kingtwhiddleston

[kingtwhiddleston]

THUNDERBOLTS* (2025) | SUPER BOWL LIX TRAILER

[kingtwhiddleston]

Feliz Cumpleaños Mi Cielo

Keep growing, keep learning, keep loving - you fulfill my life in more ways than you know… I love you always 💙

[kingtwhiddleston]

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[kingtwhiddleston]

Bibliophile

Pairing: Moon boys (Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley) x GN bookworm reader Word count: 1K Warnings: Just fluff! No description of reader. And not proofread. A/N: This was written in my notes app because of insomnia 🙃And I know I use the same gifs, I'm sorry. I hope you all enjoy this! Comments and reblogs appreciated! 🫶 Dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

Steven Grant

Steven’s a gorgeous nerd with a great love of reading so to him, having a partner who is also a bookworm is a complete and total dream to him. He couldn’t imagine anything better or more romantic. 

His favourite outings are when you go on bookstore and library dates. If you ever stop by either without him and tell him when you come home, he’ll pout and act offended until you plan a bookstore or library date for the next day. You’ll both happily spend hours going through the different aisles and sections with no complaints. You both come up with a mental list of your favourite indie bookstores to support but also love scouring the spines at the secondhand bookstores for hidden gems. It’ll become a monthly tradition to go to one of the secondhand bookstores and choose a random, dusty title for the other as a surprise. 

Steven will form an exclusive book club that’s just for the two of you so you can read and fall in love with a book together at the same time. As the founding member of this book club he will abuse that privilege and often assign a book on ancient Egypt but you don’t mind at all, it’s always genuinely interesting choices and it makes him so happy and that’s more than enough of a good reason to go along with it. 

For your birthday and/or any holidays you celebrate Steven will always put a lot of thought into finding the perfect book to gift you and take it seriously. He’ll also leave the sweetest and most heart melting inscriptions in each of the books and blush bashfully as he watches you read them.   

A lot of evenings with Steven are spent cuddling and reading. They’re always cosy and you’ll often sip tea and have some sweet treats while reading, even though his presence and cuddles are often distracting. While reading together sometimes you’ll both stop to read out an interesting fact or to tell the other about something out of pocket a character did. You wouldn’t trade those nights for anything.

Marc Spector

He’ll go to the library and bookstores with you and follow you around like a quiet, lost puppy. He nods along to everything you say and will then follow you as he carries an ever growing stack of books in his arms that you can’t stop adding to. The first time he had the honour of carrying books for you he was visibly shocked at how tall the pile was and how quickly it had grown, thinking it was impossible to read so many. But Marc quickly learnt that choosing books and buying them was just as much of a serious hobby as reading them. All he asks is that you just organise them at home less chaotically than Steven’s stacks. Once the books have been brought or checked out at the local library he’ll carry the heavy bag back home without complaining or even needing to be asked to do so. 

If you’re in a book club, Marc would join just as an excuse to spend more time with you. Even if it’s a very chill book club he’ll take it more seriously than everyone else. He’ll always make sure he’s read the book well before the next book club meeting and he’ll mentally prepare talking points so he’s prepared. The poor man will have a bit of anxiety over showing up and not seeming prepared but he always ends up having done more homework than everyone else combined. 

When he goes away, he’ll always try to find an old but interesting looking title or a special edition of a book he knows you love before returning. Marc won’t make a scene out of gifting it to you but will just leave it out somewhere at home where he knows you’ll find it when he’s not around, when you thank him for it later he’ll go all quiet and blush.  

Marc’s happy to just sit with you as you read, he finds it comforting to be cuddled against you and to watch you read. He’ll keep an eye out for any quirks you might subconsciously have while reading, whether you’re someone who mouths the words as they read or have your tongue poking out or a brow furrower. He’ll watch and find it endearing and secretly fall in love with you all over again.

Jake Lockley

Jake will read but he’s not as much of a bookworm as you. But he’ll still give you his full attention and interest as if he is the biggest bibliophile in the world and that every book you read is the most interesting book to ever go to print. 

Jake will listen to you live react while reading a book, if it’s nonfiction he listens intently to try and memorise every fact or anecdote you tell him as if it’s extremely important and he’ll need to remember it. If it’s a fictional read, he’s hooked in as if you’re sharing juicy gossip. He nods while listening and reacts at all the right moments because he’s genuinely invested. Will make“And then what, amor?” His catchphrase while you tell him. 

You’ll have book debriefs with him after each book and he’s totally invested and listens to you talk about plot points, characters, and quotes that stood out to you. He’s genuinely interested in you, your thoughts and interests and will talk about it with you for as long as you want, you’re never rushed or met with disinterest from him. He never makes you feel like you’re being annoying. 

He’ll start to listen to audiobooks while driving so that he can feel like he’s reading along with you and can better appreciate the stories you love so much and so that he feels confident in contributing more to the discussions and can share his own thoughts with you during your book debriefs. There has been a couple of occasions where he has pulled over with no warning when he has a passenger, just so that he can text you about something wild a character did or a shocking plot twist.

Tagging with love: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @onyour-right @monowritestoomuch

[kingtwhiddleston]

Oscar Isaac attends the Premiere of Marvel Studios "Moon Knight" at El Capitan Theatre in Los Angeles.

🗓️ March 22,2022

📸 Axelle/Bauer-Griffin/FilmMagic

[kingtwhiddleston]

A heartbeat away :

Marc Spector x reader

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The apartment was quiet, except for the soft hum of a movie playing in the background. The dim light from the screen flickered across the room, casting shadows on the walls. Marc Spector leaned against the armrest of the couch, his legs stretched out comfortably. He wore his usual no-nonsense expression, but the way his arm rested protectively over Y/N’s shoulder told a different story—one of ease, of intimacy.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of him, absently scrolling through her phone while pretending to pay attention to the action flick.

“Are you even watching this?” Marc asked, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence.

Y/N smirked, not looking up. “Of course, I am. The guy just… uh… punched the other guy. Lots of punching.”

Marc huffed a laugh. “That’s the trailer you’re describing.”

“Details, details,” she said, finally putting her phone down and twisting around to face him. “What is it with you and watching movies about people fighting all the time? Is it… research?”

Marc shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t need research. I’m already better than those guys.”

“Confident much?” she teased, rolling her eyes.

“Always.”

She reached up to poke his chest, but Marc caught her wrist mid-air, his grip firm but gentle. “Careful,” he said, his voice dropping to a playful warning. “You keep that up, and you’ll lose this round.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re competing now?”

“You started it.”

“Did I?” she asked innocently, leaning in closer.

Marc narrowed his eyes at her, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was trying not to laugh. “You know what? Sit up here,” he said, patting the space between his legs on the couch.

Y/N hesitated. “Why?”

Marc tilted his head. “Because I said so.”

“Wow, authoritative much?”

“Y/N,” he said, his tone softening. “Just… come here.”

Her teasing expression faltered, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. She climbed onto the couch and settled between his legs, her back pressing against his chest. His arms wrapped around her waist instinctively, holding her close.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The movie continued to play in the background, but Y/N wasn’t paying attention anymore. She could feel the steady rise and fall of Marc’s chest against her back, the warmth of his hands resting on her stomach, the faint scent of his cologne—woodsy and sharp, yet oddly comforting.

“You smell nice,” she said after a while.

“Thanks?” Marc replied, his tone uncertain. “I guess?”

“It’s a compliment, Marc.”

“I know that. I just… I don’t get them often.”

Y/N twisted slightly to look up at him. “Well, you should. You’re…” She trailed off, her cheeks flushing.

“I’m what?” he pressed, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You’re—never mind,” she mumbled, turning back around.

Marc chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “You’re terrible at this.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, though her lips twitched into a smile.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth between them growing. Marc’s fingers began to trace idle patterns on her waist, and Y/N could feel her heart beating faster.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t say it enough, but… I like this. Us.”

Y/N tilted her head back to look at him again. His expression was softer now, the usual hard edges replaced with something gentler.

“I like this too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Marc leaned down, his lips brushing against her temple. The gesture was simple, yet it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, half-dazed.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, his lips quirking into a smirk.

Y/N turned fully now, facing him. Her hands rested on his chest as she studied his face—the faint scars, the tired eyes, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re such a sap,” she said, though her voice lacked any real bite.

Marc raised an eyebrow. “Says the one who’s blushing right now.”

“I’m not blushing!”

“Sure, you’re not.”

Before she could retort, Marc leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both soft and urgent. Her hands tightened on his shirt, pulling him closer as his arms locked around her waist.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“You’re still blushing,” Marc teased, his voice low and full of affection.

“Shut up,” Y/N muttered, hiding her face in his neck.

Marc chuckled, his hands sliding up her back in soothing strokes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“And you’re lucky I tolerate you,” she shot back, her voice muffled.

Marc laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. “Yeah, yeah. Now hush. The movie��s getting good.”

Y/N groaned but didn’t move, content to stay in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against hers.

And for once, everything felt perfectly still.

[kingtwhiddleston]

Weird, but definitely not boring :

Jake lockley x reader

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The old taxi hummed down the dimly lit street, its interior smelling faintly of gasoline and worn leather. Jake Lockley kept his eyes forward, hands gripping the steering wheel as he navigated through the chaotic traffic of New York. His gaze was as sharp as ever, glancing occasionally at his rearview mirror—never for traffic, always for people who might be following him.

Jake was a man who thrived on silence, on control. He liked his world simple, brutal, and efficient. But that was about to change the moment you climbed into the back of his cab.

It was supposed to be a routine ride—another random customer flagging him down for a quick trip. But from the moment you settled into the backseat, it was clear you weren’t like his usual passengers.

"Hi," you said brightly, your voice cutting through the silence like a bullet through glass. "Did you know that pigeons can recognize themselves in the mirror? That makes them one of the only animals with self-awareness."

Jake's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection. You had this wild look in your eyes, like your brain was running a marathon while the rest of the world was still at the starting line.

"Uh-huh," he grunted, hoping that a non-committal sound would be enough to keep the conversation at bay.

It wasn’t.

"Oh! And did you know," you continued, leaning forward with the enthusiasm of someone about to share the secret of the universe, "that there’s a fungus that can control the minds of ants? It’s called Ophiocordyceps. It makes the ants climb up to high places and then… poof!" You mimicked an explosion with your hands. "Fungus city."

Jake clenched his jaw. This wasn’t the kind of conversation he was expecting. He’d driven mob bosses, scared tourists, and drunks, but a full-on monologue about pigeons and fungus was a first.

"Right," he muttered, hoping you’d get the hint and settle back in your seat.

But of course, you didn’t.

"Do you think humans could be controlled like that?" you asked suddenly, your voice dropping as if you were about to uncover some deep conspiracy. "Like, what if we’re all just ants, climbing up to the top of our personal skyscrapers, waiting to go... poof?"

Jake sighed, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Not unless you’ve got some serious issues."

"Me?" you laughed, settling back into the seat. "Oh, I’ve got issues, alright. But not the kind that come from mind-controlling fungus. Mostly just bad decisions."

Now that, Jake could relate to.

He glanced at you again through the rearview mirror, taking in your appearance for the first time. There was something off about you—not in a bad way, just… off. You were dressed like you couldn’t decide between going to a rave or a library. A beanie pulled low over your hair, a wild assortment of bracelets on your wrists, and an oversized hoodie with some obscure band logo on it.

You were a weirdo. And Jake Lockley was starting to realize that weird wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

"So, what are you doing tonight?" you asked suddenly, leaning forward again with a grin that made you look like you were about to cause some kind of trouble.

Jake frowned, taken off guard by the question. "Working."

"Working, huh? What, no secret double life as a vigilante or something?" you teased, completely unaware of how close to the truth you were.

Jake’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through. "Something like that."

You looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowing like you were trying to figure him out. Most people would back off when they realized Jake wasn’t interested in talking. But not you. You leaned in closer, uncomfortably close, your chin practically resting on the back of the passenger seat.

"So, you’re a man of mystery," you said with a dramatic flair, your voice dropping as if you were narrating some noir detective story. "A shadow in the night. The man no one knows, but everyone needs."

Jake couldn’t help it—he snorted. It was brief, but it was there. A crack in the wall he’d built around himself.

You grinned triumphantly. "Ha! I knew you had a sense of humor. So, what’s your deal, anyway? I’ve seen you driving around this neighborhood a few times. You some kind of secret spy, or is this just the universe throwing us together again because I made a wish on a shooting star when I was ten?"

"Lady," Jake said, his voice gruff but no longer as cold, "I’m just a guy trying to make a living."

"Sure you are," you replied with a wink. "But you can’t fool me. I’ve seen too many superhero movies to not recognize a tortured soul when I see one."

Jake sighed, shaking his head as he pulled up to a red light. "You’ve watched too many movies."

"Maybe," you agreed, settling back into your seat. "But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong."

Silence fell between you for the first time since you got in the cab. Jake felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. Maybe you’d finally run out of things to say.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked suddenly.

So much for silence.

Jake glanced at you in the mirror again. "Depends."

"Do you ever get lonely?" Your voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

Jake froze. Of all the things you could have asked, that wasn’t one he was prepared for. He wasn’t used to people asking him personal questions, and he definitely wasn’t used to people like you asking them.

"What kind of question is that?" he muttered, turning his eyes back to the road.

"I dunno," you said, your tone light again. "Just seems like the kind of thing someone like you would feel. You know, all broody and mysterious. You’ve got that whole 'lone wolf' vibe going on."

Jake didn’t respond. Because what could he say? That you were right? That there were nights where the silence of his apartment was too much to bear, where the weight of his own thoughts felt like it might crush him? No, he wasn’t about to share that with you. Not with anyone.

But you just shrugged, not pushing for an answer. "It’s cool. I get it. I’ve been there, too."

You fell quiet after that, and Jake found himself weirdly missing the sound of your rambling. Maybe because it kept him from having to think about things he didn’t want to think about.

After a few minutes, Jake pulled up to your destination, the familiar brick facade of your apartment building coming into view.

"Thanks for the ride," you said with a grin, pushing open the door. "And hey, if you ever need someone to talk to about pigeons or fungus, I’m your girl."

Jake rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression as he watched you go. You were weird. No denying that. But maybe, just maybe, weird wasn’t so bad.

A few days later, Jake found himself parked in front of your building again, his fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. He didn’t know why he was there. Maybe it was the fact that your incessant rambling had managed to get under his skin. Maybe it was because you were right—loneliness had been his constant companion for too long.

Or maybe, just maybe, he missed you.

He shook his head, scoffing at himself. What the hell was he doing?

Just as he was about to pull away, there you were, stepping out of the building with that same bounce in your step, that same wild grin on your face.

You saw him immediately, your eyes lighting up like it was the best thing that had happened to you all week.

"Well, well, well," you teased, leaning against his cab door. "Couldn’t stay away, could you?"

Jake just stared at you for a moment, before letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Get in."

Your grin widened, and without another word, you slid into the passenger seat.

As Jake pulled the cab away from the curb, you turned to him with a sly smile. "You know, I’ve got this great theory about aliens—"

Jake groaned, but this time, there was a hint of a smile on his face. Yeah, you were weird. But maybe that was exactly what he needed.

At the end of the night, after hours of listening to your wild theories and bizarre trivia, Jake found himself standing outside your door.

"See you tomorrow?" you asked, your tone hopeful but not pushy.

Jake looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. You were strange, no doubt about it. But you were real. And in his world, that was rare.

He smirked. "We’ll see."

As you closed the door, Jake muttered to himself, "God help me."

And with that, he turned and walked away, knowing full well he’d be back.

[kingtwhiddleston]

[kingtwhiddleston]

[kingtwhiddleston]

Oscar Isaac

[kingtwhiddleston]

[kingtwhiddleston]

Cariño [Part 7]

Jake Lockley x f!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Series Masterlist

Summary: The story comes to an end.

A/N: I know, it's been centuries, chapter 6 was posted in June 2023 (the shame), but here is the ending. Finally. Honestly, I'm not very happy with this story as a whole, but now it's done.

Warnings: kissing, p in v sex, cream pie, oral (both receiving), reader can't speak Spanish, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 3239

You had gone to Jake’s room early the next morning and knocked. No answer. 

You’d tried calling his phone, the one that worked yesterday. His number was out of service.

After speaking to the front desk, you found out he had checked out the night before, barely two hours after you had last seen him. 

A little after 8am you received the rest of the money into your bank account, payment for the job. 

It was fine. Really. 

He is an adult. He could do what he wanted. He didn’t owe you anything. 

But it hurt. A lot. 

You pushed the feelings down deep until you could almost walk on them. There was no need to dwell on this, dwell on him. But your thoughts kept migrating back, like a compass needle swinging north no matter how hard you shook it. 

You got ready and boarded your flight, not home, but to another job. Procuring and authenticating a Ruben, the honest, legal work you had pushed back a little so that you could get Jake his ankh. 

It was simple enough, practically a done deal and you were home and paid within two days. 

You heard through one of your contacts that the day after his party Edward Malay’s mansion had caught fire. He had seemingly died in the blaze. 

All you could think of was the look he had given you when Jack’s hand was on your waist. 

You let the rest of the following week slide by without any work, your heart just wasn’t in it. But by the Wednesday Detective Eric Peterson, the officer who worked for the police art and antiques unit, had called you asking for your help and promising you weren’t going to get hit in the face again this time. 

You took the job and got on with your life. There wasn’t much else to do. 

.

It was evening on a Friday night, and after trying to stop yourself from nodding off in front of the television you finally admitted defeat. Switched it off and got up to go to bed. 

There was a knock at the door. Ordinary and repetitive. 

You frowned. Waited a moment before moving closer to the door, keeping your footsteps light. 

Ever so carefully you checked the peephole and saw…

Jake. 

It was like a pin had been pushed through your chest, a sharp and small and perfect pain. 

Jake.

He hadn’t knocked like he usually did, forgone that familiar, distinctive sound.

You swallowed and opened the door. There was a split second when his gaze fell on you, the tiniest moment where he seemed to disappear and be replaced by someone else.

“Jak-”

 He surged forward before you had even fully opened the door, his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips meeting yours. 

The force of his actions made you step back as he stepped forward, moving with you so that the kiss remained unbroken. 

You froze, surprised and questioning whether you had actually fallen asleep on the settee and this was all about to become some half remembered dream. 

He pulled back, crestfallen, mistaking your shock for rejection. 

“I’m-”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence. 

You moved forward, grabbing hold of his jacket and pulling his mouth back to yours.

He let out the sweetest little moan as he kissed you back, wrapping his arms around you as his tongue slid into your mouth. He nudged the front door shut with his foot before he walked you backwards and further into the room. 

For a moment he pulled back, breathing hard, his hands still on your face. “Cariño,” he stroked his thumbs over your cheeks, seemingly searching your eyes for something and kissing you again deeply when he found it. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and the back of his neck, running your fingers through the hair that wasn’t covered by his cap at the nape. 

Slowly he continued to urge you back until your legs nudged against the armrest of the settee. You let out a small moan as his tongue danced over yours and pushed you back into the sofa, his right hand coming around to press flat on your back and keep your descent slow and controlled. 

You pulled off his hat and pushed his coat from his shoulders, urging it down his arms as he shimmied it the rest of the way down and climbed on top of you. 

He slid his right hand down your side, your outer thigh, before hooking his fingers under the back of your knee and pulling your leg over his hip. He pressed in close, lightly grinding against you for a second until you pressed at his lower back with your calf and pushed him fully down. 

The fiction sparked pleasure along your veins, burning into your skin as you clawed at his shirt trying to pull him impossibly closer. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed to mutter between kisses. “I shouldn’t have just taken off.”

You kiss him back fiercely, “You don’t owe me anything-”

“I do cariño, I do.” He kisses down your jaw, nipping lightly at your skin until you yelp. You can feel his smile as he presses his lips to your skin to ease the burn. 

“Jake,” You pull him back slightly, tugging lightly at his hair so that you can see his face. You’re not sure why you’re doing this, why you need to have this conversation now of all times. But emotion twists in your gut and won’t let you let this slide. 

His eyebrows pinch together slightly as he moves back, his eyes soft and hesitant. Expecting more rejection. 

You can’t help but stroke his cheek, the beginnings of stubble brush along your fingertips. “Jake,” you repeat and he closes his eyes briefly at the softness in your voice. “You don’t owe me anything, you can do-”

“I owe you an explanation.” He stares at you so sincerely it’s like his gaze is piercing into your soul. “I owe you-”

“Ja-”

“I wanted to kiss you again… back at the hotel. I wanted to…” He moves a fraction closer, his right hand sliding down to your waist as he presses his hips more fully against yours and rocking ever so slightly. 

You bite back the little gasp that wants to escape your lips. 

“I wanted to…” he swallows, his line of sight fixated on your lips as his tongue runs along his own, “make love to you.”

Your heart beats so rapidly that it echoes in your neck. 

“But instead I,” he shakes his head, crunching up his face as he internally chastises himself. “I fucked up, I-”

You silence him with your mouth on his, unable to hold yourself back any longer. 

He moans wantonly against your lips, eagerly accepting your tongue when you lick into his mouth. His hands are cool from the outside air, but it’s a balm to your feverish skin as he slides the tip of his fingers under your top and skims along your hips. 

Jake rocks against you feverishly, groaning happily when you wrap your legs around his waist fully. His erection pressed against you, the zipper of his jeans brushing perfectly along your core. The sensation spikes along your nerves and makes you squeeze his arms in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. 

He mouths at your neck, sucking and licking, paying particular attention to every sigh and hitch of your breath. 

“I have… so much,” he swallows, his voice muffled by your skin. Not able to pull himself away for even a second to speak clearly. “I need to tell you,” he pauses, biting his lip. “There are things that you should kno-”

You take his face in your hands and kiss him again, soft and sweet even though his lips are hot and wet. “Later.”

“Cari-”

“I mean this in the nicest way Lockley, but if you don’t sit back,” you move as you speak, unhooking your legs from his waist and urging him into a sitting position on the sofa, “and let me do what I want, then I’m never going to forgive you.” 

He keeps his hands on you as you gently manhandle him. A soft expression all over his face, as if his heart had cracked under the strain of carrying his emotions for far too long. And now the joy in his chest had no choice but to seep into his skin. 

“What do you want to do?” His voice is quiet, reverent almost. And, in that moment you’re sure he would fall on a sword if you uttered the words. 

You shift back, off the sofa and onto your knees between his legs, your hands on either side of his thighs to push them a little wider. 

The heavy bulge of his erection strains against the denim, practically seconds away from popping the neatly stitched seams. His cock twitches under your gaze and Jake lets out a soft groan as you squeeze his thighs, scrapping your nails along his inseam. 

“I want you to…” You slide your palms higher until your eager fingers can reach his belt. You flick open the buckle, pulling the leather free before you undo his trouser button and start to pull down his fly.

“You don't have to.” He whispers. His eyes glued to your face, his hands balled up by his sides and pressing into the sofa, barely resisting the urge to grab the back of your neck and pull you close so he could rut against the heat of your mouth.

“I want to.” You hold his gaze, slowly tugging the zipper down. 

Jake breathes hard, the air catching in his throat as his cock throbs. It's painful how much he aches, straining against the tough, unyielding fabric. 

He gasps when your fingers touch the skin just about his waistband and eagerly raises his hips to help you pull his clothing down to his ankles. His cock bobs free with a dull slap against his stomach and when you finally take him gently in your hand and kiss the very tip, he nearly comes on the spot. 

You press the palm of your free hand firmly against his inner thigh, a gentle reminder to keep him vaguely still and his legs parted. His muscles tense and twitch, flexing under your fingers.

His voice is weak when he mutters your name, soft and strained. You flick your tongue over his head, swirling twice before pulling back a fraction and look up at him. 

The warm artificial light makes his skin glow, the shadows on the sofa perfectly outlining his form, like a work of art you’d been tasked to assess. 

“Please,” his breathing is controlled even as his chest rises and falls. 

You wait until he starts to continue, to finish his thought, it’s only fair really due to the amount of times he’s teased you in the past with trivial things, before you take the tip into your mouth. 

Jake swears under his breath, his eyes screwing up as he fights the urge to buck and you bob your head slowly before you sink deeper. 

“Fuck,” He hisses, his eyes glazed. 

You hum softly as you suck and lick, relaxing your jaw as best you can to take as much of him as possible. His little pants and gasps for air make you lightheaded, your blood singing as he twitches on your tongue. 

You slide your hand from his thigh, up his leg to lightly roll his heavy balls in your palm. 

“Shit, cariño, I…” He moans, his stomach muscles clenching as he flinches forward. Pleasure sparking up his spine and twisting along his nerves. His orgasm so close it’s almost blinding. 

He wants to press close, to let you play him to your own heart's desire and come down your pretty throat with a scream. 

But he won’t. Yet. 

Jake finds the strength to take hold of your shoulders, “Stop, please.”

You do instantly and he sighs, eagerly leaning forward and kissing you fiercely. Licking into your mouth and groaning when you sink your fingers into his hair. 

He gently guides you into his lap as he hurriedly helps you pull off your clothes and the rest of his. 

“So pretty,” he groans as he mouths at your breasts, suckling lightly as he slides his left hand down your side and presses at your core. 

You shiver involuntarily under his touch, swallowing down a moan as he softly circles your clit with his calloused fingers. You squeeze his shoulders, your hips bucking automatically at the slow drag. 

He hums low in his throat, watching you with dark eyes. Languidly he runs his middle and forefinger over your folds, barely there pressure. “Can I?” He mutters as he rubs at your clit again, hardly even taking the edge of the ache. 

You nod rapidly, “Jake, please, I want you to-” You moan loudly as he presses inside. 

He swears at the wetness that greets him, quickly curling his fingers and stroking as he presses against your bundle of nerves with his thumb. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he moves, keeping time with the rocking of your hips. 

“That’s in cariño,” he whispers, his voice thick, “take everything you want.” 

You almost don’t recognise the whine that leaves your lips as your own. Pleasure twists and pulses in your stomach, claws at your skin as your thighs burn and shake. 

He litters your chest with wet, desperate kisses, his stubble scraping deliciously over your skin. Somehow he manages to swallow a groan as you tense, his cock twitches, smearing salvia and precome against his stomach. 

“Jake,” you gasp, the weight in your stomach dropping as he strokes and pulls the pleasure from your bones. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he whines, his voice nearly as desperate as your own. “Please, please,” his throat is dry as he mindlessly begs, transfixed on the look and feel of you. 

You come all at once, your orgasm piercing through your muscles and running like a current through your nerves. Jake guides you through it, holding you close and muttering sweet words and you shake and shatter in his arms. 

He slowly pulls out of you as you weaken, kissing your temple and stroking your back. You press your face into his neck, breathing hard. Your skin is hot but his touch is soothing. 

“I’m sorry I wouldn’t tell you what cariño means,” he whispers, there’s a weight in his chest, a tightness he needs to shift that’s fracturing. “It-”

“I know what it means,” you smile and pull back so that you can look at his face. “I just kept asking to see when you would tell me.” 

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “You’re cruel to me cariño.” He teases, his eyes bright. “Too cruel.” 

You grin before you kiss him deeply, wet and warm as your tongue slides over his. He shivers delightfully as you just scrape your nails over his scalp, lost in your touch. 

His cock presses hot and heavy between your bodies, desperate for any kind of friction and when you angle your hips away from his slightly Jake just thinks you mean to tease him all the more. 

He certainly doesn’t expect you to raise up on your knees while you kiss him feverishly, nor did he predict how you guide him to your centre and just sink down. 

He moans, his forehead pinched together in ecstasy as you envelop him, so soft and warm and he nearly chokes, stammering out swears and please as you squeeze.

“Cariño,” his hands fly to your hips, tensing and desperate as you finally take all of him. 

You rock slowly, moving in a long figure of eight as your body adjusts to his size. The thickness stretching you wonderfully. 

Jake gasps, his fingers digging in as he holds on for dear life. Bliss buzzes along his skin, settles at the base of his spine with a dizzying speed. “I’m,” he swallows, his breath hitches as you move a fraction faster. His cock pulses as it rubs within you, pleasure building and building and building. “I’m so sorry, I can’t, I’m gonna…”

You don’t let up your movements as you lean forward, ghosting your lips over his. “Please,” you dart out your tongue, running lightly over his bottom lip. “I want you to.”  

Jake groans loudly, gasping for air as he pulls you as close as physically possible. His hips thrust up as he comes hard, the sensation whiting out his vision as he calls out your name in prayer. 

‘Thank yous’ fall his hushed whispers from his mouth as he shakes and recovers, his heart racing in his chest. You can’t help but watch him, transfixed in how his face pinches and glows in pleasure.

You’re smiling at him when he opens his eyes, and you brush some of his loose curls from in front of his face as he gazes at you. 

“You okay?” You giggle, joy rising up in your chest at the love sick look he gives you. 

“More than,” he kisses you softly, his strong arms hugging you close. “More than more than.” 

Without warning he twists, moving you onto your back flat against the sofa while staying deep inside of you. You let out a little yelp of surprise that turns into more laughter. 

“I love that sound,” Jake kisses your nose, grinning. “I think it is my second favourite.”

“Second favourite?” 

He nods, “This is the first.” He moves quickly, pulling his softening cock from your pussy only to quickly dip down, kissing your stomach once before he presses the flat of his tongue in one long, slow lick through your folds. He groans as your combined fluids fill his mouth, and your cry of pleasure sounds in his ears. 

He swirls his tongue over your click one way and then the other before he gently presses two fingers on either side of your entrance and stretches slightly, opening you wider. “Fuck, such a mess here.” He groans, biting his lip at how your muscles flutter under his hold before he gets back to the task at hand. 

“Jake,” you gasp as his warm tongue runs over you again, the tip just dipping inside as he flicks up, trying to gather as much of your combined release as possible before he swallows. 

You wriggle under the onslaught, your back arching off the cushions as he works on you, quickly hurtling you towards another orgasm. 

He groans as you writhe, using his hands to pull your legs over his shoulders without breaking his rhythm. He flicks his tongue, alternating between sucking and licking until you’re sobbing and soaking a wet patch into the sofa. 

His fingers knead your thighs and ass cheeks, coaxing you to buck and grind exactly how your desperate body is begging you to. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. One second you’re moaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of his mouth, the next you're practically paralysed as pleasure washes over your mind, body and soul. 

Jake groans as you come, not letting up on his onslaught until you're panting heavily and limp. As he sits up you can feel his cock against the back of your thigh, hard and ready once more. 

He grins devilishly, “Can I fuck you again cariño?” 

Thank you for reading!

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[kingtwhiddleston]

Oscar Isaac

[kingtwhiddleston]

Look at me. You're not gonna die. Let me save us.

[kingtwhiddleston]

Yarn

Jake Lockley x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals •  Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Jake teaches you how to crochet.

A/N: This is self indulgent as fuck. I'm sorry. (I am angry at crochet atm.)

Warnings: kisses, pet names, reader can't crochet and Jake can, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 497

“So, you take the yarn like this,” Jake’s fingers move slowly as he over exaggerates the motion. You’d seen him crochet plenty of times, the patterns so practised his hands were practically a blur. 

“Like this?” You ask, trying to repeat his smooth movement. Your own fingers are clumsy, seemingly fighting against you as you try your best to will them to comply. 

He smiles as he watches, warmth lighting up his eyes. “That’s really good,” he lightly touches the back of your hand, guiding you for a second. “If you just keep a little more tension here, not too much, just enough to control the working yarn.” 

You nod, following his instructions. But while his own hands look precise and comfortable, controlled in a way you can only dream of, your own are a mess. The wool looks like a spider web someone just walked through. 

You sigh when the hook just won’t move like you want it to. “How are you so good at this?” 

“Practice.” He smiles kindly, placing a light kiss to your shoulder to ease your tension. “You’re doing really well.” 

“I’m doing shit.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “I wish I could show you the first fifty times I tried to crochet. You would feel very superior.” 

“Fifty? You’re telling me I’m gonna have to do this at least fifty times before I even start to get my act together?” You groan, pulling a comical over the top expression to hide the fact that you want to throw the hook and wool across the room. Maybe burn it a little. 

“No, you’re too good for that.” He soothes, sensing your upset even though you’re trying to hide it. “Eight times, max.” 

You grumble a little.

“What was that?” He nudges you softly in the arm. 

“I said, we can’t all be perfect like you Lockley.” 

“Oh, Lockley is it?” He chuckles and kisses your shoulder again. “You really are upset, aren’t you?” 

You scowl and try your hardest not to sound like a toddler. “I am not.” But you fail miserably. 

He laughs again, the sound musical and sweet. “Here,” he shifts, urging you to move a little so that he can sit behind you, his legs outside of yours as his chest presses up against your back. 

Warmth seeps out of him, comforting and safe as he wraps his arms around you and takes hold of your hands in his. Lightly he leans his mouth against the part where your shoulder and neck meet as he focuses intently on the task: the hook and wool.

He guides your hands with his, moving your fingers into the pattern and then gently correcting when he needs to. 

“There cariño, look you’re doing it perfectly now.” Jake smiles against you. “The model student.” 

You huff playfully. “It’s only because I have a good teacher.” 

His smile widens and he gives you a quick hug before going on to explain the next part. 

Thank you for reading!

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[kingtwhiddleston]

Oscar Isaac

[kingtwhiddleston]

Moon Knight (2022)