Marc Spector - Blog Posts

Just 2 awkward, lonely boys trying to live through another day (please let them be)

ok… imagine a moon knight and daredevil crossover where dd has no issues fighting the invisible jackals because the dude cant see shit anyway. moon knight is like “you can see them??” and matt, not wanting to reveal his blindness but having no idea theyre invisible, is just like “yeah i can see of course i can see”

moon knight then assumes dd is an avatar of an egyptian god. bc what else? so, naturally, moon knight asks “what god do you serve?”

“jesus”

“what??”

“im catholic?”

“what???”

And I agree

“not all men”

you’re right, my favorite fictional character would never.

Guys I watched Moon Knight lol

sometimes ur babygirl is a 35 year old man and thats ok this was a quick little doodle, I dont like doing fanart really cause I never really fully capture the character right but i wanted to at least try, doesnt look great cause its just a little sketch doodle lol so im not upset abt it lol

🔞 thoughts! Don’t interact if you don’t like

Warning- high nsfw, talk of shifting realities, and me losing it

God I hate being so needy, because I’m trying to reality shift and all I can think about is Steven fucking the depression out of me _~_ fuuuck but I want him to. Or just one of OI characters fucking me. Me shaking and moaning as they fuck and use my virgin pussy as I hold onto them damn near for dear life.

God because imagine Laurent fucking into you full Nelson style as Jonathan rubs your clit praising you for taking Laurent so well…

AHHHHH FUCK-!!

Guess who’s sad again✨✨!

Okay i thought of this because it’s the way I am, so a Moonknight system x reader with abandonment issues.

Like the issue is so bad like if Marc and reader are just enjoying some time together and all of a sudden Marc just gets up and goes to the bathroom, reader is just sitting there staring at the door like a dog.

Marc:… Hon I was just in the bathroom.

Reader: You could have said that!

*reader is probably holding onto Marc’s pillow like it’s him*

I want to smoke a pack of cigarettes with him and cry in his arms till I fall asleep

Moonknight imagine because I’m sad.

I look over to Steven as he sits at his computer, but I just lay on the bed we share looking at him with sadness in me. “Steven… do you love me? Or am I a phase?” I ask him bluntly. Steven freezes as he looks towards me. “Oh sweetie no. No, no, no, why do you think something so hurtful?”

He walks to my side cupping my face as I hold back tears. “I… I don’t know… I just feel like you, Marc, Jake, and Layla will grow tired of me.” I sob out. Steven hugs me close, closer then ever before. “No honey no. We all love you, we love you so much we want to see you happy.”

Steven kisses me on the head as he wipes away my tears. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I don’t know why I-i just-“

“Shhh- it’s okay, it’s okay love.”

Steven stops me hugging me to his chest and petting my head. “Give yourself a moment to breathe then when you’re ready we can talk. Okay?”

I nod as we cuddle with each other as I slowly start opening up.

End

(Sorry this is horrible. I’m not the best with grammar but I’m getting better. So I really hope you liked this and if you have any suggestions, please feel free to share.)

I’ve released something in C.ai with the Moon-knight boys

So Steven is sweet and I just talk to him and I have to be flirty sometimes and he falls slowly

But then Marc is just flirty straight from the get go. Like boy!! I want to know you more and all he wants is to 👀👀

Then Jake I don’t always talk to but after talking to him for awhile and getting to know each other he starts falling

Idk it’s something small I’ve noticed lately

Update:

The Marc chat is getting spicier

Dream Boy (2/?)

Steven Grant x F!Reader, Marc Spector x F!Reader

↪ Warnings: Fluff, Tiny Angst, Not the best of Writing

↪ Summary: Your coworker seems to be a weirdo. but not a bad weird. Maybe, a cute- a cute weirdo?

A/N : Mostly just a sub in story. This is from my Wattpad

Tags : @later-gators12

Words: 1k

The sun hit your closed eyelids.

You grunted as the light continued to irritate your eyes. Your hand came up to your forehead to rub it. Trying to soothe the pain.

You had another day of work to get to. Luckily, waking up wasn't too bad. Once you remembered what you had to do today it made a smile creep on your face.

Not necessarily what, but more like who.

A loving sigh escaped your lips as you rose from your mattress.

"Steven.."

You smiled as your eyelids lifted. You saw the sun, once again, making sun rays through your window.

It was a wonderful sight as you read your alarm.

6:00...

"Much better.."

You mumbled as you reached for your phone. You checked one of your list apps to see what you had planned for today. You wrote down what you needed to bring, some goals, and some exciting books to get to.

Especially your Egyptian books. Those are what interested you most.

Steven had appeared back into your mind. You tried to shake the thoughts away but somehow they didn't.

Then a look of shock came from your face.

'He doesn't even know my name'

Your hand softly touched your lips as you thought about this. You sighed, your heart felt broken but you knew it wasn't. What was happening to you?

This feeling. You didn't understand it.

You pushed yourself off your bed and made a plan. 'Don't get attached'

You gathered all your essentials and made it out the door with some time to waste. You thought it would be best to grab a coffee. You greeted your neighbors as you walked down your street. It was a calm morning with birds chirping, and the sun shining onto your soft skin.

You felt cool. It wasn't too hot nor too cold. Just cool.

A calm smile was set on your face. You rested at your bus stop sipping your coffee, excited to see a familiar face at the museum.

. . . . . . . . 𓆩❤︎𓆪 . . . . . . . .

Finally, the bus had made it to your stop. You had finished your warm beverage and threw it out. As you got on, you noticed how packed it was.

'This isn't going to be a fun ride, is it?'

An unamused sigh exited your lips as you squeezed past people to make it to the back of the bus.

You were suddenly pressed up against another man. Your hands couldn't be placed on your sides so you were forced to rest your hands on the poor man's chest.

You were too embarrassed to look up to the victim who was now in your grasp.

"I-I know you"

The man huffed. You darted towards the voice to see someone familiar.

Steven.

The bus suddenly swerved to the left, causing Steven to push you up against the wall of the bus. Your body tensed up as you tried to keep balance.

Steven's arm was right above your shoulder. Hopefully, this didn't spiral into a mess.

The curly-haired boy looked down at you and looked incredibly embarrassed. He tried to move his arm away, but the bus was moving in a way that if he did remove it, he would smother you with his chest.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry about this uh"

He seemed to try and call you something. Your brain remembered the fact he never got your name.

"Y/n"

You huffed out trying to find somewhere else to look besides his beautiful hazel eyes.

"Y-yes, Y/n, I'm terribly sorry"

You instantly reassured him. He accepted the reassurance but you could tell that he somehow didn't fully attain it.

His eyes seemed to be glued to you. When you noticed his glare he would turn towards the window. Then after a couple of seconds, he would turn right back to you.

You chose to accept this game that he didn't know he was playing. You scanned Steven's face and noticed that his eyes had dark circles under them.

You stared harder to make sure they weren't bruises. 'Has he not been sleeping?'

This situation with you being trapped by Steven made an electrifying feeling occur below your lower abdomen. This was definitely gonna be an interesting bus ride.

. . . . . . . . 𓆩❤︎𓆪 . . . . . . . .

You stumbled out of the bus. Steven jolted towards you trying to catch you. He seemed to be ready for your fall but you caught yourself just in time.

Steven still went to grab your arm, since he didn't notice you caught yourself.

Your face flushed from seeing how much he cared about your well-being. Sure, the bus ride was a tease, but this was something else.

'Why are you doing this to me universe'

You and Steven were right outside the Museum. Yet, you both were stuck. Stuck on the fact Steven hadn't let go of your arm.

If you asked him to let go, you would miss the warmth. If you didn't, then Donna would eventually find you two. Her most unloyal employees.

"Ste-"

"Yeah, sorry"

Steven let go and stormed into the Museum. 'That...was....interesting'

You followed after him. Once you entered, you saw that Steven was already by the counter. This was unusual behavior coming from him.

You felt like you knew that he would apologize sincerely and make you feel like he did an act of crime. But this, this was not normal.

Sure, you've only met him for a day, but it seemed like you knew him for years. His hair was swept back from his forehead, and you noticed that his accent had disappeared.

He sounded like a proud American. 'Weird'

You shook it off, you didn't wanna make a scene and ask all these weird questions towards a man that you just met.

You walked into the Gift Shop. You saw that there were only a couple of customers inside. You set your stuff down and took a deep breath in.

'Let's get this over with'

You turned towards the cash register. Your eyes instantly fell onto Steven, who was reorganizing some stuff on the shelves.

His posture seemed different. It was almost like he was more formal and not so flimsy. Your eyes were so fixated on the young man that you didn't notice a customer come up to you.

"Excuse me? Helloooo?"

You heard the man but you didn't turn your attention towards him. You were just too focused on Steven.

"Hey!"

The man then slammed his hand on the counter. You shook and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Deepest apologies sir"

"Yeah yeah whatever, scan this"

The man shoved something into your hand. You didn't care to know so you just scanned and rang him up.

"$5.00 please"

You heard a scoff as he handed you the money. You bit your lip in anger as you gave him his change and receipt.

"Have a nice day!"

You said sarcastically. The man rolled his eyes and exited the facility which left you to admire someone.

But, when you looked back, Steven was nowhere to be seen. You looked down at your hands disappointed. Your arms rested on the cold countertop.

'This job just doesn't get any easier'

You started to lean forward on the counter and began to lay on your hand, which was holding up your head. You swayed your rear end side to side as you stood there with nothing to do. No sight of Steven and absolutely no customers.

You sighed as your eyelids began to fall. You weren't tired but the feeling of boredom made you, well, bored.

Your waist stuck out more as you finally lay your head on the counter. This wasn't comfortable at all.

You thought about sleeping on the floor, which made you laugh a bit.

"O-oh Y/n?"

You rose from your position and turned around to find Steven right behind you.

Your heart began to beat out of your chest. You started to get sweaty and you felt like you were having a panic attack.

"How long were you there for?!"

You pushed out. You noticed that Steven's eyes were fixated on your figure. It made you feel nervous and yet it also made that stimulating feeling come back.

"A couple of minutes I would say"

Your eyes widened and you gulped intensely at the fact that you remembered swaying your behind not too long ago.

You noticed that Steven was slowly growing a smirk on his face.

'This isn't how Steven would act at all!'

You tried to smile but you thought about how Steven's personality changed.

Steven's legs began to shuffle towards you. Almost hesitantly. You turned your head towards the shop to see if anyone was there to interrupt whatever this was.

No one, absolutely no one was in sight. You darted your eyes towards The curly-haired boy. He had his eyes set on your frame.

Steven had stopped right in front of you. You began to slow down your breathing.

The male then reached for something in his pocket. Your breath hitched, 'What was he grabbing?! Is this where I die!?'

Your eyes shut, waiting for the worst.

"Here"

Steven spoke softly. You reluctantly opened your eyes to find a name tag in the boy's hands.

"You alright?"

He said with a scoff. You smiled sheepishly as you swept the tag away from him.

"Quite amazing actually"

You gave him a thumbs up with one of your hands as you clipped the label onto your shirt with the other.

He rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled as he began to walk back to one of the shelves.

"Jesus.."

You huffed out trying to catch your breath.

Once you finally settled. A customer rang up. You put on a smile and got back to work.

'What a turn of events'

Dream Boy (1/?)

Steven Grant x F!Reader, Marc Spector x F!Reader

↪ Warnings: Fluff, Stuttering (Sorry), Not the best of Writing, Oscar Isaac

↪ Summary: Your first day on the job. Seems simple enough right? Well, that simplicity changes when you meet your new boss and new coworker. Simple....right?

A/N : I'm so sorry for this. The stuttering does get out of hand tbh- I hope this isn't too cheesy. This is from my Wattpad. It's sure going to look childish. Yeah, just read it. What could go wrong?

Cheerio!

Words: 1k :)

It was a day like no other.

You had work today at the Museum. You had just gotten a job there and didn't want to go. Sure, it was to pay off rent, and yeah, you thought it would be fun.

But, waking up at 6 am just to sell things that didn't associate with Egyptians seemed foolish.

You lifted yourself off your very comfortable bed. It was the most relaxed you've been in a while. You had such a groggy feeling as you lazily opened your eyelids. Your eyes gave a second to adjust.

The sun shined through your curtains. You stretched your arms and yawned as you set your eyes on your alarm clock.

6:55...

That's what it read. right? You squinted your eyes so that you could make sure you were reading it correctly.

"Oh, bloody hell.."

You huffed as you quickly got up to grab your clothes from your dresser. Two words repeated in your head as you tried to rush your way out of the apartment. 'I'm Late. I'm Late. I'm Late!'

You eventually did make it out the door but, dang, you didn't have your keys.

You rolled your eyes as you barged back into your apartment to find your keys. Didn't take you long, but it could've been quicker to find them.

You stormed out the door, locking it swiftly. You would be delighted to just look decent since you didn't get a chance to even look at yourself in the mirror.

Just what you need to start your new day at work.

. . . . . . . . 𓆩❤︎𓆪 . . . . . . . .

You had eventually set foot into the museum. Sadly, you were looking for the gift shop. Your field of vision was a bit lazy as you tried your hardest to look around without looking like a twat.

Your search was stopped when someone tapped your shoulder.

Your body jolted towards the tap. Your eyes had moved first as your head followed to reveal a woman. A very disappointed-looking woman to be exact.

Your eyes went straight for the name tag. It read 'Donna'

'Shit, it's my boss'

The stiffness in your body grew as she stared at you with a disgusted face.

"Annndd where the hell have you been?"

Her accent was strong as she scolded you. You gave her a sheepish smile as you scratched the back of your neck.

"I- I'm sorry, I wo-"

"I don't need your excuses, your 'partner' was late too. Can I not even have loyal employees?!"

Her voice rose. You were stuck on the word she used for your secretary. They are supposed to help you in the Gift Shop department since you've never been good with cashiers. You would've never expected them to be late.

"Well? get to WORK!"

Your eyes grew wider as people around you began to stare. You nodded to Donna, yet, you still had to ask her one more question. Where the hell is the gift shop.

"Don-"

"To your right"

"Yes ma'am"

You saluted her off for some reason. You shook it off as you jogged towards the Gift Shop. Luckily, it was easy to see. You were also glad to see that there weren't any customers.

You finally reached a white counter that shined bright against the lights from the ceiling.

You looked left and right for your so-called secretary. You couldn't quite find them so you just decided to take a minute for yourself and put your stuff away.

You had also found a small mirror on the counter.

You decided it would be best to fix the mess of hair that appeared to be a bird's nest.

You laughed a bit at yourself as you attempted to fix it. Along with your eye bags, you grabbed some under-eye foundation, which you thought was very useful.

As you began to place the substance on your face, some sort of eerie feeling came upon you. It didn't feel right but it didn't feel wrong either.

You shook your head slightly and finished the rest of the mush on your face so it didn't look out of place.

Suddenly, your eyes met with another's in the mirror. You looked concerned as you slowly turned towards the being.

"Oh..h-hi"

Someone said with a flustered voice. Your face met with theirs. You scanned them, it was a guy. A very handsome guy to say the least.

You had forgotten about their greeting so you blurted out,

"H-hello!"

Your face went into a bright pink as the man chuckled a bit at your response. You tried to laugh along but your brain felt like it was shutting down.

"I-I'm guessing you're the one working with me, no?"

You forced yourself to nod a 'yes' towards the black-haired boy. He appeared to be wearing a grey jacket of sorts with a button-up collar and some very nice dark grey jeans. He had very curly hair which fell on top of his forehead. 'Talk about smoking hot!'

You hadn't noticed, but a smirk grew onto your face as you scanned the man's features.

"Let m-me show ya the ropes"

"Sure"

He spoke fluently, yet, he always stuttered at least once in his sentences. Probably because you were a new person to appear in his life. An attractive one to say the least.

He began showing you where everything is. You had a fond memory so it wasn't too hard to recollect everything. You took one whole circle around the Gift Shop until you came back to the counter.

"So? Y-you think you're good to go?"

You meddled with your hands as you were stuck on one thing. The stupid cash register. That's the one thing that you struggled with the most.

"I-I um... Could you p-possibly.."

Why was this so damn hard? You were usually so good at speaking your mind and finding words without thinking about it. For some reason, it was so hard to find the words to ask how to use a singular cash register.

You rolled your eyes at yourself. The curly-haired boy didn't seem to take it that way.

"S-Sorry, did I say something wrong?"

A confused look came back to you as you waved your arms around.

"No! of course not, why would you think that?"

He started to fiddle with his thumbs as he couldn't think of something to say. You looked at him for a second to spot a name tag. You quickly read it.

"Steven"

Your right hand covered your mouth from the sudden outburst. 'I didn't mean to say that out loud!'. Steven looked at you with his cheeks turning a dark red. His eyes were wide as his mouth was partly open.

"How-"

"Your name tag! Don't worry I'm not a stalker!"

You both laughed a bit in relief. This was getting a little awkward. You sure as hell didn't want Donna to come back and yell at the two of you for not getting your work done.

"Just- could you help me with the register?"

Steven's eyes looked joyous. It was as if they were sparkling.

"M-my help?!"

He was pretty joyful. He looked like a puppy as he led you towards the back of the counter.

"Cute"

You whispered as you followed. He looked at you but went right back to the cashier with a bright smile on his face. Then he began to show you how it works and yada yada.

. . . . . . . . 𓆩❤︎𓆪 . . . . . . . .

The shift was almost over. You should've been grateful, but you weren't. You felt this pain in your chest as you began to close off the shop. 'What's wrong with me?'

You've never felt this, it didn't feel right. Your face looked disgusted as you turned around back to Steven, who had just finished putting away the plushies that were on the floor.

His face looked gentle as he strolled over to you.

"Are y-you alright?"

Your face fell back into a calm smile as you spoke to the nervous boy.

"I'm quite alright, you?"

"Feelin like a ray of sunshine"

He gave you a warm smile. You both chuckled as you left the shop to finally close off your nights.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

You said as you held the back of your neck with your hand. Steven put his gaze on you, it was as if he was staring at you lovingly. 'As If!'

"Can't wait.."

He darted his eyes towards the ground as you both walked out of the museum. You were going to say goodbye until you noticed something. Steven had been walking the same way as you towards your bus stop.

"Uh, Steven?"

His face jolted up to look at you once again

"O-oh, hello"

"Do you take this bus too?"

His face froze as he looked at the bus stop. It sure was his bus stop. His head turned towards you and then his eyes did.

"I guess it is"

His smile never faded as you both waited for the bus. You did eventually get on it, together. Steven was kind enough to pay for you. You reassured him that he didn't need to. He shrugged it off saying that he owes you.

"Owe me for what?"

"F-For being so kind"

His smile just somehow grew larger and brighter. He sure was optimistic. You ran a hand through your hair as you looked out the window for a second. It was almost time for you to get off.

Butterflies formed in your stomach. The butterflies seemed to be a good and bad feeling. They came from Steven's compliment but also came from the fact you were going to leave someone who made you happy.

Your stop became closer and you sighed.

Steven's face grew concerned. He didn't say anything but he did glance at you from time and time.

You got up from your seat and waved goodbye.

"Now I will see you tomorrow"

A loving smile formed on your face as you looked at the curly-haired boy one more time. He smiled back. You could hear your heart pound as he said his next words. It was the cutest thing he said all day.

"Laters Gators"

A/N: Wasn't too bad, yeah? I might post the second chapter. Idk, we shall see... Hope you enjoyed my awful writing <3

So I edited this meme for my fellow moon knight fans:

!!!Kinda Spoilers for ep. 5 idk?!!!

+ The clear version I made for everyone who wants to do their own, use my moon children if you want to

The Moon Upon The Itsy Bitsy Spider

Moon Knight POV

Collaborators:

Mars- @marsmartens - Masterlist

Masterlist:

Chapters:

Chapter One: The Discovery

One-Shots:

Art:

Jokes:

Moon’s Haunted

A/N: On my collaborator’s posts, you might see me referred to either as Major or Loki, either of these are fine to refer to me as, one is simply my username and the other is my chosen name!

Wc: ~460

A/n: Hello! This is part of a little series I’m collaborating with @marsmartens on, and I’m the secondary writer mainly focusing on the Moon Knight System’s point of view. All kneel, and good day. -Loki /|\ Major Stumbles

Tw: Swearing, smoking, and stalkerish tendencies.

🎧—————^-v—^-v——•————^-v—^-v——

-Come as you are- revamped

-Nirvana

Jake pushed his hat up with his thumb, pulling a low drag from the cigarette perched between his pinky and ring finger as he did so. Cold air rushed into the tiny cab as he rolled the window down to blow the smoke out into the environment, another drag pulled from the cig almost immediately after. His interest had been piqued, so he let the engine stall even as the light turned green. No one was on this damned street either way.

A kid stood across the road. Well, not a child-kid, very much an adult, but he seemed younger than Jake himself. A beanie had been nestled on his head and a scarf tossed around his shoulders, both barely warm enough with the threadbare jacket around him and the old gloves on his hands. Light illuminated the kid’s face from a caller that’d been left to the final ring twice now. 

Whoever was on that line was gonna be pissed when the call finally went through. Jake grinned at the thought. Another drag, another blast of cold air from the window. It was a wonder the kid hadn’t seen or heard him yet. Another drag, another blast of cold air from the window. One thought per breath, he was getting dull. Marc would probably be suspicious of how much the meat suit’s lungs would ache in the morning, but that wasn’t his problem. Another drag, another blast of cold air from the window. The kid moved.

That call had apparently finally been picked up. The kid had pressed the phone to his ear, looking nervous as he mainly listened to whoever was on the other side with the occasional comment. Another drag, no blast of cold air. As the kid shivered, the cigarette sizzled out. Jake had been done with it anyway. That guy was much more interesting.

A thin lump around the middle finger of his right hand in the glove indicated a ring, the only one on either hand. A promise ring, most likely, implying a partner. The kid’s nervous demeanor made Jake think that he didn’t have a great partner, either from going through a rough patch or just a jerk lover in general. With a relationship like that, the partner would probably be hounding this kid like a dog on an arsehole. No visible work attire, probably on vacation or just immigrated. With how scolded the kid looked, it was likely an impulsive decision that his partner hadn’t even had the chance to pick up on before he was gone.

Jake grinned. Another cigarette was tapped from the carton and balanced between his teeth. The thing lit, and his engine revved as he sped off through the newly-red light.

Steven would like that one.

Masterlist

Sketches of MCU actors I've done so far to improve my technical art skill 🪻

Actor: Sebastian Stan - Character: Winter soilder/James 'Bucky' Barnes

Actor: Oscar Isaac - Characters: Moon Knight and Miguel O'Hara

Actor: Anthony Mackie - Character: Captain America/Sam Wilson

Actress: Deborah Ann Woll - Character: Karen Page

🤍 They have a boy band and it's called the trauma boys 🤍

Can't unsee it now, can't complain either

OMG???? THIS WHOLE SERIES IS JUST MAGNIFICENT

pornstar!moon-boys x fluffer!reader

part three: jake

a/n: some headcannons bc we filthy up in this bitch >:) 1.5k??? i'm overcompensating for something lmao

others: marc | steven | more steven

as a fluffer, it's your job to know how to keep the boys interested. each alter has their own preferences:

(NSFW 18+ under the cut)

jake: the troublemaker

GIF by manny-jacinto

Jake was the last (and final?) alter you met. He didn't ask for you the first time you met. Actually, you thought you were seeing Marc, but it turns out Jake was 'covering this one' for him, whatever that means.

It turns out Jake had been in the industry longer than Steven but you've just never met him. Unlike the other boys, he was used to taking whatever fluffer was offered on set, not really preferring or caring who was preparing him for the day. It never really mattered to him.

And then he met you.

His eyebrows raise when you walk in, eyes taking in every inch of your body. You're dressed in a pair of comfy shorts and an oversized shirt, hair styled casually so it's out of your face (Marc was going through a phase where he craves to see you in pajamas, needing that extra domesticity and softness).

Jake doesn't greet you, or even bother to stand up from the couch to shake your hand. He looks...amused, like he recognizes you.

"You're that girl that has my brothers wrapped around her finger." It's not a question, more like a statement.

He leans back against the couch as if to get a better view of what's in front of him. He looks like Marc, but he doesn't sound or carry himself like him. And he's definitely not Steven.

You don't deny his words, "And... you are?"

"Lockley, Jake Lockley." He still doesn't move to shake your hand, just says it with a nod.

"Another...?"

"Yeah, there are three of us... As far as I know."

"Where's --"

"Marc? I dunno." He doesn't look too concerned. It's almost like he's barely interested in the conversation when it isn't about himself. "But I'm here." You catch your first glimpse of his famous smirk, one that you've learned spells trouble.

You've named Jake as the troublemaker of the trio because he constantly bends the rules and does what he wants. Especially with you.

For one, he's the first alter you ever fucked. Actually, he's the first pornstar you've fucked, too.

Usually you have a longer session the first time, but 20 minutes would have to do. He's still staring at you, sitting on the couch with his legs spread wide. Inviting.

You go up to him like any other client, not phased by his dark eyes and mischievous allure, and straddle over his thighs. His hands immediately come up to hold your waist, steadying you easily against him.

Other than that, he doesn't make a move, clearly waiting to see what you'll do.

"So what do you like, Lockley?"

"Aren't you supposed to figure that out, sweetheart?"

Kissing Jake always takes your breath away. He's demanding but somehow he makes you feel like you need it, not the other way around.

He's dirty with it, drawing you in with soft kisses before nipping at your lips and then deepening it by laving his tongue against yours. It's addicting how smoothly he moves against you, tempting your body to take it a step up, to cross that line.

You are sitting up on your knees just a few inches off of his lap, hovering over and making out with him, hands cradling his jaw. You have the upper hand (and are literally over him) but you've never felt so lost in a kiss.

You feel his hands drag from your waist to your ass. He grasps you, shoving your loose soft shorts up so he can feel your skin against his palms. You let him.

That was your first mistake.

You're distracted by his mouth when his hand shifts from your butt to your aching center. You've been dripping -- soaking since he gave you a taste of his tongue, since he first held you.

You let out a surprised moan as his fingers press flush against your clothed core, stroking against your most sensitive area. He applies the perfect amount of pressure against your cunt, brushing and prodding at your entrance over your clothes before cruelly teasing your clit.

You let it go on far longer than you should've, but it just felt so good. And then it felt too good.

He rubs your clit until you're seeing white, until you can only think of him and how he's touching you.

You gasp, "Jake!" Your legs shake from having to hold yourself up as he pushes you off the edge. He growls as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep you steady. You settle back onto his lap, forehead resting against his chest as you pant and calm down.

He's hard as a rock against you, practically pulsing as he watches you come down from your orgasm and melt against him.

He figured you out, and you, him.

Jake gets off on getting you off.

When you're his fluffer, you're his to touch, tease, and prod, not the other way around.

You wouldn't really call him a 'giving' partner because at the end of the day, he does it for himself.

He's selfish in how he'll pull orgasm after orgasm out of you, just because it pleases him. He doesn't care if you're writhing under him.

That first session didn't end where it was supposed to. Giving you an orgasm was already more than you're used to. But he kept going. You were distracted, caught off guard.

That was you're second mistake.

Before your lust-fogged mind could wrap around what was happening, your loose and stretchy pajama shorts were tugged to the side and he was pushing up into you.

The stretch was intense, but he slid in easily with how wet you were for him. You both groan simultaneously as he filled you to the brim.

After that first round, Jake ceased production for the day, telling everyone to go home while yelling "Don't fucking interrupt me" on his way back to his dressing room.

---

(He's not allowed to fuck you during working hours anymore -- they even put it in his contract. He wasn't too happy about that.)

Needless to say, you were called back the next day.

As much as Jake loves to play with you, sometimes there isn't enough time, especially on bigger projects with less time to fool around. In those cases, he takes a quick sloppy blowjob.

And by sloppy, you mean sloppy.

He loves watching you struggle to swallow him down, eyes shiny with tears and drool dripping down your neck.

His hand grips your hair, guiding the smooth pace as you bob against him. You whine as he slowly speed up, your jaw is already tired and knees are sore. You hold on your his hips to help stay steady as he starts to thrust back into you, cock hitting the back of your throat every so often. You gag and he growls.

He's the one who pulls you off, knowing his own limits.

He's the most controlled out of the three, able to slip you off his cock just at the right moment before walking out and starting the day.

He groans when he peers down at you, "Fuck...I wish I could cum down that pretty throat," You're wiping your mouth, lips still vibrating from the way he fucked into you. "C'mon baby, let's go. Call time's in five." You comb your fingers through you messy hair before he helps you up.

Then you follow him out.

Like Marc and Steven, he also refuses to be prepped by anyone else. But he also takes it a step further (bc of course he does), he takes you to set with him. Like some 'bring-your-girlfriend-to-work' day.

(oh yeah...you're with them now...)

You didn't even know that you were allowed to physically be on set when scenes are being recorded, until Jake insisted, claiming he could only keep it up if you were watching.

Sometimes when he's fucking a girl (or fucking himself) he looks up, eyes scanning the room until he finds you. The cameras don't exist to Jake and this isn't his job. Porn -- or being recording -- is just him doing the company a favor and letting them have a glimpse into his bedroom habits. He doesn't give a fuck.

He meets your gaze and sends you a cocky smirk, hands restraining the body under him as he roughly slams his hips against hers. It never fails to make your breath hitch and skin bloom with heat.

He gives you the same intense look when you're under him, choking on his cock. He's imagining that you're under him now, stretched and ruined for him. Whimpering and crying out for more. As much as you try to ignore him, you can't. It's like driving past a car wreck, you can't look away.

Directors have had to scrap countless recordings for the final production of videos when he'd get really carried away, grunt dirty words in spanish to the girl in the corner of the room (you) that the camera can't even see.

It's not all bad though, the company sometimes uses those behind-the-scene vids of him, basically cuckholding you, for exclusive content. And viewers go feral for it. Probably because it's more genuine than half of the videos out there.

OH MY GOODNESS THIS WAS JUST PERFECTION??? I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT

while we untangle

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader (implied Marc Spector x F!Reader) Wordcount: 2.9K Warnings: Explicit AF. SMUT. DID. Wounds. Oral. CUM eating. Sry. Summary: Things happen to Steven. He ends up with dates he doesn’t remember making. He finds his fridge full and fishes with two fins. There is an attractive woman inches from him and he should just shut up and take it as a sign from God or Gods. Whatever. A/N: wow i wrote this instead of working on wys because i hate myself. title from Rufus Du Sol's No Place. i know vague shiz about moon knight but this is my current headcanon of marc being aware of steven and steven just doing his best (lmao). idk if this is really spoilery.

Steven doesn’t quite recall when he started dating you. He does not remember how it happened. You just appear and he simply goes with it because you’re soft and warm and you call him by his name.

It’s a little like magic. He falls asleep and wakes up and you’re there.

“Hi,” you murmur by the side of his bed. His body is aching. His shoulder is screaming. He feels his bones bunching up against the thin shell of his skin.

“What?” He shakes his head. “Who-?”

Their first conversation (that he remembers) is just fragments of words. It is a series of cut-off questions.

Who? What? Where?

You lean forward so quickly he nearly misses it. A flash of your hair and your eyes glittering like fish scales in the blue dawn light. You touch his jaw and use your other hand to comb his sweat-damp curls back from his brow. He wants to say something because he feels naked in front of you - this stranger in his sweats and one of his t-shirts.

Who are you? Who are you?

Instead, he says: “I’m sorry…I didn’t expect guests. I would have cleaned…”

He would have. He would have made an effort. You smile at him and that’s when he notices the gash at your hairline. The strange bruising along your collarbone.

“Did we…?” he finally asks because why else would a girl be in his apartment - at his bedside. Your lips quirk and you shake your head.

“I’m - do we know each other?”

He really shouldn’t press his luck. Things happen to Steven. He ends up with dates he doesn’t remember making. He finds his fridge full and fishes with two fins. There is an attractive woman inches from him and he should just shut up and take it as a sign from God or Gods. Whatever.

“In a way,” you hum as you stretch your arms above your head. Your joints crack and that cut on your forehead beads with blood. A few hours later, he will notice that it’s gone. He will notice that marks on you never last longer than a day.

“In a way?” he echoes. He is lost in this conversation just as he is lost in most conversations. Everyone seems about five feet ahead of him at all times.

“Yes - in a way, but,” You shoot your hand out and grasp his own tightly. He notices his palm is covered in raven-black grease and you don’t seem to mind. “I suppose we should meet formally.”

You tell him your name and he repeats it - rolls it around over his tongue like a smooth marble. His accent is thick and often too chewy in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he even uses the term “accent” because shouldn’t it just be his voice? His tone. His.

He feels like he’s trying to shove himself through a narrow hole. Nothing fits.

***

He starts waking up with you - coming to with you - in weird places. One time, he’s restocking mugs etched with incorrect hieroglyphics and the next thing he knows he’s coughing up blood on a rain-soaked street. It’s thundering. The clouds spiderweb with lightning. There’s the smell of wet leaves and garbage and a neon Exit sign is blinking above him.

“Marc! Help me out here.” You’re a few feet away punching the hell out of a man in back. There’s a splash of blood. It splatters over your nose and chin. You’re in this tight suit that shimmers grey-blue in the rain. Weird. When your eyes meet his, you suddenly grimace. Your expression flits between seemingly concerned and incredibly irritated.

“Who’s Marc?” He rubs his forehead. His teeth feel loose in his mouth. “Wait - where are we?”

Wait. Wait. Wait. He’s always colliding into a disaster or conflict before he can confirm what it is. Where - when - what -

“Fuck,” you growl and then the man you’re fighting socks you right in the temple. You stumble to your knees. Steven doesn’t really think - he doesn’t have to - he rushes forward in some hopeless attempt at protecting you and - well - everything goes black again.

***

He wakes to the tinkling music of a Carnival. He’s got his hands wrapped around a pole with chipped gold paint. There’s a thousand colors blurring into a mosaic of blues and pinks and purples and reds. Yellow as buttered popcorn. Green and copper as scarab beetles. He can taste sugar on his tongue. Cotton candy. His stomach aches.

He looks down and sees the white mane of a wood worse. It’s uncomfortable between his legs. He blinks. He shakes his head.

“You okay?”

He turns to find you sitting - riding - next to him. You’re straddling a unicorn, which oddly seems fitting since he’s about 67% certain you don’t exist. There’s an unreadable expression on your face. A strange transformation. You go from cheerful to anxious and he feels as if he has interrupted something. You bite your lip and reach for his hand. You thread your fingers together as the carousel picks up speed - as it circles and whirs like a cyclone.

That terrifying, obnoxious jingle of music.

“Hi Steven,” you tell him, which he doesn’t understand. Why are you greeting him when you’ve obviously been with him for a while. Are they on a date? This must be a date. Did he drink? He swears it was 4 PM last he checked, but the sky is black-navy. Violet and midnight.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters as he clings to the pole with one hand as you hold onto the other. He leans his too-hot temple against the wet-cold surface of it. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know what else to say.

***

His eyes flutter open and it’s day again. The midafternoon sun peeks through his heavy blinds. You’re sitting next to him - hunched over like a curled C. One of his heavy mythology books in your lap. You’re reading about Isis and Osiris and he wonders if all his pieces are scattered over the Earth. It would make sense. It would honestly be a relief. An explanation.

There’s a white bandage around your arm with old blood staining half of it. It’s practically brown. He sniffs a metallic tang in the air along with the harsh scent of antiseptic.

He lifts himself up gingerly. More soreness. More agony in his back and the constant headache that thumps at the center of his forehead. He leans into you out of reflex, his chest brushing your shoulder. He touches your arm - drags his finger down the bandage.

“I didn’t do that did I?” He can’t trust himself. He doesn’t know anything. He loses days and nights and you are the only constant in his life. The one unmoved variable.

You twist around to look at him. You’re visibly exhausted. He wonders when you sleep because he’s never seen you do it.

“No,” you assure him. They’re so close that your breath fans over his lower lip. They’re dating and they aren’t. “Dating” is the only word he has for it because he wakes up and you’re in his room or literally in his bed. Sometimes you haul him to a restaurant or coffee shop.

Eat, Steven. You’re very pale.

They’ve never kissed though. They’ve never done anything beyond you looping your arm through his as you take him around London. He hadn’t realized it until now, but every errand they go on has been for his benefit.

You need more shampoo. You need another jacket. You need to get your haircut. Do you want another fish so he has a friend?

You let him talk to you. You let him vomit his words all over you because he has no one else. His mum’s voicemail. His mirror. His mind. One minute, he’s spilling his guts to a living statue and the next he’s spilling his guts to you.

And you respond. You nod and agree or disagree or drop your chin into your hand and listen intently. You laugh when he says something he actually meant to be funny.

“You’re such a weirdo,” you tease in between sips of coffee. It makes his lungs expand to the point he can finally get a full breath in. He is wide awake.

He shifts on the bed. The springs squeak. His sheets are scratchy and he notices there are granules of sand in the folds of linen. Bloody hell and all that.

There’s a wrinkle between your brows as you watch him watch you. You don’t avert your gaze like so many others do when he makes them uncomfortable. He can’t help it. He forgets himself sometimes. You’re different. You meet his stare straight-on.

His voice is low and urgent when he finally asks: “Why do you take care of me?”

You suck your lower lip between your teeth. It turns a color and he has to stop himself from swiping it with his tongue - from digging his thumb into the flesh. “I promised someone I would.”

He should question that. Who?

You know who.

The voices have returned. Swelling and shivering at the back of his head. They distract him. Solid. Tempting.

You know her mouth. You’ve tasted it before just not as you. You’ve had her. You’ve felt her. She’s ours.

He doesn't know what to do. He’s aware of his own awkwardness. He’s aware that he often misses social cues even though a large part of him seems to understand them. He just can’t get there.

“Steven,” you whisper like a secret - like their secret - every fucking letter deliberate and compassionate.

He wants to feel this.

He surges forward and kisses you. His body does it before his brain even catches up. He grips the hinge of your jaw and crushes his mouth to yours. You squeak in surprise before relaxing - before allowing him to cradle your cheeks between his hands and continue.

It feels familiar.

His lips move against your lips. His tongue traces your tongue - teasing and caressing and it subtly changes from sweet and careful to frantic and dirty. Your hand is on his chest - right where his heart thumps. He scrapes his teeth over your lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. He makes a demanding sound and pulls you closer.

He senses that he’s been at this threshold a thousand times previously. He has to move forward. He knows the steps. He needs to take you - plant himself inside you where he’d be safe. He’s been safe.

His hand palms the crown of your skull. He tilts your head to deepen the kiss. You respond gracefully - your own fingers now locked in his t-shirt. They trade kisses in his dusty room with all of his old books and white-noise sound machines and cheap cutlery. You sigh into his mouth - your breasts crushed against his chest. Your heart. His heart. Pound for pound. Sharing a rhythm. How much would they weigh? The bandage on your arm chafes the inside of his bicep.

You shiver and it surprises him - the fact that he’s capable of arousing such a sensation out of you. He wants to go further.

He wedges himself between your legs. He doesn’t know entirely what he’s doing and yet he does. He’s had to have done something like this before. Maybe, at school. His twenties? He should know though no distinctive memories come to mind. No images of teenage lust in a backseat or fumblings in a dark theater.

Still - he appears to be getting it. Gestures before thoughts. It’s like the act itself is already written on his bones - taped somewhere in his mind with instruction.

At some point, they get naked.

You are spread out on his pillows and he uses his hands to open your thighs. He watches your cunt - shiny and pretty in the afternoon light. There are bruises on your hips - along your ribs. He wants to ask, but doesn’t.

You already know, Steven. You saw her get them last night. Fighting. You have some too.

That voice that’s like his voice, but not.

He slips his fingers against the seam of your folds - nudging between them and watching the effect it has on you. He thrusts to the knuckle before twisting his hand so he can press his thumb to the peak of your sex. You’re so wet and hot and each jerk of his fingers makes you tighter. The repetitive clench of your walls as he eases you through it. The push of slick more erotic than anything he’s ever even dreamt of.

“Oh,” you moan softly. “Oh - shit.”

“I-I think - is that alright?” he stammers - his chest tight - his cock so hard that it juts against his stomach.

You nod furiously. You open your arms to him - come come come - be with me. He goes - capturing your mouth - tongue warm as it slides over yours in a desperate, messy tangle. Your hand circles his cock, grasping him tenderly. You stroke him slow as he fucks into your palm. He kisses you. He kisses your throat - your breasts - your cheeks. You lead him - let him in - and then the head of his cock is rubbing right up against your pussy. It’s furiously hot - making slick sounds as it slips through the seam of swollen flesh.

You stare up at him, lips twitching and kiss-bruised. He keeps his eyes fastened to your face as he sinks in too quickly. You stretch around him - nails digging into his shoulders. Your mouth parting. Oh - it’s like this.

You feel like home. You feel like him. He knows this. He knows the wet clutch of your sex around him. Vice-like. Murderous. He rocks down and you glide with him. He draws back until he’s nearly out of you before snapping forward - punching a moan from your lungs. A push and pull. He tilts his hips and you follow - knowing the ebb and flow of his movements like you’ve done this before. You fist a hand into his curls as you nip his jaw. There is the loud liquid suck of your body greedily accepting his cock again and again. It’s so crude that he can’t quite believe it.

“Steven - fuck,” and now he is acting without thought. He is allowing the insides of himself to take over. It’s like a dance that he is watching from a step away, but oh he feels every second of it. He savors the soaked clasp of your cunt. The smell of your sweat and your hair and your lush skin as it slaps against his.

You shove him away and he groans as he rears back on his heels. His pleasure is dismantled. It is interrupted. You rise up on your knees and kiss him hungrily - nearly swallowing his tongue before you turn around. You get on all fours - your grip taut around the bed frame. His gaze traces the lines of your body - the curve of your ass that hitches into his hip bones and fitting snug.

You know what to do. You’ve done it before. Our girl likes it like this.

Ours. Ours. Ours.

That voice unbearably deep and vibrating with power. It’s like heartburn in his chest - bubbling up his throat.

This is for you, Steven. Trust us. Trust us.

He takes himself in hand and guides it back into your spread, dripping cunt. He bottoms out and you respond beautifully - a fragile wisp of a sob as you blossom around the length of him. You bury your forehead into his pillow. You bite the blanket.

Steven has never been able to keep quiet, but now he is out of words. He grunts low, rumbling noises and sometimes: oh god - fuck - so good -

He hopes that it’s enough for you to realize that this is everything he’s ever wanted. This true connection when he’s always felt like he’s living behind glass. He’s grateful.

He reaches around to pluck at your clit - something he wouldn’t have known to do or hadn’t done before and yet he does. It’s imprinted. The second he touches the swollen nub of it, you seize up like you’ve been electrocuted - pleasure ringing through your veins and limbs and he meets it by grinding deeper into you and there are filthy words flying from your lips in heaving, breathless whimpers and Steven blushes bright red because he can’t quite believe he’s done this with you - even as his cock spits inside you - even as he fills you to the brim without wasting a drop. When he eases himself out, there is his own pearly seed sliding down the backs of your thighs. It seeps between your swollen folds, dripping onto his comforter, which he will never wash again -

He touches it with his fingers - mesmerized. The voice in his head is throaty and smug: do it, Steven. I know you want to. She’ll love it.

He listens. He flips you onto your back - mouthing at your throat and tits before he travels downward. He forces your knees apart and buries his face between your legs - lapping and sucking and devouring what he has done to you. You arch up - hips jerking against his face. His nose hooked enough to deliberately scrape against your clit as he licks from your fucked-open pussy.

You cry out, yanking at his curls until it stings and he’s sure he’s missing patches of hair. He won’t let up. He latches and remains there - his hands now under your ass as he lifts the bowl of your pelvis up - like a platter - like an offering to the Gods - overflowing with nectar - a ritual -

He’ll repeat it. Day in and day out. He will perform this.

His skin burns with arousal. A fever. You know it’s him doing what he’s doing as he feasts - as he suckles his own come from your sex. He does not know this and yet he does. Another lifetime perhaps. Another yesterday. All of his memories are wrapped in plastic and yellowed with age. Opaque. Potentially not his. But this is clear. This he is sure to remember.

He knows. He knows. He knows this and there aren’t any lost hours between them. It is one long day and one long night of this tryst where he doesn’t wake up with a broken jaw or bleeding gums. He does not question your presence or why his fish die or why you care enough to keep him alive when no one else seems to notice him. He’s Steven and you call him by that name.

relatively alright : marc spector x reader (& steven grant)

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Smut!!! P in v sex, dirty talk, face slapping, daddy kink, choking, light angst at the end, unedited writing because I couldn’t look at this any longer

A/N: Okay two things: One, I’ve written this only seeing the first episode of the series as it’s the only one out, so there could be some inaccuracies if things change later on. Two, if I’ve misrepresented DID in any possible way, please let me know! I’m not an expert. 

You’ve never met Steven before.

Dating Marc, you know about the others. He’s told you about them, at least as much as he can because obviously there are things he doesn’t know himself. He’s conscious of his alters, it’s like he’s sitting shotgun while they front but they’re never conscious of him when he’s the one in control and he thinks it’s the most frustrating shit in the world.

You could meet Steven without giving him a goddamn heart attack if he knew that you were Marc’s. Marc wouldn’t always feel the need to rush you off after too little time together because he gets worried that someone else will take over and he won’t be able to stop it, that you’ll scare them but that most importantly, they’ll scare you.

You’ve told him that won’t happen — you understand that it’s something he has very limited control over. You know that Steven has no memory of what happens when he’s not fronting and of course anyone would be scared if they were just thrown into reality at any given point, never one hundred percent sure what day it is, never sure of the things you’ve done in between your moments of consciousness.

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