Prompts are combatting my creative block NGL

Layla smiled warmly at Marc, her eyes burning with affection and her smile so bright she couldn't contain it, wrapping her arms affectionately around his neck, pressing herself against his body. Her fingers delicately stroking the back of his head, scratching her nails softly across his scalp, knowing how much it calmed him. She loved touching him, behind closed doors where the roaming eyes of others couldn't see, where she could have him all to herself. Sharing sweet words around one another. Teasing his hair affectionately. She had missed him, the loneliness that gnawed away at her in his absence, feeling as though a part of her was missing. She loved comforting him, she loved being close to him, silently reassuring him. She pressed her lips against his, a soft but hungry kiss, breathlessly enjoying the sensation of his lips against hers. Laughing softly as she did so.

Marc responded to her touch, guilt filling him as he reflected on the hurt he caused her by pushing her away. Good intentions doing more harm than good, worsening the rift between them. Feeling himself gripping her tighter, encouraging her to continue, hot, needy, hungry and passionate. Urging her to continue, silently communicating how much he needed her, how much he wanted her. Allowing his urges to come to the surface, giving into what his body wanted, allowing his emotions to take the wheel. Not caring about who heard or what anyone would think. The kind of kisses that claimed her, that nobody else could have this, her favourite kind of kisses. The sort of kiss that said a specific message.

I need you

I love you

I missed you

The kisses that showed his vulnerability, the kisses that reminded her that she was loved, wanted. Marc communicating his feelings for her in a way that he never could in words, the way he touched her, the way he held her. Marc showed her the tenderness he had longed for during his childhood. The kind of kisses that reminded her of how lucky she was, how lonely Marc became, as if this was the last day they would ever have. She still remembered the moment that Harrow shot Marc point blank, just as she was having an argument over the death of her father. Chasing after Harrow to get vengeance for murdering her husband. When she crossed paths again, she was over the moon, rushing into his arms to hold him. Ever since she had been even more fiercely protective over Marc, demanding he be less secretive, refusing to be forced to endure the possibility of losing him again. They hated being apart, worrying about the other's wellbeing. His responsibility and burden as Khonshu's avatar, her responsibility as a mercenary and archeologist, the knowledge that they could lose their lives at any point. The deal between himself and the moon god wasn't permanent, there were many other avatars who served under many deities, many from other mythology. Khonshu could grow tired of him and abandon him any point. Layla was now an avatar too, she could lose her life at any point, she could become separated from him again. She was now semi immortal using the power of Tawaret, she was less vulnerable. But if someone sealed away Tawaret or used other supernatural means she could still be harmed. Marc always tried to keep her out of harms way and Layla marched to the beat of her own drum. Which made their reunions all the more sweet, all the more desperate, knowing that they could have lost one another at any point. Entering one another's worlds and learning the responsibility of being an avatar.

Marc breathlessly parted their lips, opening his mouth to speak against her, still keeping eye contact. Her cheeks flushed pink, her chest heaving, her pupils dilated. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, their bodies calling for one another "God your lips are always so soft" Marc groaned.

Layla smiled against his lips, laughing softly "You always smell so good habibi" she hummed. She loved Marcs natural musk, she often found it rather strange how Marc and Steven smelled the same due to sharing a body, though they had some subtle differences. But Marc's was a familiar scent burned into her mind, one that held fond memories for her. She loved being in his arms, knowing it was the place she longed to return to.

Marc felt his cock throb at hearing her brattiness, god he loved it, the way she would tease him, knowing how to rile him up. Thanks to their marriage and learning to translate her Arabic, he had learned all sorts of secrets from her. Words of endearment and flirting only he could understand. The way she would bury her face in his neck and breathe him in, it made his heart flutter. "You have a wicked tongue, you know that?" he growled.

Layla's eyes twinkled, she could feel his hardness pressing into her, desperate to be freed from its restraints. But the longer she made him wait the better it would feel when he finally entered her. She was the only woman alive who had ever been able to make Marc beg, the only woman who could bring both him and Steven to their knees. She could only guess how much he'd been thinking about this, how much he had hungered for it. "I thought you liked my tongue" she teased, pressing her knee playfully to his groin to tease him.

Marc groaned, the blood rushing to his groin, he felt a shiver run down his spine, his mind a blur of filthy images of twisted limbs and messy sheets. She'd always been in touch with her sexuality, unashamed of her womanhood and influence. But she loved him, she shared this intimacy with only him, despite their differences and arguments, they loved one another. But he loved her for who she was, he would never wish to change Layla. Fuck Layla was such a tease, but he loved that about her, her mischief that was always so unpredictable, untamed. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, she knew how to get under his skin better than anyone else. That mischievous look in her eye that just screamed trouble.

She leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath tickling his skin, he could smell her shampoo, feel the softness of her curls. He could feel her heartbeat as their chests pressed together, the pulse in her wrist. He was tempted to trail his lips across her neck, sink his teeth into her skin and mark her, claim her. Remind anyone who got too friendly that she was spoken for, that he wasn't someone who liked to share. That he was the only man who got to enjoy this, who got to bask in her presence, the warmth of her skin. "Will you beg for me habibi?" she asked.

Marc groaned, he loved it when she spoke like that, he was never a man who would submit to anyone, he'd always been dominant, an alpha, and Layla was his brat. While Steven melted against her touch, submissive but an absolute sweetheart. The irony that he married a switch, allowing them to both enjoy Layla. Layla brought out sides of him that he never thought possible, he loved her so much, she truly was the better part of him, matching his energy. She was fearless, dangerous and she was full of fire, he couldn't have wished for a better wife. He lowered his hands to caress her ass, enjoying the feel beneath his hands, the softness of it, the curves. Slowly encouraging her legs to wrap around his waist, encouraging her to jump.

Layla picked up on his gesture, smiling in amusement as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Allowing him to lift her from the ground, gazing down at him with a hungry gaze. Her curls framing her face as she admired him, watching him intensely. That fire in her, that wild side, the mischief he loved so much, the girl who always spoke her mind, who wasn't afraid of anything, that would always stand by him in a fight. That passion, that tenderness, that loyalty, the endless devotion she felt for him, the softness that she only showed him, how she always stood by his side. He wouldn't have her any other way. Marc carried her slowly across the bedroom, smirking in amusement as he confidently led her towards the bedroom. Encouraging her lips to meet his as he followed the familiar path towards their bed.

Steven sat silently on the couch, lost in his own thoughts as he remained absorbed in the pages of a book. He was always at his happiest with a book, imagining himself in fictional worlds, among many different people. A life he could only dream of, vastly different from his life as Marc's alter and one of Khonshu's avatars. He'd memorised every book he'd ever read, all their plots and categorised which ones were his least and most favourite. His latest read, his eyes scanning the page intensely. He loved the moments of peace where he could be in his happy place, no danger, no stress, no work, no duties to Khonshu. He was utterly in his element without a care in the word, a cup of steaming tea perched nearby on the table, a dreamy look on his face. Marc knew how much books meant to Steven, how valuable they were, a few times he had found presents, gifted from Marc who had remembered how much he wanted them. He was always at his happiest with books, there was just something so magical about them. Words immortalised by infamous, classic or even upcoming authors who had brought their works into the world. Shaping others lives, influencing them and bringing them joy or other forms of emotions. Sometimes he had fallen asleep reading a book, passing away the hours until he was exhausted. Nothing could ever change his fondness for them.

Marc was silent, no disturbance, no conversations and no nagging, he could sense Marc was present but he was giving him space. Letting Steven enjoy his time with Layla and fronting. Sometimes it gave Marc peace and quiet too, time to be alone, time to reflect and time to think. He appreciated that Marc allowed sharing time, respecting when they were invading on the others time and when they were being mean. They had truly become like brothers since accepting one another into each other's lives, learning to share and communicate. He was sure Marc could sense Steven was happy, that he was safe and merely enjoying his hobbies. Even Marc got protective of his alter when he was distressed or upset over something.

He was utterly oblivious to his companion, forgetting he wasn't alone. However, while most people would have been annoyed at being ignored, she didn't mind in the slightest. She loved watching him in his element, seeing Steven so comfortable with his hobbies around her. A few times they had been on dates to bookshops together, finding books the other might enjoy. She could speak about literature and other hobbies with Steven, things Marc had never been able to appreciate or understand. Layla had on more than one occasion caught Steven passed out with a book, to which she marked the page and placed it nearby. Making sure he could find it when he woke up. He always carried some with him wherever he went, in case he fancied reading while he was out. He always had a good book recommendation and absorbed information so deeply it was inspiring.

Layla watched him fondly, a sweet smile on her face, resting her cheek against her hand, her eyes so full of love, endearment. She loved the moments when Steven fronted and she had him all to herself, the innate calmness he emitted and the charming personality he had. She hated knowing he'd been dismissed or ignored by partners in the past due to being taken advantage of or seen as too nice. Knowing he was now comfortable with showing his sarcastic side around her too. Steven was sunshine incarnate and it was so comforting, he lacked any deceptive nature, only ever sincerity and honesty. He always wore his heart on his sleeve and put others before himself. The way his hands so delicately held the book, showing his respect for such value, resting in his hands. His boyish charm was so different from Marc, though they shared a body their style and appearance greatly differed. The way his black curls fell on his face, compared to Marc's slick back style. The smart casual style of clothes he wore compared to Marc's more laid back presentation, the softer tone of voice. He reminded her at times of a schoolboy in love, sometimes the male lead of a period drama, and she loved that so much. Those soft brown eyes of his, cosy and gentle, she felt she could get lost in them, doe eyes that made him look so vulnerable. Fuck she could just eat him up, wrapped around her finger.

She had to admit their first meeting had been strange, due to the fact that he wore her husband's face, shared his body but with an entirely different personality. But soon she adjusted to her new life, learning to accept it and differentiate between the two. She had even learned to tell the difference when they swapped places and fronted, something she was rather proud of. But over time she had learned to accommodate her life around their system, even finding shared dates. Reminding them with notes and other forms of communication. She was just as protective over Steven as Marc was, knowing how vulnerable the latter was. Steven had a tendency to draw into himself when he was upset, often hiding within the system, while Marc would just sulk. But she was good for them both, sharing different relationships with the two men.

Steven shifted, instinctively feeling eyes on him, hungry eyes, similar to that of how a predator viewed its prey before attacking. He had always been someone who listened to his instincts, the moral conscience of the system. Deviating his gaze to see Layla staring at him, blushing in response. That smile of hers was dangerous, it always meant trouble, just the sight of it gave him butterflies, her true intentions unknown. He felt his heart flutter, the familiar feeling of butterflies filling his stomach with a soft tingle. He licked his lips, still cradling his book "Um... everything alright pet?" he asked shyly. He had become confident with expressing his feelings more openly, instead of just resorting to sarcasm like he used to. However, he still found himself tongue tied on occasion when he was embarrassed or stunned. He was able to share with her hobbies and interests he had never shared with anyone before. But sometimes he needed a moment to process things, to truly comprehend the situation before him.

Layla hummed softly, she loved it when Steven got embarrassed, the lovely shade of pink his cheeks would colour. She couldn't help but tease him, it was one of their love languages, but she would never do it maliciously. She knew he wasn't used to receiving such regular affection and flirtation from a woman, so she was always sure to spoil him as much as possible. "Just enjoying the view" she teased. She could sense his heart rate rising, she could see his pupils dilating, she could sense his body reacting. She loved just appreciating Steven in all his glory, all of what made him so endearing.

Steven felt his cheeks darken, she was admiring him? As in she was appreciating she found him attractive? He'd seen people become flustered before, watching girls become flattered when their crushes paid them attention. He'd watched enough bloody rom-coms to understand the experience. But to finally witness it for himself, to be on the receiving end was such a strange feeling. He'd never experienced a woman being so forward about her sexual desire for him before, it was flattering, intimidating and sexy all at the same time. To be completely at her mercy, to be the one who was being courted, the one who was being complimented. He had to admit he was enjoying it.

Layla's smile grew, seeing Steven react so adorably to her words, she slowly crawled across the couch towards him, gently taking his book to place it down on the table. Perfectly seducing him so effortlessly, using her feminine wiles to make his heart flutter. Crawling onto his lap playfully, cupping his face in her hands fondly, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. She knew Steven had never been appreciated by his past partners, he had never been noticed before. His boss treated him as a doormat and regularly berated him, his coworkers never remembered him. She couldn't imagine how someone could treat Steven so poorly. Seeing him brighten whenever she walked into a room, how giving, affectionate and thoughtful he was. The way he followed her like a lovesick puppy, the daydreamy expression he always wore. He really was adorable.

Steven hesitated, as much as he wanted to touch her he was stunned into surprise. His brain slowly piecing together what had happened, recognising that Layla was seducing him. Watching her worship his body, watching her shower affection upon him. He loved it when she was on top of him, the way he could just give himself to her, the way he caressed her so gently. He loved worshipping her, adoring her, treating her like she was something fragile.

She gently coaxed his hands, tracing them to her hips and placing them there, encouraging him. She slowly slid his reading glasses off to see his face "There you are" she teased. She always saw him, the way she always spoke to him so gently, the way she could never be mad at Steven. She was always careful not to upset him, to raise her voice or unnecessarily involve him in something that may distress him. She was truly perceptive, she could always recognise the small subtle signs in his change of mood. The things she noticed about him made him feel seen, more seen than anyone had before. The way she held his face so he could look her in the eye, but also reassuring him this was real.

Steven shivered, every touch sent tingles across his skin, he wanted to trace his fingers across her skin, burn the memory into his brain. To just breathe her in, memorise her kisses and hold her close to him "Can... Can I pet?" he asked. He wanted to memorise this moment, he wanted to remember her straddling his lap and gazing at him like he was her sun. One perfect moment of domestic bliss descended into flirting and intimacy, he liked where this was going. He just wanted to touch her, he just wanted to feel her skin and warmth, to feel her soft lips against his. To kiss until he felt breathless, dizzy and so utterly blissful he felt like he was floating.

Layla smiled, humming fondly, the way he silently begged for her approval, the way he silently yearned for her touch. Steven was always so soft, patient and observant, he memorised the little things. He respected her boundaries, gave her space when she needed or wanted it and never complained. He even asked permission if he sensed that perhaps it wasn't an appropriate time. Steven was an attentive lover, he always checked in and he always made sure they were satisfied, aftercare was crucial. She leaned down, her curls tumbling in front of her face, pressing her lips to his with a content hum, soft, tender and loving. She wanted to stay in this perfect moment, the smell of warm tea, curled up on the couch with Steven, losing themselves in kisses. Her fingers running through his soft curls.

Steven was taken aback, he was used to Layla taking the lead but he hadn't expected this, he'd been so absorbed in his book, everything escalated so fast. The way he just let her take the lead, mesmerised by her. How she just let him touch her, how she just let him caress her and dote on her. Gazing into her eyes and feeling so safe, so loved and so treasured, before he let himself enjoy the kiss. Soon feeling that familiar carnal urge, the blood rushing to his hips, feeling himself throb within his tightly constricted trousers. Soon he leaned into the kiss, his hands caressing her hips and holding her in place, tracing lines across her back. Letting himself submit to need, his kisses becoming more eager, more hungry, more intense. Her hands still cupping his face, her lips tasted like honey, so sweet and additive.

Layla knew how to leave him breathless, craving more, how to leave him flustered and shut his brain off. She just had a way of crawling inside of his brain and messing with his senses. She always left an impression which was probably why Marc had fallen for her in the first place. And she smelled heavenly, a mixture of her shampoo and perfumed oils she loved. Steven had memorised them all, when she changed scents, when she had just washed her hair fresh from the shower. He loved to linger in the scent and make new memories. The way she kissed him was always so tender, never forceful, she never made him uncomfortable. She knew Steven wasn't one to rush, he liked to remain in the moment, a slow build of passion. He was a hopeless romantic but she loved that about him, how he was always thinking of her. Always thinking of meaningful gestures she would appreciate.

But in return Layla treasured him, she always communicated with Steven during intimacy, she loved hearing him moan. She always checked in and she loved how he provided aftercare, holding her close, wrapping his arms around her. She had let him rest his head on her lap while she teased his hair, laid in a tangled mess of sheets and shared pillow talk. She always listened, she was always invested and she was always present, she never spaced out during conversation. A tender, loving and reassuring way, calming his thoughts, easing his soul and making him feel loved. She was always smiling with Steven, a warm sense of comfort when she was around him. They could be vulnerable with one another in a way that differed from Marc, similar to that of newlyweds.

Layla knew how to ease his anxieties, she invested herself in all of his hobbies, his boyish charm and bubbly energy was so endearing to her. He always had enthusiasm for knowledge and loved being helpful to others. Whenever Steven felt depressed, had sleeping issues, withdrew into himself or felt unappreciated, Layla knew how to console and comfort him. She supported him and mades sure he was never neglected. Reminding him she cared, that she appreciated him. Layla was the first girl he had ever kissed and the last one he would ever want to, she always had him blushing like a schoolboy. And leaving him feeling like the luckiest man alive.

"Somebody's excited" Layla teased, her lips pressed to his as she smiled against his lips. Steven choked, whimpering at her blunt comment about his obvious arousal to their messing around. "You know Steven, you could always leave the book for later and enjoy some real life fantasies instead" she hummed. She knew all of his fantasies and had no shame in acting them out if they pleased him. She knew exactly how he liked it, what made him excited.

Steven groaned weakly against her lips, the blood rushing to his groin as delicious images of her body flooded his brain. As much as he loved books, the image of Layla in front of him was something he couldn't deny was deliciously tempting. He wanted to feel her body entangled with his in the throes of passion immediately. Nodding eagerly against her lips as he allowed her to continue her seduction.

Layla smiled, slowly crawling off Steven, gently coaxing him by the collar, leading him towards the bed with a coy smile, Mentally undressing him as a teasing smirk laced her lips. Her dark eyes hungry, mischievous and oh so tempting. Steven was at her mercy and he had no shame in letting Layla sink her claws into him.