when his eyes locked on to yours you felt your stomach twist in yearning.

“Um…yeah.” You were wearing a faint smile while accepting his rejection. “Yeah, I guess I can try that. They didn’t have anyone last semester, but maybe they will this time. Thanks.”

It was probably for the best that he didn’t tutor you, judging by his reaction, and that’s not even considering if the connection was real and you hadn’t just made it up. You gave him a friendly nod and turned on your heel toward the exit. Just as you were grabbing the door handle, Steven spoke up.

“Wait, hold on.” He said, standing up. You turned to him. “They probably aren’t very good anyway, the students they have tutoring. Why don’t you come by after your last class on Wednesday? Not sure why time you get finished, but I can make something work.”

“M-my last class on Wednesday gets over at like seven.” You explained.

He shrugged, “M’sure my goldfish will be alright if I get home a bit later than usual.”

“Wow, okay, brilliant, yes Dr. G-uh-Steven!” You couldn’t contain your toothy grin as you thanked him profusely and left.

You felt like you were in a trance for the rest of the day. You’d thought that by not having Steven in your direct line of sight you’d be able to move on from the feeling in your gut, but it only festered. He was occupying your mind. The way he laughed, the way he talked, the way he looked at you, it was maddening.

You kept thinking about his messy hair, wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers through it. When he got nervous just from looking at you, straightening his tie, you wondered what it would look like to have him loosening it, maybe unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. His eyes are what really captivated you, he looked exhausted, but they still shined so brightly when he looked at you, before he’d realized that you were his student.

When you got back to your dorm and turned in for the night, you took it upon yourself to look up your college’s specific rules around student and teacher relationships. Even though the last history professor got fired, you were trying to convince yourself now that there had to be a different reason. There just had to be.

There wasn’t a different reason though. The rules were plain as day: student and professor relationships were a no go. No one seemed to care what happened when you graduated, but until then, it was strictly forbidden. There was even talk in some resources you found about the student being expelled since they are, after all, a consenting adult who knew the consequences of their actions.

With that, it was time to lay your growing need to put yourself in Steven’s presence as much as possible to rest. At least, you wanted to. You couldn’t though, while you lay there in the dark, with Layla snoring on the other side of the room. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked you up and down, his hooded eyes drinking you in, the way he exuded confidence to the class, and then became shy around you immediately after.

Your hand trailed down under your pajama bottoms to your already soaking folds, slick with your desire to know what else Steven was proficient in. You thought about his hands around the coffee cup earlier, how big they looked, veins rippling under the skin when he brought the cup to his lips. You wondered what they felt like, what one of his thick fingers would feel like inside of you. Slipping one of your own fingers inside wasn’t enough, you wanted more, you wanted to feel him.

You wished that you could fit a second finger inside, but it was too tight. You felt hot with need as you pumped in and out of your slick hole, imagining Steven hovering over you. He would tell you how wrong it was to be doing what you were doing as he trailed his hands up your ribcage and to your breasts. Would he moan loudly when he came, or would he be quiet but breathy, pressing his face into the nape of your neck to muffle his sound?

You didn’t know much about sex, not outside of porn that is. You’d done other things before. You’d tried going down on someone, but had a hard time figuring out how to do it right, at least according to the guy you were with. He had tried eating you out, but you found it was either very overrated, or he was really bad at it.

Thinking about those things made you wonder what Dr. Grant’s cock tasted like, or what it felt like. If you couldn’t even fit two fingers, you weren’t sure how you were going to manage to take him. Just thinking about it was making your arousal become unbearable. You needed him, badly, no matter how wrong you knew it was.

You could hardly take it, feeling your orgasm approaching as you fingered yourself to thoughts of your history professor. You decided you didn’t really care what he sounded like when he came, you just ached to hear him. It almost hurt how hard you bit your lip when your cunt clamped in waves over your lone digit. Your breathing was heavy, and when you felt clarity once more, you fell back onto your pillow. You had to let it go, you had to get over him somehow.

But Steven had to get over you, too.

When he got home that night after a long day of classes, he found himself standing in front of his mirror. It had been so long since he’d heard their voices. At least a couple of months. They said they wouldn’t come back, they said they would stay in the headspace, and that they wouldn’t say a word. They hadn’t said anything specific yet, but he could hear them becoming more active since that morning.

That wasn’t the only thing bothering him, the thought of you danced in his mind. You were there, causing his heart to race; causing him to feel a pang of guilt that was vastly outweighed by the arousal building behind his zipper. He had been fighting the pressure all day, fighting the heady thoughts. Steven liked to think he was mentally stronger than the primal desires that came with sex, but just seeing you in that coffee shop that morning, and the way you looked at him, it kept playing in his head over and over again like a movie.

It got to a point that he couldn’t bear the ache any longer. He took off his pants and boxer-briefs, freeing his weeping erection. He crawled into bed, not even bothering to remove his jacket or shirt, as he was too eager. Nothing had inspired him to relieve himself like this in a long, long time. He crawled into bed and laid down on his back, taking his cock into his closed fist.

Dry…s’dry, need some…

He leaned up, spitting a glob of saliva into his palm before going back to work on himself. He gripped his length, sliding over it with his fist much easier now, tossing his head back as he reached the tip. He ran his hand through his curls to get them out of his face, looking down at his cock while he thrust upward into his fingers.

“F-fu…” He said, trembling slightly.

He kept thinking about you, your hair, your sweet lips, the way you giggled when he burned himself on his hot coffee that morning. He whined, reaching down to grab the sheet at his side. He exhaled sharply, continuing to glide into his palm smoothly, increasing speed as he got even closer. The way your face lit up when he agreed to tutor you was etched into his memory.

So young, though…he thought, too young…

It didn’t stop him from bringing his hand back to his mouth, adding more saliva to continue jerking his length. He was putting his hips into it now, imagining what it would be like to have you, just for a second he let himself go there in his mind. He thought about having you on top of him, legs on either side of his hips. You, lowering yourself over his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt. Another whine escaped him. You were so pretty, he imagined looking up at you, maybe you’d bite your lip and throw your head back with a moan. Maybe you’d grab your breast, pinching the nipple, maybe you’d tell him how good he felt inside of you. That’s all it took. He filled the apartment with his moans as he coated his fingers and abdomen in hot sticky cum.

Steven’s brain was empty, other than thoughts of you that still plagued him. He’d hoped that by doing this, it would help him let it go, but now he wished you were there for different reasons. You were so bubbly and full of energy. He wanted to talk to you, he wanted to learn more about you, get to know what else makes you laugh.

With a heavy sigh, Steven slid off the bed, careful to keep his cum coated fingers from touching anything. He turned on the light in the bathroom and started rinsing his hands in the sink, finishing and grabbing a towel. When he started drying his hands, his eyes looked up into the mirror again.

His heart stopped. He waved at himself, checking to make sure his reflection kept up. They said they weren’t coming back…

Next Chapter

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