#marc silk

[gerryandersontv]

Fireball XL5 - 60th Anniversary Celebration Roundup!

Fireball XL5 – 60th Anniversary Celebration Roundup!

To celebrate the 60th anniversary of Fireball XL5 on Friday October 28th 2022 there’s a real boss collection of video events lined up throughout the day – and new merchandise ready on the launching rail! The second series to carry the Filmed in Supermarionation banner, Gerry and Sylvia Anderson’s Fireball XL5 first aired in the UK in 1962 and ran for 39 episodes into 1963. Set one hundred years…

[myfairhudzen]

Okay, it was very sudden. But very sweet.

I'm glad I made his day.

Worth living for.

[yaoigovroom]

handsy..

full here

[dozydawn]

Carmen Marc Valvo RTW SS 2000

Model: Taylor Foster.

[chicinsilk]

Her Serene Highness Princess Grace of Monaco wears an evening dress in white silk jersey, decorated with white ostrich feathers belonging to the Fall/Winter 1968-69 Haute Couture Collection by Marc Bohan for Christian Dior.

Son Altesse Sérénissime la Princesse Grace de Monaco porte une robe du soir en jersey de soie blanc, ornée de plumes d'autruche blanches appartenant à la Collection Haute Couture Automne/Hiver 1968-69 de Marc Bohan pour Christian Dior.

[thenerdsofcolor]

A 'Madame Web' Trailer Exists and None of You Jerks Told Me About It?

I mean, I’m a Spiderman/Spiderverse person, seriously. Not in the sense that I saw Venom, or the one with Leto, or know when Kraven the Hunter comes out, but I’m still shocked that an official Madame Web trailer has been live for a whole week and I’m just watching it today. Internet! What’re you doing, man? Continue reading Untitled

[pinkresurrection]

Marc Jacobs fw20

[bbbrianjones]

MARC HUNTER photographed by KATHLEEN O’BRIEN, 1978

“Marc would be dressed in something akin to a pirate’s outfit - satin trousers, frilled open-neck shirt, tapping a riding crop against his knee-high leather boots, eyeing the teenies with those pale blue eyes, globes of contempt - a nice chap with a bent for public relations.” - John Dix

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Marc Spector (+ some NSFW) headcanons

Marc gives off bodyguard vibes wherever he goes with you, especially with his slicked back hair and sunglasses.

He's the more casual romantic gentleman with you. But still takes you out on fancy Restaurants and makes the night memorable for both of you.

Marc likes cuddling with you too, keeping you trapped in his embrace while running his fingers lovingly through your hair.

Marc is dominant 80% of the time. The other 20% are when he's not in dom mood, if he feels needy or if you ask him and you're lucky because he allowed it.

In bedroom he's top most of the time, he's also into spanking and has a gun and knife kink.

Marc is the horniest of the three. He can be horny 24/7.

His major turn on is simply your existence.

No surprise, he's into marking. His favorite are bite marks and hickeys.

God have mercy if you tease him while he's horny... you'd get dicked down in a heartbeat.

Marc is the most possessive one of the three, he likes having his hands on you, either around your shoulder, waist or simply holding hands, dirty reminders in bed.

He's very experienced(in the bedroom).

His aftercare are giving attention to spots he was particularly rough with and a nice clean up shower.

If you're having a bad day he will be there for you whenever you need him.

Marc also likes fucking you while in the Moon Knight suit...he has increased strength and stamina while having it summoned...uh, yeah feel free to do what you want with that information...

You know Marc is especially horny when he texts you if you could end your shift earlier or he straight away sends dirty messages(or pictures)

If anyone decides to get handsy on you, the person will end up with a broken nose. :)

Marc has his ways on getting the best drinks, so if you feel like you need something exquisite, ask him and he will get it. <3

Marc may look and act like an army of a man, but that's just his exterior. His interior are as soft as silk. <3

[martysimone]

Coco de Mer | Marella bodysuit in silk + Chantilly lace | Odyssey Spring Summer 2024 lookbook | model Talia Claire Wallis | ph Nicola Saint Marc

[gerryandersontv]

Fireball XL5: Cloud of a Billion Lights on vinyl

Fireball XL5: Cloud of a Billion Lights on vinyl

With the 60th anniversary of Fireball XL5 looming, Anderson Entertainment has decided to re-launch the iconic and collectable Century 21 record label originally formed in 1965! Using the same “21 minutes of adventure” concept and mirroring the original artwork which has become iconic in its own right, the series kicks off with the Fireball XL5 audio adventure Cloud of a Billion Lights, to be…

[bebemoon]

"cottage easter egg hunt" look | requested by @allthestoriescantbelies

sir the label white cotton eyelet button-up top and short set, a/w 2o19

simone rocha white patent leather scalloped mary janes, s/s 2o15

salter house "trug" bag in pink pinstripe

marc jacobs "daisy: eau so fresh spring" eau de parfum

selkie "the silk baby soft hankie" headscarf w/ lace trim in pink

[kissitbttr]

I come here with dad’s best friend Miguel motivation

~he would touch you innocently in front of your father, like “you have smh in your hair let me get it out”

~but he would grope you any chance he got, which means every time your father wasn’t looking

~ if he got a call from your father to look after you while he was gone on a business trip, you two would fuck at every surface in da house

~oh and if his babies spilled out of you, nah he’s pushing in back

~he’d call you Spanish nicknames like ma, or mami when he’s turned on like an oven

~he adores that you call him Miggy, Papi when doing the deed

~he spoils the fuck outta you knowing that you’re the one

~by the time your father finds out that you’re dating and that Miguel corrupted his sweet gir, he would be mad angry

But he would be glad that it’s Mig and not some bitchass college frat boy, so he would let it slide

~by the time your sobbing father walks you down the aisle and you establish really high paying job at Alchemax and a running business with Miguel by your side, Miguel is locked in on getting you swollen w babies

-but bro would SOB sob while laying on your tummy after u told him that you’re growing child, he’d be like ‘he had gone too soft´

- yall would celebrate Christmas together, with you heavily pregnant so you would tap out by falling asleep

- the remaining duo would be in awe

Want me to continue?

oh my god anon HSHSJSJJSBSBS IM SPIRALLINGGGG

during dating stage he would most definitely spoil u with lots of good shit. designer shoes, handbags, lingeries. he even called someone from one of his business partner who works with famous line like Adam Selman, Alaïa, or Marc Jacobs to create your own dress. Whether it’d be made out of Swarovski Crystal or Mulberry Silk, because his smart and pretty baby deserves all the good things!!

“i told you not to buy me anything, papi! go and return them!” you scold, pointing at the three most expensive yet gorgeous dresses you have seen being displayed. one you don’t even imagine you could wear!

he shrugs in response, casually sipping his coffee. “my girl just got all A’s on her exams and three recommendation letters. you think i wouldn’t get you something, baby?”

“but this..” you eye at the specific floor-length sheer dress, made out of 200,000 Swarovski crystals. it is one of the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, you’re almost too afraid to look at it. “this must have cost a lot…”

again, he acts like it’s nothing. because it is nothing. he’s fucking miguel o’hara. he’s got all the money in the world to get you another five of these. you don’t even need to ask.

miguel walk towards behind you. a smile on his lips when he sees you in awe before wrapping his arms your waist. planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “like i said… you deserve it”

UGH this is so… dinner.. you fed me good thank u so much<333

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

I am fucking WEAK for the Anselem-Reader-Blue throuple, I’ve never even seen either movies (just clips) but I am so obsessed that they’re just addicted to each other and Blue is the subbiest sub to ever sub and they’re not letting him out of their sight ugh I want him to just abandon it all and stay in their mansion as their free use little baby boy

Hzshdasudihasiodu ahhhh! Thank you so much, you have made my day!

Also: HELL YES. Here are some:

Trine Headcanons

Anselm Volgelweide x F!Reader x Blue Jones • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | requestinfo • ko-fi •

Warnings: Blue being a little shit, mentions of bjs, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 524

Blue spends more and more (and more) time with Anselm and you, literally he’s practically moved it. (And put his stuff everywhere.) 

He is terrible with boundaries, something’s in the house? Oh, that’s his. Food in the fridge? Must be his too. Clothing in the wardrobe, not in his size, with a post stick note on it that says ‘This is not Blue’s’? That must be a typo, because he’s taking it to the tailor. And it’s his now as well. 

You resort to a water spray bottle, and spray him whenever he’s getting too excitable with all the new things he’s ‘found’. 

He’s a cat in human form. 

Takes to wearing a silk robe that is a fraction too short for most polite company (good thing you and Anselm are nowhere near polite) and flouncing around the mansion being a nuisance to your staff and begging for (demanding) attention from both you and Anselm every chance he gets.

Wakes up one morning and realises he hasn’t been to the club in over two weeks. Panics. And then calms down when you play with his hair while Anselm deep throats him, and tell him that you’d sent a stand in manager to keep an eye on things for him ages ago. 

Blue never worries about the club again. 

You take him on holiday with you both and he acts like a spoilt brat the whole time, making an absolute fuss of everything when he’s with Anselm - so Anselm will punish him. And being the sweetest little angel for you - so you’ll call him a good boy and let him sit on your lap during dinner. 

Always ends up sleeping between you both, even if you all fall asleep with someone else in the middle. It’s not an intentional thing, and none of you are quite sure how it happens like clockwork and without waking anyone up. Anselm calls it one of Blue’s many party tricks.

Blue gets very self conscious and moody when someone else makes the assumption that he is either Anselm’s or your piece on the side. “Not both?” The outrage is so strong.

He has a reputation for being even more dangerous now that he has the Vogelweide backing, and because Anselm hired a guard for Blue whose only job is to shoot people Blue tells him to shoot. (He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty.) 

When Anselm is in his office taking meetings and you’re hanging out on the chaise lounge to the side Blue likes to sit on the floor next to you. 

Both you and Anselm have tried to convince him to let you get either a bigger chaise lounge or any other seat for him, but he refuses. Preferring to recline, rather dramatically, on the floor with his head tilted back and resting against the chaise lounge seat cushions so you can play with his hair and stroke his face.

Quite often hugs your leg and kisses your knees if they are within reach. 

Has sucked off Anselm under his desk while he’s in the middle of a meeting more than once - and isn’t subtle about it. 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt

@novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[chicinsilk]

Marc Bohan for Christian Dior Spring/Summer 1965 Haute Couture Collection. Suzy Smith wears a gray and white caviar fil-à-fil pure worsted wool suit by Pierre Besson, white silk canvas blouse.

Marc Bohan pour Christian Dior Collection Haute Couture Printemps/Été 1965. Suzy Smith porte un tailleur en fil-à-fil caviar gris et blanc pure laine peignée de Pierre Besson, blouse en toile de soie blanche.

Photo Yurek.

[ozarkthedog]

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 -> 💌

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