#marc sector x reader

[lockley-spktr]

Moon Knight (2022)

Episode Two: Summon The Suit

With little time to react, Steven is thrust into a war of the gods as a mysterious partner arrives.

Two years ago today.

April 6th, 2022

[bensolosbluesaber]

Secret Identities - Part 2 (Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley x reader)

Summary: The Avengers, your team of superheroes, has been called in to handle an invasion in New York, and you’re bringing your superhero boyfriend, Moon Knight, with you.

Part 2 to Secret Identities.

Action/adventure, Cameo-fest

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader

Warnings and A/N: I did my best to accurately represent DID, I put very little effort into creating a plot and a lot of effort into writing dialogue

--

It was only you, Marc, and the agent - whose name you had never learned and didn’t care to learn - on the quinjet. You held Marc’s hand the entire time. There was no denying the anxious fluttering in your stomach as your two lives continued converging. Each second brought Marc closer to the Avengers, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t scare the shit out of you.

You read through the briefing notes, getting occasional comments from the agent now piloting the quinjet. Rogue artificial intelligence, not Ultron level, but dangerous nonetheless. SWORD suspected some alien involvement, but that wasn’t the concern right now. The immediate issue was an army of robots hidden underground waiting to be activated.

At some point you started to fall asleep against Marc’s shoulder. He gingerly shifted you into a laying position resting your head on his thigh in a familiar comfortable position. His hand settles in your hair and strokes the curves of your face, soothing you into sleep. You hardly sleep for an hour before Marc shakes you awake.

“Something’s happening.”

“We need to drop you in,” the agent called back. “The activation happened earlier than our intelligence suggested. Most of the team is already on the ground. Everyone else is on their way. Don’t forget your comm links.”

You sit up and rifle through your bag, pulling out a familiar costume and stripping off your clothes. Marc blinks at you a few times like he’s surprised at your lack of modesty. He knows you well enough that he really shouldn’t be.

“We can’t all summon our suits,” you tease and toss him an ear piece, even as his eyes begin to glow with white moonlight.

“Tell her she looks amazing!” Steven gushes.

“Keep it in your pants,” Jake snaps back.

You reach for a parachute, but Marc’s white gloved hand stops you.

“I can fly you in,” he offers through the mask. 

“You told me no flying last month!” You protest.

“I didn’t know you were an Avenger last month.”

“Bad call, mate.”

“Oh, so you thought I was fragile before?” You tease, not really mad at the man.

His mask peels away so he can tilt his head and shoot you an amused glare.

“You’re in range!” The agent calls back.

You turn and plant a kiss on Marc’s lips, then punch a button. The door opens slowly with a cold rush of air. You wrap your arms around his strong body, take a deep breath, and together you jump from the plane into free fall. His cape catches like a parachute part way down, guiding you through the clouds lower and lower until the skyline is in view.

Smoke rises from burning buildings, the wreckage of a city that has again become a battle ground.

“Shit,” Marc whispers. “We’re gonna have to stop having technology free dates.”

“Yeah,” you reply, only half paying attention, too busy scanning the ground for your fellow Avengers. It’s pure chaos on the ground, a complete and utter disaster, but then, through the smoke… “There!”

You point Marc in the direction of a bright flash of blue and white, and he angles you toward the ground. The comm link in your ear begins to crackle and finally beeps a connection. You were right.

“-end up here? We’re supposed to be on vacation!” The voice of Bucky Barnes fills your ear at the same moment the bright red, white, and blue wings of Sam Wilson reappear. “Sam, what the fuck is in the sky?”

That would be Marc.

“Good morning, Captain America,” you smile down at the small figures of your friends on the ground.

“Oh thank god,” Sam replies. “Buck and I are a-” he grunts, “A bit outnumbered. We have to hold this street, or it will interfere with the wizards’ spell.”

You’re streaking toward the fight below, finally able to see the action for real. They are more than a bit outnumbered, the two men surrounded by humanoid robots armed to the teeth with every bit of weapons technology available. You drop to the ground at Bucky’s side, Marc landing next to you.

“You’re late,” Bucky calls. “Who’s the mummy?”

Marc shoots him a glare.

“Marc, don’t glare at Bucky Barnes! That’s-”

“I know who Bucky Barnes is Steven,” he answers silently.

Yeah, he knew Bucky Barnes. Well, Steven knew. At some point in their childhood, Steven realized he shared part of a name with Steven Grant Rogers and harbored a small fascination with the former Captain America ever since.

“That’s Moon Knight!” Sam’s wing decapitates a robot as he turns to look Marc up and down. “Read your briefing packets, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and returns to the fight. You draw two long knives, gifts from King T’Challa, and make short work of any robot that approaches. Marc hurls crescent darts, each finding their target. But he doesn’t let Steven front. Not yet at least.

Occasionally, he glances back at you, checking to make sure you’re alright. You are doing the same to him. You have never fought at his side before, but already you know that you would do it again and again.

“The sorcerers - not wizards, Sam - are working some spell in that building,” Bucky gestures vaguely behind him. “They can shut the whole AI down, but we have to keep these things out.”

“Androids!” Sam shouts as he jumps over one and buries his shield in it’s neck. “Androids controlled by aliens who can be stopped by wizards. The big three!”

“The big three?” Marc turns to Captain America.

“Don’t ask!” You and Bucky shout at the same time.

The four of you stand no chance of holding this street. Of course this couldn’t be a time-efficient spell, and the robots just keep coming, an endless supply of mindless soldiers puppeteered by some unknown force. A piece of shrapnel slashes your face, distracting you from the fight for a split second. It’s enough for a blow to land at your midsection, knocking the breath from you.

You pull the gun from your waist, SWORD issue with some advanced technology you don’t care to understand, and shoot. It’s not your preferred weapon, but it is necessary. Marc is by your side in an instant. He grabs you around the waist and wraps you in the white fabric of his cape. 

It’s just the two of you in this little cocoon. The rest of the world is forgotten as his mask falls away for a moment. The expression on his face is pure horror, lips pressed in a tight line, eyes murderous. His gaze is focused on the blood dripping down your cheek.

“I’m fine,” you insist and run your fingers across his nose and brow that is furrowed deeply, trying to soothe away those worry lines.

“I need Jake,” he breathes, a confession he rarely makes. “We need Jake.”

Jake will do anything to protect Marc and Steven and anything to protect you. It’s probably why you had never actually seen Jake suited up for a fight. He is the ‘whatever it takes’ part of the system, and all three of them are still afraid to show you that side.

“Okay,” you grip his upper arms. “It’s okay.”

His eyes flicker for a second, then his suit shifts, darkens to a midnight black that is more like tactical armor than Marc’s mummy wrappings. A bright white crescent moon shines on his chest; it matches the bright white of his cape. He tilts his head with a little smirk, and just like that Jake Lockley has joined the fray.

“Cap? Cap?” Someone is shouting through coms. “We’re coming to you. Do you copy?”

The voice is crackly, so you can’t make out exactly who it is.

You turn back to the fight, watching with bit of admiration and a lot of attraction as Jake expertly dispatches android after android.

“Did he change outfits mid fight?” Bucky punches a robot beside you.

“Sort of.”

You kick a robot across the head, stabbing one of your vibranium knives into it’s chest and immediately lashing out toward another. You glance up, and the world seems to slow around you. The battle is forgotten as you can only stare at Jake. He is fighting desperately, holding his own except...

Except behind him. A metallic arm is raising a heavy blade for a killing blow, metal arching toward his neck. You’re trying to scream his name. You are screaming his name, but it’s too late. You stab the android in front of you, but you will never make it. Jake’s suit will protect him from a lot, heal just about anything, but not decapitation.

Red flashes across your view, a bright flash hurtling through the air. A stick strikes the robot through the forehead, and the metal being collapses in a dead heap. Jake whips his head around as he realizes what almost happened. A figure in dark red drops from a nearby fire escape, grabs the stick from the robots sparking brain, and nods to you. He jumps into the fight at Jake’s side, the two men working together with an impressive synchrony for two strangers.

“How did you see that?” Jake shouts.

“I heard it,” Matt Murdock replies as he dispatches another android.

A few more minutes and the fighting finally stops. Another wave of robots is undoubtedly assembling nearby, but for now the team has a moment to breathe.

Jake’s mask falls away as he studies Daredevil. His eyes linger on the upper half of Matt’s face, noticing how his eyes are completely obscured by the dark red of his mask. You sprint to Jake’s side, wanting to reach for his hand, hold him, kiss him, feel that he is alive, but you restrain yourself. Your relationship is a secret, and for now you want to keep it that way.

“So this is the boyfriend?” Matt asks.

Your relationship is not a secret.

“How-” you start to question how Matt could possibly know that you had a boyfriend, let alone that this was him.

“You started smelling different a few months ago,” he explains. “It’s him. His scent is all over you.”

“Is there a better way to say that then ‘his scent is all over you’? Tone down the creepy… vibes? Vibes? Is that the word?” 

“Give up on the modern slang, Buck,” Sam makes a face and pats his partners’ shoulder mockingly.

You plant a kiss to Jake’s cheek, and he brushes his hand across your fingers to tell you that he is okay. You watch him and Daredevil with interest, hoping Jake might find a friend in the hero who protected his city with the same ferocity and passion as Jake protected Steven, Marc, and you.

“What’s up with the little horns, el diablo?” Jake asks. “What are you the hero of? Hell?”

“Hell’s Kitchen, and it’s Daredevil actually.”

Jake shoots you a glance then shifts his gaze back to Matt. A smile fills his features, a genuine one, and a second later the same expression appears on Matt’s face. You let out a heavy sigh of relief as they slip into easy conversation and you turn back to Sam and Bucky.

“You and Moon Knight, huh?” Sam frowns. “Guess Spidey was right.”

As if summoned by his name, the mysterious masked hero drops from the sky.

“Hey you guys! There’s another group heading our way.”

He starts to turn to Cap, notices Jake and does a double take to stare at the white costumed man, everyone else forgotten. Jake looks at him completely unimpressed.

“Oh my god, you’re Moon Knight!” Spider-Man’s voice has a youthfulness that always surprises you. “I love you! I wanted a cape because of you, but I gave up the idea pretty quick. I mean not in New York right? Handsy people. It would never have lasted. Wow! Mr. Knight, you are so cool.”

“Mr. Knight,” Steven tries out the name “I like that.”

“I hate it,” Marc replies.

“Well that seems like your problem don’t it? I’m keeping it. You can be Moon Knight. I’ll be Mr. Knight.”

“Marc, right?” Spidey asks, and you can practically see the mischief forming in the boys’ mind at his well-meaning mistake.

“I’m Jake.”

“Sorry! Jake-”

Jake’s expression changes, the suit shifting with him.

“Oops, Steven now,” Steven grins.

“O-Okay, Steven,” Spider-Man tries to keep up.

The suit changes as Marc fronts.

“Marc again,” he teases, messing with the young hero.

“Oh,” that catches Spidey off guard. “Nice to meet you, Marc.”

“Actually, Jake now.”

“Leave him alone, you three,” you glower at Jake but have to fight back a laugh.

You thanked any god you could think of that Spider-Man had been there with his goofy remarks and joking attitude to make it easier for Marc, Steven, and Jake to show off this particular skill set.

“Sorry, love.”

That’s Steven.

He adjusts his white suit jacket and grins at Spider-Man, ““You know, the cape is actually really overrated, kid.”

“I’m Spider-Man,” he lowers his voice and puts extra emphasis on the ‘man.’

“More like Spider-Kid,” Jake mutters.

Steven ignores his alter and nods conspiratorially to Spider-Man. He gives him a thumbs up like they just shared a secret.

“Figure out how to really punch criminals yet?” Daredevil snarks, tossing an arm across Spider-Man’s shoulders affectionately.

“I’m not beating the shit out of people,” he protests.

“It’s more efficient.”

“Whatever you say ‘really good lawyer.’”

You observe their interaction with some interest. Had Matt defended whoever was in the Spider-Man suit? No time for that now though, you realize as a mechanical whirring fills the air. You take a defensive stance at Steven’s side, Bucky to your right. Cap and Spidey leap into the air. Matt stands beside Steven.

Sam looks down at his makeshift team then out at the approaching mechanical army. They’re not much, but they’ll do.

“Avengers…”

--

A/N: I left this open for a part 3. Not sure if I’ll write it, but I do think a 3rd part to wrap it all up and let the system meet some other Avengers would be fun! Let me know if you want added to my general Moon Knight tag list!

Tag List: @love-on-the-murder-scene @bookfrog242 @irethepotato @graciexmarvel @simonsbluee @nagemasstuff @whovian378 @cringingmemeries @eerievixen @velyssaraptor

Other Tags: @bored-as-hell-666​ @teenageranchpsychicwagon @yanelimerida @winterwitch107 @tachibubu @eiressmurdock087 @natalieisfreeziing @thehuntresswolf @isnt-itstrange​ @dearlawdimasimp​ @multi-fandoms-of-madness

[blackleatherjacketz]

Battle Born

Marc Spector x Female Reader

Summary: Marc calls you up after nearly a decade of silence and wants to meet up for drinks. You can’t say no.

Warnings: NSFW!, 18+ only, Explicit Smut, Choking, Spitting, Biting, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Hair Pulling, Nipple Play, Fist Fights, Attempted Gaslighting, Medical Lingo, Military Background

Word Count: 3239

Tags: @acutecupidity​ @letsby​ @likedovesinthewnd​

Read more MARVEL stories HERE! Read more Oscar stories HERE!

“Take your shirt off, Spec.” The gray cotton of his t-shirt clung to his chest in an uneven black oval as his skin peaked through a jagged tear just below his collar. He should be bleeding, hunched over, grabbing his chest in pain and struggling to breathe, but his lungs appeared to be working just fine. The splattering of blood that covered his hands and upper body didn’t seem to belong to him, drying and cracking over his unscathed knuckles in the brutal August heat.

“Let me examine you, it’s the least I can do.” You offered again.

“It’s nothing,” he brushed off, beads of sweat dotting at his temples. “I’m fine.”

He’d called you out of nowhere from a number you didn’t recognize, asking to meet up after nearly a decade of radio silence. His voice was shaky, almost desperate as he told you he needed to see your face, someone he trusted to level him out from whatever it was he was going through. If he were any other man you might have brushed him off, gone back to sleep after he woke you from your sleepy marathon of Ancient Aliens, but he wasn’t just any other man. He was someone you’d spent years in the service bonding through blood, sweat and tears with; only to have him disappear on you in the middle of the desert without a trace.

Part of you wanted to hear what he had to say while the other part just selfishly wanted to see him again. His rugged face had been worn by the time you’d spent apart, still remarkably unforgettable as you spotted him from across the bar. He seemed to have gotten even more handsome somehow, his olive skin barely wrinkling around his sable eyes as he smiled at you with his back against the wall. His high and tight haircut had grown into streaks of silver snaking their way into long charcoal curls, slicked back with a coat of summer sweat.

You’d caught him up on the past ten years of your life as you drank together, telling him more about the horror stories you acquired working in the hospital than he would about his life as a private sector mercenary. His eyes glazed over about halfway through his tale, something dark and unspoken weighing heavily on his conscience. It was bothering him more than he let on, but he danced around it the way only Marc Spector could, telling you just enough about a job gone wrong in Egypt before asking the waitress for the tab. He paid in cash before walking you home, before two men jumped out of an alley, mistaking his lack of height for weakness.

They’d grabbed you first, a mistake he made them pay for with fountains of blood and broken bones only after you saw the glint of a knife dive deep into his chest. The street lamp in the corner flickered on and off, the electrical short tricking your brain into thinking you were watching an old moving picture as Spector effortlessly incapacitated your attackers. It had all happened so fast, you barely had time to register the image of Spector ripping the knife out as it clattered onto the pavement at your feet. You’d seen him fight dozens of times before when you served together, but never like this. This time something was different.

“Spec,” you started again softly, folding your arms across your chest in the safety of your own apartment.

“You’re overreacting.” He walked over to the kitchen sink and started washing the blood off his hands and face.

“Overreacting? He fucking stabbed you!” You glared at him with concern. Overreacting? Overreacting?! I’ll show him overreacting… no. No, I won’t. Take a breath, just… breathe. You grabbed a clean hand towel from the drawer and stepped toward him, pointing at the hole in his shirt as proof. “I saw it go in, Spec, I swear I did, I...” At least you think you did, didn’t you? Yes, you were absolutely sure of it.

He took the cloth from your hands as little droplets of water collected on the tips of his curls, dampening his shirt even more as they took their time falling onto his chest. “You wanna see?” He challenged. “Huh? Is that gonna make you feel better? Is that gonna calm you down?” His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline as the speed of his words increased with his frustration.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” you pressed. “You could have a hemothorax right now, a pneumothorax even, but you were so insistent on not going to a hospital after all that back there. I mean what the hell was that?” You paused and took a breath, pointing a finger at him. “And just because I’m a nurse doesn’t mean that I have all these life-saving supplies here at my disposal! So before I can go to sleep tonight I’m gonna need to know that you’re…” You lost your train of thought as soon as he pulled his shirt off over his head, dropping it onto the floor.

“Oh,” you whispered, feeling a knot start to twist in your belly.

He grabbed your hand and placed it where the blade should have cut through his skin, pulling you in close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. “See? You feel that?”

“Mmm hmm.” Your whisper vibrated through your lips as the skin beneath your palm felt perfectly smooth, without scar or blemish. But how could that be? How could he heal so fast, even if the man had only nicked him with his blade? Surely there’d have to be a scrape or scratch somewhere on his torso. What wasn’t he telling you about what happened out there?

“I don’t need a hospital.” His calloused fingers held your hand in place, sending a shiver down your spine as he traced the inside of your palm with his fingertips.

“Okay,” you nodded, swallowing hard. “I can see that now.”

The intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed in with the sweat on his chest as it rose and fell beneath your touch, his heart beating even faster than yours. You felt your breath hitch, your throat begin to dry up as you stared at his body for fear of looking up into those eyes from this insanely intimate angle. Your desire to know what made him heal so fast was suddenly overridden by the desire to know what his mouth tasted like instead. “What do you need?”

Spector lifted your face with his opposite hand, curling his fingers beneath your chin until his mouth pressed against yours. Notes of smoke and honey faintly remained as he parted your lips with his tongue, a mere ghost of the aged liquor he drank earlier as his grip on your hand tightened. You breathed him in, smoothing your hand up and over his shoulder until you cradled the back of his neck, fingers weaving their way into the base of his hairline.

His kiss became intense, an attack on nearly all your senses as his lips and tongue explored every inch of your mouth. Teeth clashing against yours, he hummed as he sucked on your tongue, pulling it taut into his mouth before letting it fall back into place, nipping at your bottom lip. He smiled and grabbed recklessly at your hips to pull you in even closer, creeping his hands up beneath your shirt to find the hook of your bra, unclasping it in one fluid motion.

“Your turn.” He broke the kiss, watching you raise your arms as he pulled both items off you, tossing them on the floor next to his shirt. He was kissing you again before you could even blink, backing your thighs up against your kitchen table as he lifted you onto it with a hurried fervor. His lips left a trail of fire down your neck and jawline as he cupped your breast, sucking little spots into your skin that you knew would bruise later, but didn’t really seem to care.

You pressed your fingers up his scalp as he kissed down your chest, gooseflesh unevenly raising up your skin as he took your nipple between his lips. The tingling sensation of his tongue circling around it was quickly interrupted by the sharp pain of his teeth. The sudden bite drew out a mewling moan from your lips before you tugged on his curls in retaliation, leaning back to give him full access to your chest.

“You like that?” He kissed his question into your breastbone, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he bit into the other one.

“Uh huh,” you sucked in your breath, already missing the taste of his mouth.

“Good,” he muttered, biting down even harder before slowly licking his way down your abdomen. “You know how long I’ve wanted to taste you?” He looked up at you with those eyes, black and languid as a single curl fell down in front of them while he mouthed his way down your pelvis.

“How long?” You gently moved the curl to the side, running both hands through his hair as he slid his fingers beneath your pants and underwear.

“Ever since I met you.” He pulled your clothes off of your hips, the hot summer air barely a relief as he completely disrobed you.

“Oh yeah?” You remembered feeling some kind of way the very second you saw him on your first assignment. His face alone had made you blush, made you turn away in frustration as you tried to do your job in peace, but his voice, his smile, his hands and eyes? Well, those had sent your hand straight down your PT shorts as you tried to keep quiet in your bunk while everyone else tried to sleep overseas. You’d gotten along with everyone in your company just fine, but you always thought that Spector favored you above anyone else. He always laughed at your jokes, saved your favorite snacks for you and kept you company on fire guard, but he never made a move. Not until tonight.

“Yeah,” he confessed, getting onto his knees and pulling you close to the edge of the table. He winked at you and wrapped his hand around the outer part of your thigh before licking a stripe up your already soaking wet length.

Fuck, that felt good. You still couldn’t believe this was finally happening. Three hours ago you had almost forgotten who he was entirely, and now he was here eating dessert at your dining room table. His breath warmed the delicate skin between your thighs, patiently kissing you everywhere except for where it counted until you rolled your hips forward, brushing your clit against his nose. You felt him laugh, tracing his fingers up and down your lips to collect the juices at your entrance before spreading them apart to get a better look at you.

His tongue suddenly returned to your sex, keeping your folds spread wide open as he lapped up the natural heat from your swollen cunt. His fingers eventually eased their way inside of you, his saliva mixing with your arousal to lubricate them as he buried each knuckle even deeper. “Mmm, you taste so fucking good.” He brought his thumb up to your bud, pressing it up as another moan echoed from your lungs against the kitchen walls, drowning out the dull hum of the old air conditioning unit in the window.

“Yeah?” You pulled tighter on his hair, putting his mouth back onto you.

His response was muffled as he took the hint, looking up at you one last time before closing his eyes and getting to work. His mouth was insane, working in tandem with his fingers that pushed into you as he took your clit between his teeth, sucking on it the same way he had your tongue earlier. Oh God, he was too good at this; you could tell that he had done this dozens of times before just to become absolutely perfect at it in time to reunite with you.

You let your own eyes close, focusing on that blissful feeling that he sent to the center of your body with each flick of his tongue and thrust of his hand. You couldn’t help but gasp and hum as he pushed wave after wave of pleasure into your core. Each one was bigger than the last, building on top of each other as they swam up your spine one by one until they finally crashed into your brain, roaring loudly with insurmountable crests of delight. Your body shook as the peak shattered, arching your back toward the sky as he continued to consume you, relentlessly making your thighs twitch and your toes curl.

You nearly ripped the hair out of his head as you rode the aftershock, bright white stars appearing on the inside of your eyelids as your humming turned into even louder moans. You could feel his saliva dripping down your lips and ass, the sound of the droplets hitting the tile floor almost as loud as his fingers slicking in and out of you. He barely slowed down his penetrating rhythm as he suckled your bud into his mouth one last time, pulling it out before letting it spring back into place. He opened his eyes and ran his fingers through the layers of your sensitive skin, making you quiver with overstimulation as he grinned like the cat who ate the canary.

He got up off his knees as you propped yourself onto your elbows, gazing down at him in the haziness of your afterglow. He’d never looked as good as he did right now, your scent and flavor smeared all over his face.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, standing up between your thighs.

“Okay,” you whispered with a nod, letting him grab your chin with his sopping wet fingers.

“Stick out your tongue.” He hovered over you, pressing your cheeks together until you did as you were told. He looked down on you with a lustful gaze, studying your face before spitting directly into your mouth, watching the white string of saliva fall down the back of your throat.

You felt your heart beating in overtime as you kept your tongue out for as long as you could, savoring the taste of your sexual concoction before gratefully swallowing his secretions. You licked his lips before he kissed you, a salty tartness taking over as he made a mess of both your faces.

“Tell me how you want to be fucked.” He rutted his clothed cock between your legs, squeezing your ass with his opposite hand.

Jesus God, what have you done in your life to deserve something this good, this… undeniably delicious? In all of your fantasies about him, he was never this aggressive, this fucking filthy.

“Let’s move to the couch.” You didn’t tell him that you were skeptical this table would support your own weight, let alone the weight of the two of you going at it.

He grinned and kissed you again before letting go of your face, grabbing both of your thighs and hoisting you onto his hips before carrying you down the hall into the living room. Tossing you onto the sofa, he unfastened his belt and jeans, pulling them down to his ankles to reveal just how ready he was before stepping out of his boots.

“Tell me how you want it,” he ordered again, licking his palm before slowly stroking himself with a needy stare.

“I want,” you paused as you watched him slick his fist over his girth, a motion you could watch him perform forever, if you were being honest with yourself. “I want you to fuck me from behind,” you confessed, unsure if you could handle any more stimulation from him, or from that.

“Turn around, baby.” His voice was like wet gravel on a back road, halfway between a whisper and a growl as he climbed onto the sofa, grabbing your legs and tilting them to the side. He slid himself inside you the second you got onto your knees, stretching out your smooth muscle with a pleasure so intense it made your head start to spin. Those stars returned to your eyes as he bottomed out with a stuttering grunt, wrapping an arm around your waist to draw you in even closer with each thrust.

“Oh my God, Marc,” you groaned. You slipped up and called him by his first name as those indulgent stars seemed to shoot up and down your body, barely escaping through pathways of clenched fingers and toes.

He followed suit and muttered yours against your shoulder, biting into it as he wrapped his other hand around your jawline. His pace quickened as he turned your chin to face him, planting breathy little kisses onto your lips and face as he relentlessly snapped his hips into your cheeks.

“Marc, please!” You begged, unable to handle any more stimulation as his balls continually collided with your sweet spot.

“You want me to come inside you?” He slid his hand around your throat, pulling you down onto him with a tightened grip as you barely whispered the word ‘yes’ into his mouth. “What was that?”

“Yes!” You shouted, tears welling up in your eyes as your ecstasy all but consumed you, forcing your teeth to chatter and your arms to give out as streams of saline ran down your face.

He cradled your body, the sweat from his stomach saturating your lower back as he held you against him, spilling his orgasm inside your well spent heat. His fingers clutched at your throat, nearly halting your already stifled breath as he rattled and hummed, almost breaking the skin at the nape of your neck. He sucked your flesh into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue as he howled deep vibrations into your very bones with his wild and untamed groans. His cock twitched against your walls, leaking down your inner thighs as he pulled out and pushed back in, slower each time until both of your moaning had stopped.

“Wow, that was…” you whispered, finally collapsing onto the couch as he reluctantly let you go. “Amazing,” you finished, frowning as he pulled himself out of you, the brief loss of contact making you feel instantly alone before he laid down beside you.

“Yeah.” A genuine smile crossed his lips as he kissed you again, wiping the tears off your face with the back of his thumb. “We should have done that a long time ago.”

“Well, this way we don’t have an audience of the whole battalion.” You kissed his palm as he held your face, fingering the golden star pendant that dangled from his neck. You’d always imagined what his dog tags would say if you got close enough to look:

SPECTOR, MARC D. O NEGATIVE. JEWISH.

But this was better, more meaningful, him coming to you out of desire instead of leaning on you in a time of stress and confusion just because you were the closest one there. He’d remembered you after all these years and sought you out, looking you up to rekindle what you both had been holding a pretty strong flame to.

“Yeah, I guess not.” He looked up and over at the kitchen, playfully biting his lower lip. “You got any popcorn?”

[nezuscribe]

𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐝

---

pairing: marc spector x reader

genre: angst, blurb, marc sector has me in a chokehold rn 😔

summary: he's the folly of a god, a shell of a man, and no longer who he was when you first met him, a man who used to buy you flowers is now a man covered in blood and you can no longer handle it

word count: 1k

takes place before the show

mcu masterlist

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the bazaar was crowded, bodies pushing up against one another as the smell of saffron and turmeric filled the scene, vendors selling their own food adding the appealing aroma.

"care for some kebab?" the question was simple had the voice behind it not have sounded so tense, so full of fright that to the unknown ear it would have been almost comedic.

you turned your head away, jutting your chin out as you stalked through the sellers, blocking out every noise, every shout and yell as you clenched your fists tightly.

"i can pay," he offered and you almost scoffed, it's not as though he ever let you pay anyways, "free of charge," gods, he was truly awful at joking.

he glanced to his side, biting hard on the inside of his cheek as he noticed you looking even angrier than you usually were, your brows pulled together as you looked straight ahead, refusing to look him in the eye.

he would spill everything if he could, right here, right now. but under the appeasing eyes of so many, he opted to wait, to save it when it was just the two of you and nobody else.

"darlin'," he tried, this time quieter, filled with more desperation, "it's not as bad as it loo-" he heard a snort coming from your end, your jaw ticking as you rolled your eyes at his oblivious words.

"really it's not," he continued, his fingers trying to find yours but you kept pulling them away when he got too close.

your pace quickened, but his long strides made up for it, and he seemingly didn't have to struggle very much to catch up to you, his hand finding your elbow as you paused, glad that you were out of the busy marketplace.

with a deep breath, you looked around, keeping your expression steady as it reflected his rather frantic one.

"marc," you seethed through your teeth, looking away when he took a step forward, not trusting your tuition as you knew you'd just fall into his embrace, "not here."

"yes, here," he argued back, eyes trying to find yours as his hand slipped down to yours, encasing them in his larger, rougher ones. he had callouses on his palms, but you'd always press your lips to them, and say you loved them.

"y/n," he tried once again, slowly, the air filled with a breeze that only autumn held in egypt, something you used to enjoy with him. you glanced up at the starry sky, lips pursing as you thought.

"i saw blood on your hands again," you scoff to yourself as you shake your head at the haunting thought. you could vividly remember finding him in a corner, skin stained red as he widely breathed in and out.

"is that what he wants you to do now?" you pointed up at the sky, "khonshu?" you knew of his past job, heard of what he did. but you had never seen him in action. now, however, you could see the violence in his posture, how he was no longer the same person you met so long ago.

marc let go of your hands, running one through his hair as he looked back at the bazaar and then to you, eyes piercing as he debated an answer.

"marc, y-you're losing yourself!" you shouted when he couldn't think of a response, "look at where we are!" his blood-stained clothing, your crumpled night clothing from running out of your shared bedroom when you saw that he was gone.

"y/n," his hands reached for your face but you pushed them away in disgust. you missed the way his eyes flashed with hurt, how he looked at his own skin as if to see if he had burned you in some way.

"i-i didn't sign up for this marc. you barely come home, the only time i see you is before you go to sleep, covered in blood. i mean, it's like you're a totally different person now," you took a deep breath in, shaking your head as you admitted; "t-this isn't a life i can live in anymore. i just can't, marc," your face broke, and for just a second, you mirrored him. there was pain, longing, and ache.

"darlin', please, give me a chance," he moved after you, realizing you were walking back to the apartment, and sighed deeply through his nose, looking up almost as if he were pleading for help.

"you know i love you, god, i'm so fuckin' sorry for hurtin' ya' but you gotta believe me..." he trailed off, pressing little kissing to your knuckles, lips wet with hidden tears as he shook.

"this whole thing is new to me, i have to get used to it. but darlin', you know i can't forget about you. you're my fuckin life, ya' know that?" he pressed more and more kisses to your arms, traveling upwards as he tried to nudge your jaw with his nose but your eyes wrung shut, your face moving to the other side as you avoided his lips.

"you're so good to me," his voice cracked as his tears wet your skin, "ya' know that? you're so fuckin' amazin' and beautiful, y/n, you're eveyr-"

"no, marc," you wrenched your hand out of his once again, your eyes glossy in the light of the moon, shining over as your lips trembled, your head shaking feverishly as you took a stumbled step back, "no more. please."

he took a step back instantly, hands up in the air almost as a surrender,

"okay, okay, i get it," he quickly moved away, trying to give you space, "no more. how about we go home and i make you somethin', yeah? that pistachio thing you like so much, hm?" he tried for a smile but you shook your head, quick to wipe your tears as you repeated it again.

"no more, marc," you whispered, voice hoarse, and it cracked for a second as his face scrunched up in his oblivious confusion, "no more. please."

and no more, please, translated to you pulling away from his hold, leaving him alone in the eyes of khonshu as he stared aimlessly at your receding figure.

sure he's died before, but nothing felt as painful as watching you walk away with a piece of his heart.

[lockley-spktr]

So, I found this book at a store recently and decided to look through it to see what was in there about Moon Knight, and the show got a few pages.

I was surprised and happy to see that Jake got a couple of mentions, so I wanted to share those with anyone else who’s interested. As a Jake Lockley girlie, I’ve been living off crumbs, and I'm grateful for more.

Oh, and the events of Moon Knight take place in 2025 in the MCU. Which I didn't know, so if anyone else was clueless, now you know.

“Even Moon Knight loses track of who is fighting under the mantle.”

Spring 2025 | Jake Lockley Emerges

“Marc Spector’s Moon Knight clashes with Arthur Harrow on the streets of Cairo, but blacks out as Harrow gains the upper hand. He awakens to find Harrow subdued and the street filled with carnage. A third alter, known as Jake Lockley, has been lurking within him, occasionally performing Khonshu’s will when neither Spector nor Steven Grant would even consider it. This personality shrewdly lies dormant, keeping the others in the dark about his very existence.”

“Khonshu and Jake Lockley ambush Arthur Harrow.”

Spring 2025 | Harrow’s Fate

“A debilitated Arthur Harrow recuperated in a psychiatric hospital, this one in the real world, until one day he is broken free by Khonshu—or rather, Khonshu’s enduring servant, Jake Lockley. Harrow is surprised to see the face of Marc Spector/Steven Grant staring back at him from the driver’s seat of the getaway car, but Khonshhe assures him that those two have no idea how truly fractured their mind is. Lockley is all too ready to do what they could not, and a gunshot rings out while Khonshu watches comfortably from the back seat.”